


If I Knew Then What I Know Now

by whatUseeintheshadows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, De-Aged Dean Winchester, Gen, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Past Torture, Time Travel, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 234
Words: 541,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatUseeintheshadows/pseuds/whatUseeintheshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Given an opportunity to change his family's destiny, Dean Winchester finds himself back in 1983 as his four year old self, yet with his adult memories still intact. But can he alter the events of that tragic night? And if so, will young Dean, his family, and Castiel be ready to survive all the evil that destiny has in store for them? pre-series AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From End to Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning; this is a very long story. I have over a hundred chapters already written and on my computer. I will be updating everyday (mon-fri) until I catch up with my backlog and then it'll drop to probably twice a week (which is about my writing speed). Please don't let the size scare you off though, it's definitely worth the read! 
> 
> This story starts off in early season 8, but things have taken a different path (as you'll see from Dean's thoughts here) and things are going downhill fast. This all takes place before the trials or Men of Letters, so they will not be mentioned.

Chapter One: From End to Beginning

Dean Winchester tried to drag himself across the cold concrete floor to reach his brother’s side. He wasn’t sure he was going to make it, though. Not that it mattered too much. Sam was dead, had been for quite a few minutes already, and Dean was well on his way to joining him. But still, if he had to die like this, he at least wanted to see his brother one last time. Was that really too much to ask? Apparently it was, because there was just no way that Dean was going to make it. His back had been broken when one of the demons had hurled him into the cement post, so he couldn’t move his legs at all. And that was after another demon had mangled his left arm beyond repair. Dean would’ve passed out long ago if it wasn’t for the strange spell that had been set over this demon torture facility that made it impossible for a person to lose consciousness until they were dead. Still, Dean used his right arm to drag himself another few inches closer to Sam. 

The gravely injured hunter had to stop moving when he felt a terrible pain in his chest. He let out a low moan which turned into a coughing fit. When he finally got his breathing back under control, there was a large amount of blood in a puddle by his hand. Dean spit out one last mouthful of the metallic tasting stuff and then tried to crawl forwards, not even caring that he was dragging his damaged body through the blood that he’d just coughed up. He was only a few more meters away. Maybe he could make it there after all. 

But then a pair of nice looking dress shoes appeared in front of him. Dean looked up to see a balding forty-something year old businessman with black eyes looming over him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Disneyland.” Dean gasped out. “’Cause… boy, do I… need a… vacation.”

“Do you really want those to be your final words?”

“Let you know… if I… think… of anything… better.” Dean managed to get the words out even though it was a struggle to talk. Blood ran from his mouth with every syllable and something was rattling in his chest. 

The demon smirked down at him. “I don’t think you have the time to come up with anything else.”

Dean braced himself for whatever was to come. This was it. The end. He was about to join all the others. His mom. His dad. Ellen and Jo. Bobby. Garth. Benny. Sammy. They’d all passed on before him. They’d all left him alone. But now he was going to be with them and soon the entire world would follow. Because they’d failed. He’d failed.

Just then, light seemed to pour from the demon and he crumpled to the ground. Dean blinked and looked at Castiel who was now standing over him.

“’Bout time… you joined… the… party.”

“Dean.”

“Hey… Cas.”

“I’m sorry. For this. For everything.”

“Fix it.” Dean meant for it to come out like an order but his voice cracked, making it sound more like a plea.

“I can’t. At least not how you want me to.”

“What…”

Cas crouched down next to Dean. “I can’t heal you. Nor can I bring Sam back.”

“You… should’ve… been here.”

“It wouldn’t have changed the outcome. Perhaps you would’ve survived today, but you would’ve lost soon enough. We can’t win this.”

“Nice… outlook, Cas. Way… to stay… positive.”

“It’s true, Dean.”

“So what? You… just… gave up?” Dean really didn’t want to waste his last breaths arguing with the angel, but he was pissed that his friend hadn’t been there and he wanted answers.

“No. I found another way. The only way to stop all of this from ending this way is to stop it from beginning.”

“Beginning? I don’t…” Dean’s body was wracked with another bout of coughing. When he got his breath back, the dying hunter tried to ask his question again. “I don’t understand… what that… means. What… beginning?” 

“The moment all of this was put into motion. The night of November 2nd, 1983. The night your mother died and Sam was infected with Azazel’s blood.”

“You said… it couldn’t be… stopped. Destiny… and all… that… crap.”

“I was wrong. There is a way. But you have to agree to some, well let’s just call it some guidelines.”

“What guidelines?” Dean wished that Cas would just get to the point before they had to continue the conversation in the afterlife. He wasn’t going to last much longer. The pain was getting worse and he was weakening rapidly.

“I can take you back but you need to stay there. You need to grow up there. And you must still hunt. Those you and your family have saved must still be saved. Some things you will be able to change while other things must still happen.”

Dean tried to comprehend what Cas was saying but the loss of blood was making it difficult. Besides, the angel seemed to be being a bit cryptic. “Will… my mom… dad… Sammy… will they live?”

“That is up to you and what you do. But yes, you will have the chance to save them from all the events that Azazel set into motion. But you will not get the same chance to start over as they will. You will remain the same.”

“I don’t… understand.”

“You will not be able to escape all that’s happened to you. You will always carry the memories even if you change the events that caused them.” Cas looked sad at that announcement. “You can say no to this arrangement if you wish, and I’ll end your suffering now. You can finally know peace.”

Dean still couldn’t fully comprehend what the angel was trying to tell him but he understood enough to know that things probably weren’t going to turn out well for him if he accepted the terms of this deal. But if his parents and his little brother could be saved, then his fate didn’t really matter all that much. Dean had always put his family first and would continue to do so. 

“I’ll… do it, Cas.”

“Dean…”

“Dude, I said yes.” Dean growled out.

Cas nodded. Then he reached out his hand and gently placed it on the injured man’s head. The pain immediately faded and then so did the rest of the world. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean’s eyes flew open and he let out a gasp. The room he was in was lit by a soft glow and seemed vaguely familiar. He was lying in a comfortable bed under soft blankets. Dean took a quick mental stock of himself and was pleased to discover that he could once again feel and move his legs. It no longer hurt to breathe and the rest of his body was not in extreme agony any more. Dean lifted his left arm up to see if the damage had been healed and that’s when he realized that something was very wrong. 

His arm was no longer broken and shattered, the skin wasn’t torn apart and all his fingers were once more attached. But his arm wasn’t his. It couldn’t be because it was the size of a small child’s arm. Dean pulled up the sleeve of the flannel pajama shirt and pinched the skin. Ouch. Yeah, it was definitely his arm. But what the hell? Frantically, he kicked the covers off of himself and saw that his entire body was now way too tiny to be his own. Dean ran his fingers through hair that was much too long and then down his small face. Oh yeah, something was very wrong.

Dean hopped out of the bed and looked around the room. There was a dresser, a child sized desk and chair, bookshelves, a toy box, and the bed he’d just been in. The floor was cluttered with toys and a partially completed large floor puzzle. Dean stared at the incomplete picture and realized where he was. His childhood bedroom. He looked back down at himself. He was a child in his childhood bedroom. The pieces were now falling into place.

“You coulda mentioned that this was part of the deal, Cas.” Dean mumbled in a voice that was much younger than it should have been. “Just how the hell am I supposed to stop the crap from hitting the fan when I’m freakin’ four years old?!”

He felt fear, anger, anxiety, and about a million other emotions welling up inside of him all at once. Tears burned behind his eyes. Dean swiped them away. Why the hell was he crying? This was far from the worst situation he’d ever been in. Definitely one of the most unusual, but not cry-worthy, that was for sure. Of course he hadn’t been a little kid during the other incidents, so that was probably it. But he did have all of his adult memories, so he shouldn’t be reacting like this. He couldn’t afford it. He had to think and come up with some sort of plan to stop the coming events. Speaking of which…

Dean walked over to the wall closest to his bedroom door to get a look at the calendar. He wanted to know how much time he had to get ready. He was hoping for at least a week or so. More time would be better, since he needed to come up with a plan, get whatever supplies he’d need, and prepare for the confrontation. 

The boy reached up and flipped the light switch. He squinted as a bright light illuminated his bedroom. Dean saw that the cheerful looking teddy bear calendar for the year of 1983 was already turned to the month of November. And according to the stickers he’d used to mark off days passed, it was the second day.

Dean’s eyes widened and he shook his small head in denial. He didn’t have weeks or even days. He had hours at best or possibly just minutes to prevent the tragedy that was about to once again befall his family.


	2. I Need Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the support and kind words!

Chapter Two: I Need Help

Dean fought back the panic that was threatening to overtake him. His heart was trying to beat through his little chest as he looked frantically around the room, praying that there would be something he could use to stop the demon who was about to wreck havoc upon his family. And it looked as though his prayers had been answered. There, underneath the bed that he had just woken up on, was an old, very familiar duffle bag.

Dean got down on his hands and knees and pulled the bag out. Yep, it was definitely his. The duffle he’d carried around for a good part of his life. But that made little sense. The bag certainly didn’t exist back in 1983. But hey, never look a time-traveling gift horse in the mouth, right? 

The boy unzipped the bag and looked through the contents. A smile lit up his face as he pulled out the Colt. 

“Awesome! Cas, wherever you are, I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about you.” He thought over what he’d just stated and shrugged. “Well, most of it anyways.”

Dean looked back into the duffle and pulled out the demon killing knife as well. He laid both weapons out on the floor and went back to unpacking. Next he extracted his father’s journal, which he himself had added to over the years. He placed that next to the weapons and continued his search. Three more guns were taken out along with boxes of salt, iron, and silver ammunition and a bottle of holy water. Looked like Cas had paid attention in Hunting101. At the bottom of the duffle bag was a large sealed manila envelope.

Dean’s small hands pulled out the object and tore the top open. He pulled out a sheet of paper. Written on the piece of copy paper in perfect handwriting was a short note.

_Dean,_   
_I don’t know when I will get to your side as I’ve never done anything like this before, but I felt that these items would help you. Your task will not be easy but I am certain that you will have success since I have never known you to let your family down. I also included some of your personal affects that I thought you might want. I wish you well._   
_-Castiel_

Dean read the letter again and then turned the envelope upside down to see what ‘personal affects’ Cas was talking about. A few photos fell out along with a small object. The boy stared at the object for a moment before picking it up. It was something he’d once held dear but had not seen in a very long time. A keepsake he’d dropped into a motel trash can many years ago. Dean tied a knot in the cord to shorten it up a bit and then put the amulet back around his neck, where it belonged. He had no clue how Cas had gotten his angelic hands on it, but was glad to have the necklace that Sammy had given to him back. And he vowed to never take it off again. 

The young hunter took no more time to go through the stuff. He grabbed the Colt and stood up. Azazel was going to be here at any moment and Dean was going to make sure the yellow-eyed son of a bitch was not going to tear his family apart. That bastard was not going to get anywhere near little Sammy and Mary Winchester was going to live. 

But Dean would need help. A four year old boy would not be able to fire a gun. His arm would most likely get broken from the kickback. And he knew his little body wouldn’t have the strength to plunge the demon killing knife into Azazel even if he could somehow get close enough to use it. 

Dean left his bedroom and walked down the hall. He hesitated when he reached his parents’ room. What the hell was he going to say? He knew from his dad’s account of this night that the eldest Winchester was already downstairs fast asleep in his chair and that Dean’s mom would be in bed. Dean didn’t even consider going to his father. John Winchester knew nothing of the supernatural and could not be counted on tonight. But Mary had been a hunter and had encountered Azazel ten years ago. As much as Dean would love to keep her out of this fight, she would understand the situation and be able to help. At least that was Dean’s hope.

The boy walked into the room and over to his mom’s side of the bed. He stared at her for a moment. He’d seen her a few times in the years since her death but it never failed to make his heart swell. And this time, the feeling was amplified by the knowledge that this was not just a brief visit to a Mary Winchester of the past. If he succeeded, he wouldn’t ever have to lose her again.

Dean reached up and gently shook the sleeping woman.

“Mom… Mom, please wake up. I need help.”

“Dean?” His mom opened her eyes and blinked sleepily at him. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I need you to listen to me, Mom. It’s important.”

Now she seemed to wake instantly. Dean knew that he must be giving off serious ‘something’s wrong’ vibes but he didn’t have time to be subtle or beat around the bush.

“Dean? What is it?”

“Mom, there’s a demon coming. Tonight. And it’s going to go after Sammy.”

“What? Dean, what are you talking about?”

“The yellow-eyed demon, Mom. The one who killed your parents. He’s coming for Sammy tonight. We have to kill him first. Here.” Dean handed the Colt out to his mom, whose eyes grew wide at the sight of her little son holding a gun. She snatched it from his hands.

“How did you get this? How do you know about the demon?”

“It’s a very long story that I don’t have time to tell. Please, Mom. We have to save Sammy before it’s too late. I got a plan.”

Mary sat up in bed, set the Colt down next to her, and pulled open the drawer of her nightstand. Dean stepped forwards to see what she was doing and was hit square in the face with a splash of water. Sputtering, the boy jumped back.

“Dude! Holy water, Mom? Really?”

“What are you? What have you done to my son?”

“Mom, it’s me. I just know some stuff and I’ll tell you how later. We don’t have time for this right now, though. But look into my eyes and tell me that I’m not your son.”

She did as asked and got a confused look on her face.

“No… I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Sammy is in danger! Please, let’s just go to him.” Dean knew that his mom was skeptical and understood that she was wary of being led into a trap, but finally her mother’s instinct won out and she started for the door to go check on her baby. Dean grabbed the Colt and scrambled after her. 

“We’re gonna need this.”

“Guns don’t kill demons.” His mom pulled the weapon from his little hands.

“This one does. It’s the Colt. You know, the one that kills anything.”

“How did you get it, Dean?”

“An angel left it in my bedroom.” 

Mary paused and looked like she’d say something, but then proceeded into Sammy’s nursery. Dean followed and breathed a sigh of relief to find the room empty. Sammy was sleeping undisturbed and there were no flickering lights. It appeared that they had gotten there in time.

“Where is he?”

“Not here yet. Which is good, ‘cause that means we still got time to set up a trap.”

“There’s no ‘we’, Dean. You go back to your room and I’ll come when this is over. Then we’ll talk.”

“No!” Dean cried out. He was picturing his mom confronting the demon and ending up on the ceiling once again. Not gonna happen. He felt his eyes tearing up at the thought of losing her again. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t have any control over his emotions. “He’ll kill you, Mom. You need my help or this won’t end well.”

“No. Either you’re not my Dean, in which case I don’t trust you to be here with me. Or you are my Dean, and I’d never put you in danger.”

“If you confront him by yourself, you will die. And the demon will infect Sammy with his blood, screwing him up for life. Dad will become a hunter to avenge you and me and Sammy will be raised into that life too. I can’t let that happen, Mom. I can’t.” And now tears were falling from his eyes, leaving trails down his childish face. But he didn’t care so long as his mother listened to him.

Mary stared at him for a moment and her heart seemed to melt. No mother could look at their four year old crying and pleading for help and not react. She knelt down and hugged him.

“Dean, I don’t know what’s going on but I’m trusting you here, sweetie. Afterwards, though, we are going to have a long talk.”

“Mom, after this, I’ll sit and talk with you forever.” Dean assured her. And if they both survived this, he knew he’d never tire of hearing her voice. “Okay, here’s the plan…”

…  
...supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sammy’s nursery was quiet except for the tick-tock of a wall clock that threatened to drive Dean insane. He sat alone in the corner of the room watching his baby brother sleep and contemplating the bizarre turn his life had taken. He couldn’t believe he was actually back here, on this night, with an opportunity to change things. Of course, it would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if he wasn’t four freakin’ years old, but he was certain that Cas had his reasons for doing it this way. But that didn’t mean that he liked it. It seemed that his tiny little body came with really big emotions and very little control over them. The whole situation was weird, even for him. And he was going to have a hell of a hard time dealing with his parents after this encounter with Azazel. Dean knew that he was incredibly lucky that his mom had listened to him so far, but also knew that she was confused and a bit suspicious. As a hunter she was following through with this to protect her family and as a mother she couldn’t deny her first born son help when he’d begged for it. But when this was all over, he was going to have to tell her the truth and wouldn’t that be fun?

Just then, the infernal tick-tocking stopped and the yellow, crescent moon shaped light began to flicker. Show time.

Dean got into a crouch, ready for what was to come. Suddenly, a figure appeared right in front of the window. It was man shaped but stayed in the shadows. But even the dark couldn’t hide the sickly yellow eyes as the demon took a step towards Sammy’s crib. And that was as close as Dean was going to allow the son of a bitch to get to his little brother.

“Stay away from my brother, you bastard.” Dean ordered as he rose to his feet and stepped forwards to confront the demon.


	3. Changing Destiny?

Chapter Three: Changing Destiny?

Yellow eyes focused on the small boy, who stood bravely in front of the demon. Well, at least Dean hoped that he appeared brave. Inside he was terrified. He stood absolutely no chance against Azazel and they both knew it. 

“Go back to bed, kid. This is all just a bad dream.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

The demon-possessed man tilted his head, obviously curious about the child’s reaction. Probably not what he expected from a four year old.

“There’s something about you…”

“We’ve met before.” Dean stated. “Think real hard and maybe it’ll come to you.”

Azazel studied him but there was no recognition.

Dean smirked. “I look a bit different but we met ten years ago. You possessed my grandfather. Killed both him and his wife. Then you killed my dad but made a deal with my mom to bring him back. Any of this ringing a bell?”

“I remember. But how do you?”

“I have friends in high places, remember? An angel on my shoulder, I believe you called him.”

“But... no, you haven’t lived through that yet.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at the crap that I’ve lived through.” Dean revealed. “But I’ve also had some good times too. Killing your ass being a major highlight. And now, I’m gonna do it again. Only this time I’ll do it before you screw with my family.”

This produced a creepy smile on the face of the guy that Azazel was wearing. “I don’t know how you are aware of your future, but it doesn’t matter. You are a mere child. You have no hope against me.”

Dean opened his mouth to continue the verbal sparring match when he was suddenly thrown against the wall by an invisible force. The boy found himself pinned against the hard surface with his feet dangling inches from the ground. He couldn’t move. Dean tried to fight the overwhelming terror coursing through him but the best he could do was keep from losing control over his bladder. The damned childish emotions were drowning him as Azazel walked across the room to stand in front of him. On the plus side, the demon was now ignoring Sammy completely. And Dean had to keep it that way.

“Dude, check out the big, bad demon. Picking on a four year old. That’s just pathetic, man.”

“We’ll see which one of us is pathetic in a moment, Deano. I think it’ll be the one whose insides are decorating the floor. And that will be you.”

Dean felt his tiny body slide up the wall and dearly hoped that he wasn’t headed for the ceiling, knowing that that would be the death of him. He let out a sigh of relief when he stopped moving upwards a good two feet from hitting his head. But then his sigh became a cry of agony as a sharp pain flared on his stomach. He looked down to see blood soaking through his pajama top right over his belly. Tears streamed down his face and he prayed that this wasn’t the end.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary Winchester stood outside of her baby boy’s nursery and waited for her older son to say the codeword. She’d wanted to run into the room as soon as she’d heard a man’s voice talking with Dean, but her instincts told her to trust her son’s judgment. Somehow he knew things that he just shouldn’t know and one of those things was how to defeat this threat to the Winchester family.

The threat. It was her fault. She’d given this demon bastard an invitation to stop by her home ten years ago when she’d made the deal to bring John back to life. And she’d lived in dread of the day that he’d show up ever since. Oh, it wasn’t always on her mind. She had plenty of things to occupy her thoughts during the day. Being a stay at home mom for little Dean was hard work. And then, the ten year mark was upon her and she ended up in the hospital giving birth to her second son. She’d searched the entire house when she’d gotten home, but there was no sign of any demonic activity. Ever since then, she’d relaxed and let her guard down. But apparently that had been a mistake. It made no sense though. Why had the demon waited an extra six months to invade her home? What was important about today? 

Then it came to her. Words spoken over ten years ago by another Dean. The hunter had practically begged her not to get out of bed on November second, 1983. But now she had. What did that mean? Was it possible that her son was possessed and had led her into a trap? No. She’d used the holy water on him and it had just annoyed him. Besides, the man in the other room didn’t seem pleased with Mary’s first born, so she doubted that they were working together. 

But the conversation she was listening to was surreal. Dean’s voice was coming to her loud and clear and it was definitely her little boy’s voice but the words that were coming out of his mouth did not sound like him at all. First he talked about the deaths of her parents and John, something that he should know nothing about. Then he mentioned having a friend who was an angel (the second time he’d brought up an angel). But the most disconcerting part was when he started using what Mary referred to as ‘potty language’. Ever since the boy had first started speaking, he’d always been so soft-spoken and polite. He’d never said anything like words coming out of his mouth at the moment. 

Mary jumped when she heard a thud come from the room. She wanted to run in more than ever, but Dean had been adamant about what her fate, and that of her family, would be if she didn’t heed his warnings and follow through with his plan. And even though he was acting nothing like himself, something inside of her insisted that she trust him. 

It was hard not to react when she heard the other voice threaten her son but when she heard his childish voice let out a pained scream, Mary abandoned the idea of waiting for Dean to say ‘Impala’ and rushed into the nursery. 

The woman was horrified to see her son pinned to the wall just below the ceiling, his pajama shirt drenched with blood that was dripping down to puddle onto the floor. He had tears running down his face and looked like he was terrified and in extreme agony. Mary raised the weapon that she’d been given at the man standing in her baby’s room.

“Stop it! Let him go.”

The man turned and the former hunter saw his eyes. His yellow eyes. Dean had told her who it was that would be showing up, but it was still a shock to see him again and Mary felt anger fill her mind. This bastard had killed her parents, had come for her baby and was now harming her eldest son. He was going to die.

“Mary. So good to see you again.” The demon smirked at her.

“Let my son go.”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s boasted twice now about being the one who kills me. That won’t happen if I gut the brat right now.”

“Dean!” Mary heard her husband’s voice calling as the sound of his footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Of course he’d come. There was no way he could’ve missed the boy’s screaming only moments before. But then the door to the nursery slammed shut.

“I think there’s enough people at this party already, don’t you?” The demon commented.

Mary was relieved. John would only have gotten himself killed had he made it into the room. A moment later the door knob rattled but the door stayed closed. Obviously, the slamming door had clued her husband in to where the problem was. When the door didn’t budge, a loud pounding started. 

“What’s going on in there? Dean, are you okay, buddy? Mary, you in there?”

“I’m here, John.” She called back. 

“Yeah, we’re all here, John.” The demon mocked.

“Mary, who’s in there? I’m calling the cops. Whoever you are, don’t you touch my family!”

“No! John, don’t call the police! Just… just stay there.” The last thing that was needed right now was to throw civilians into the mix. Besides, she didn’t want to explain where she’d gotten a gun and why she killed a man. Because this demon was definitely going to die. She just needed him distracted enough to get a shot in without him using his powers to disappear or deflect the bullet. 

“What? You don’t want lover boy to die again?” The demon laughed. “Now, lower that gun and maybe you can live through this. After all, we both know that bullets can’t hurt me.” Despite his words, he was looking at the Colt with apprehension. 

“And we… we all know… that the ones… in that gun can.” Dean spoke up in a weak, pain-filled voice.

The yellow-eyed demon turned to face the boy and that’s when Mary made her move. She aimed the Colt and fired. The bullet left the weapon at high speed and buried itself in the back of the demon possessed man’s head. He made as if to turn around and face her, but then faltered as lightning seemed to flash inside his body. Mary heard John calling to her and she shouted back reassurances that they were okay without once taking her eyes off of the scene playing out in front of her. 

As the demon fell to the floor, so did her son. Dean hit the floor with a thud and Mary ran forward. Sam had woken when the gun went off and was crying but she didn’t have time to console him. While the baby was obviously scared, he was physically alright, which was more than could be said for her first born. 

Mary dropped to her knees in front of the boy and gently rolled him over onto his back. Dean’s eyes were clouded by pain but he managed a weak smile.

“You… did it, Mom. You changed… everything.”

Mary had no clue as to what her son was talking about. But questions would have to wait. His pajama shirt was soaked through with blood and he was beginning to shake. The worried mother pulled up the article of clothing and saw a long, deep cut pumping out a ton of blood. He was going to need to get to the hospital. And Mary was certain that there was no way Dean would live long enough to get there alive.

“Oh God. Oh no. Dean, baby, hold on. I’ll get you help.” Tears streamed down her face as she heard the nursery door open behind her.

“What the hell? Mary what’s… oh! Dean!” 

And then John was besides her as she cradled her four year old son in her arms. She didn’t even recall picking him up but now she was holding him close to her chest.

“Don’t… cry, Mom.” The child’s voice was fading. “It’s… actually better… than the… the way it… it could’ve ended.”

“No. No, sweetie. Don’t talk.” It no longer mattered why Dean had been acting so strange before. All that mattered was that he was dying in her arms. “Just hang on, baby.”

“I’ll call an ambulance.” John offered.

“It’ll be faster if we drive him.” Mary countered, getting ready to stand while still holding her injured son.

“Too late.” Dean mumbled. “Love you…”

Then the boy’s eyes closed.


	4. Aftermath

Chapter Four: Aftermath

John Winchester knelt down next to his wife and reached his hand out to stroke though his son’s hair. His dead son’s hair. Because he was certain that the life had left Dean’s body only moments before. And just how the hell had this happened? 

He’d been woken by his son’s screams and was ashamed to admit that he’d hesitated before getting up and out of his chair. He’d at first assumed that the boy had had a nightmare, and comforting the child after a bad dream was more Mary’s specialty than his own. But something about the boy’s scream didn’t seem right. It reminded him more of the cry of pain he’d heard from his fellow Marines when they were wounded than a child scared of a nightmare. And that thought is what finally got him moving. But too late it seemed. For when he’d gotten upstairs, the door to Sammy’s room was slammed shut and locked and he heard a man’s voice coming from inside. After banging on the door got him nowhere, John was about to call the cops but then Mary had told him not to. He figured that maybe the man inside the room had threatened to kill them if the police arrived, so he obeyed his wife’s request. But that didn’t mean he’d just stand around and hope that things turned out alright. No. He’d find a way into the room and save his family. But a gunshot ended all thoughts of rescue. He screamed to Mary and heard her yelling back that they were okay. And then the door had been unlocked. He wasn’t sure how since his wife hadn’t gone near it, but there was no time to ponder that as he took in the horrific scene in his youngest son’s nursery. A man lay dead on the floor with a gunshot wound to the head. But the father barely glanced at him as his eyes found his first born son. Mary was cradling his tiny body in her arms as blood poured from an awful looking stomach wound. John was by their side in an instant. Dean was saying something about how it could’ve been worse and Mary was hushing him. John offered to call an ambulance but was shot down by his wife who wanted to drive the boy to the hospital. But then Dean had said that it was too late and told them that he loved them. When the boy’s eyes closed, John thought he’d die as well. This just couldn’t be happening.

“Dean, no buddy. C’mon, don’t do this.” And there were tears streaming down his face now. Yep, ex-Marine tough guy John Winchester was sobbing like a baby as he pleaded with his dead son to not be dead. “Please, Dean, come back to us.”

“Oh baby, no.” Mary cried over and over. 

“Step aside. I will help him.”

John’s head whipped around to see a man wearing a tan trench coat standing over him. The man was staring at Dean’s body with an expression of sadness but the mourning father still didn’t trust the intruder. What were his intentions? And how did this man get in here without being heard? Although he supposed that was easy since he and Mary were calling out to their lost child as Sammy wailed away in his crib. 

“Who the hell are you?”

“Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord and I can heal your son.”

“No. No, I don’t know who you are, but you stay away from my boy.”

“John, Dean’s dead.” Mary cut him off. “This man can’t do him any harm. And if he is an angel…”

“Mary, Dean’s dead! There obviously are no angels looking out for him!” John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But he guessed that Mary was grasping at any small amount of hope that was being offered to her, no matter how ridiculous it seemed and that made him hate the man in the trench coat. Because Mary’s heart would break all over again when Dean remained dead.

“I apologize that I couldn’t come sooner. I’ll explain everything later but for now I need to heal Dean.”

“Okay.” Mary agreed.

“No!” John insisted, but Castiel (if that was trench coat guy’s real name) pushed past him and laid a hand on Dean’s stomach. 

John was about to pull the man away from his son when a light seemed to radiate out from where the guy’s hand was. And then Dean began to convulse slightly. When the young boy’s eyes snapped open, his father forgot all about the strange man in the trench coat.

“Dean? Buddy, can you hear me?” he reached forwards and once again stroked his son’s hair.

“Dad?” He blinked slowly a few times and then his gaze focused on Mary. “Mom? What… oh!” What could only be described as recognition flashed through the boy’s eyes and then he looked at the stranger. “Dude, Cas, ‘bout time you showed.”

John opened his mouth but no words could form. Dean didn’t really sound like himself nor did he seem the least bit traumatized by his death and recovery. And he somehow knew Castiel.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t get involved in the fight against Azazel without attracting the attention of angels that may have tried to stop me. I also wasn’t sure how much power it would take to accomplish all of this. I had feared that I would be unconscious for quite some time.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” John interrupted. “Who are you?” He was trying desperately to wrap his head around what had happened in the last few minutes. How had this man healed John’s dead son? Hell, he hadn’t even figured out how Dean had been killed in the first place.

“I already told you…”

“Yeah, well, you can tell it to the cops when they get here.” John stood to go get the phone but two voices stopped him.

“No!” Dean and Mary cried out at the same time.

“What? Why not?”

“John, this is all going to be hard to understand, but we cannot get the police involved.”

“Mom’s right. Please, Dad, don’t call the cops. We can explain everything to you but the cops’ll just get in the way and screw everything up.”

John couldn’t believe what he’d just heard come from his son’s mouth. “Dean!”

The boy shrugged. Mary’s hand shook slightly as she wiped the blood away from the child’s belly. There was not a mark on him. Both parents stared in surprise. John knew he should’ve figured out that the wound would be gone since his son was alive, but seeing it was still a shock. All thoughts of calling out law enforcement disappeared from John’s mind as he was forced to go back to thinking about what had occurred in this room. And man, did he not want to think about that. He wanted to take charge and pretend that things weren’t spiraling out of his control. But there was just so much that defied rational explanation and it was overloading his brain. John needed to make sense of all of this. He just wasn’t sure how to.

“Dad, get Sammy out of his crib and hand him to me. He’s crying his head off.” Dean sat up in his mother’s arms.

John stared at his son in disbelief. His four year old had just given him an order. And since when had Dean called him ‘Dad’ instead of ‘Daddy’?

“Dad! C’mon, he needs me.”

“Dean, you can’t…”

“Here.” 

John turned to see Castiel holding the baby, who was still crying.

“You! Put my son down!” John growled. 

He was pissed when the trench coat wearing man completely ignored him. Instead, the man walked around Mary and crouched down in front of her and Dean. Dean reached his skinny arms out and took the infant from Castiel. The boy held his little brother close.

“You’re okay, Sammy. Everything’s gonna be okay now. You’re safe and I’ll keep you safe.”

Baby Sammy reached up and grabbed onto Dean’s face as his sobs slowly died down to hiccups. 

“Dean, we need to discuss what happens next.” Castiel announced.

“You talk to me, not the child.” John insisted.

“Just wait ‘til Sammy’s asleep, Cas. Then we’ll talk.” Dean answered as though John hadn’t spoken.

“I would like to know what’s going on with you.” Mary directed her statement to Dean.

“Look, I told you I’d explain everything but I really want to get Sammy back to sleep.” 

“Have you all lost your minds?” John just about shouted. “We have a dead body in the room, a stranger claiming to be an angel, Dean almost died, and you all just want to sit around and talk things out?!”

“Quiet, Dad!” Dean hissed. “You’re scaring Sammy.”

And sure enough, the baby was starting to cry again.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Dean. What the hell is up with you?”

“Please calm down.” Castiel requested.

“And you definitely don’t tell me what to do!”

“John, please, you’re not helping the situation.” Mary spoke up.

And that was the last straw. The world had gone insane and while John was trying to make sense of everything, he was being shut down by everyone from his wife, to his four year old son, to the goddamn stranger who’d somehow gotten into his house. He half expected the dead guy on the floor to start arguing with him as well. 

“Well you know what will help the situation? Me calling the cops.”

“No.” Mary and Dean protested yet again.

“We have a corpse in our house. We have to report it.”

“We can’t explain it to them.”

John turned to his wife. “It was self-defense, Mary. They’ll understand.”

“No, they’ll take the Colt. We can’t let them take it.” Dean insisted.

“And where did you get the gun, Mary?” John asked, his son’s statement reminding him of that question.

“You’ll have to ask Dean.” She replied.

“I sent it to him.” Castiel admitted.

“What?!” 

Sammy started crying again. 

“Everyone shut the hell up!” Dean cried out. “You’re upsetting him.” Then he turned his attention back to the baby in his arms and lowered his voice. “Shhhh, it’ll be okay, Sammy. Shhhhh. I’ll take care of you.”

John grabbed fistful of Castiel’s trench coat. “You gave my son a gun?”

“It was needed for him to protect this family.”

“I protect this family. Not a little kid.”

“You failed the first time around. That is why it became Dean’s job.”

“First time around? What the hell are you talking about? I never failed my family, you crackpot. I don’t know who you are, but the cops’ll have to deal with you. And don’t anyone disagree with me this time. I’m calling them. If the neighbors haven’t already.”

“I made sure no one heard the gunshots.” Castiel informed him.

John ignored him and went to leave the room to get the phone. Mary still sat on the floor with Dean in her lap and neither made a move to get up, but Castiel quickly blocked his way.

“You can’t do that.”

“Move, or I’ll move you.” John threatened. He was an ex-Marine and could take down this idiot without breaking a sweat. The man may have somehow healed his son, but he had admitted to giving the boy a weapon and was quite possibly insane, so if he had to be dealt with, John would do it without a second thought.

“No. Please calm down or I will have to make you calm down.”

“I’d like to see you try.” John laughed.

“Don’t hurt him, Cas.” 

“I won’t, Dean. But he is past the point of reason.”

John grabbed the man by the shoulders and was about to shove him out of the way, when Castiel reached a hand up and lightly touched his forehead. Everything went dark.


	5. My Dean

Chapter Five: My Dean

“John!” Mary cried out as her husband fell to the ground. She wanted to run to him but Dean was still in her lap and after holding his dead body just minutes ago, she wasn’t ready to let go of her miraculously revived son. “What did you do to him?”

“He’s fine, Mom. Cas just put him to sleep.” Then the boy turned to Castiel. “You know, you could’ve caught him.”

The man (angel?) looked down at John. “Yes, I could’ve. But I didn’t think of it.”

Dean shook his head, an amused expression on his childish face.

Mary looked down to see that Sammy was fast asleep once again. “Dean, let’s get Sammy back in his crib and then we need to talk.”

The boy nodded his head and stood up, still clutching the baby tightly to his chest. Mary got to her feet and took the infant from her son’s arms and laid him in the crib. Then she walked over and knelt down next to her husband. She hadn’t been too worried since she doubted that Dean would’ve been so calm if John was hurt. A quick check showed him to be fine. 

“Can you get him to bed?” She asked Castiel.

He nodded and reached down to touch the sleeping man. John disappeared.

“He is resting in your bed and will probably remain asleep until around noon time tomorrow. He will awake refreshed and hopefully calmer.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, right. He’s gonna wake up pissed.”

Mary couldn’t help but silently agree with her son even as she was startled yet again by his language. This was not the Dean that she was used to.

“I’ll take care of the body.” Castiel offered gesturing to the dead man who’d been possessed. 

“Thanks, Cas.”

Mary felt that she should say something as well, but she was struggling a bit with all that had just happened. A demon (the one she’d made a deal with) had come for her six month old, had killed her oldest son, and then she had killed the demon (something that she’d once considered impossible), and then an angel had brought her son back to life. All of this in the space of only a few minutes. It was no wonder that her husband had lost it. And speaking of which, John was now going to know about all the stuff she’d always wanted to protect him and her children from. Of course, one of her kids seemed to know more about all of this than even she did, and it was time to find out how. 

“While he takes care of that, you and I are going to go downstairs to talk.” Mary ordered.

Dean bit his lower lip and seemed a bit nervous but he nodded. Mary picked him up and held him in her arms as she walked out of the nursery. She was a little reluctant to leave her youngest son unguarded, but it seemed that the threat was over and she didn’t want to disturb Sammy’s sleep with their talking. Dean rested his head on her shoulder and clung to her tightly. She wondered if the weight of what had just happened was setting in on the boy because his grip was strong, as if he didn’t ever want to let go. 

When Mary entered the living room, she sat down on the couch and settled Dean on her lap. Part of her wanted to be more stern with the child and sit him opposite of her to try and stare him down but the memory of his death prevented her from doing so. Still, she wasn’t going to let anything stop her from getting answers.

“What’s going on, Dean?”

“I don’t even know how to begin.” He shifted so that he was looking up at her. There was something in his eyes that Mary found unnerving. A sadness and unimaginable pain that a four year old should not know. “I… I’m from the future. Sort of…”

Mary wanted to laugh at that if only the boy didn’t look so serious. “What are you talking about?”

“Please just hear me out, Mom.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You were supposed to die tonight after Sammy was infected with demon blood. And Dad, he saw you killed by the demon. He wanted revenge so he learned all that he could about the supernatural and became a hunter. And he took Sammy and me with him. We were raised on the road, jumping from one crappy motel to another. I was left in charge of protecting Sammy and was trained to be a hunter like Dad. Eventually Sammy found out the truth and joined the family business too. And it went on like that for years. But eventually Dad found the demon that killed you, Azazel. And the demon claimed his life too. I killed the son of a bitch the following year. Then a bunch of other crap happened until the whole world was ending. At that point, Cas told me that he could send me back in time to save you and stop that whole piss poor future from happening but he neglected to mention that my consciousness would be in my four year old body. And that’s about it.”

Mary stared at him, begging him to just grin and tell her that it was all a joke. But she knew that he was telling the truth. A mother always knows when her child is lying. But still…

“No. No, that’s impossible.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Mary turned her head to see Castiel standing only a few feet away. “But how…”

“There are several reasons that I could not bring Dean back here to change the future in his adult body. This was the way that it had to be.”

Mary stared down at the child on her lap, trying to get it through her head that he wasn’t actually a child. He looked like her Dean. Except of course for the eyes. Her son should not have that look in his eyes.

“Well, that future’s been changed now, right?” Mary questioned. 

“Yes.” Castiel confirmed.

“Then why is Dean still like this?”

“Because it is who he is.”

“No. Dean is an innocent little boy.”

“Mom…” Dean tried to join in.

Mary shook her head as she stood up, the person who looked like her son falling from her lap onto the couch.

“No. I want my son back.” She demanded.

“I _am_ your son.” His voice was pleading.

“No.” Mary shook her head again. She just wanted her innocent little boy back. Not this boy who was actually a man and looked like he’d survived several wars and not always come out on top. Her son should never have to live through any of that. 

“Mom, please.” Now the boy was sounding desperate and tears were coming to his large green eyes.

Mary found that she could look into those eyes no longer without losing her sanity. “No, my son is an innocent little boy.” She repeated. “This… this can’t be…” She turned away from the couch to face Castiel. “Bring my son back. I want my Dean back.”

“Mom, _I’m_ your Dean.” And the tiny little voice was far too broken to belong to a child of only four years.

Mary couldn’t even face him. “No, you’re not. You can’t be.” _Because I never wanted my Dean to know this kind of pain._ She added in her head but could not say out loud because her voice just got stuck in her throat with all the emotion.

Mary heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Dean running up the stairs, small face buried in his hands. Great. She’d caused even more pain to her baby. But she couldn’t find it in her to follow him. She didn’t want to see any more of the broken person that her son had become. She felt that it would break her as well.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean ran into his bedroom, trying to hold back the sobs that were threatening to overtake him. He pulled his hands away from his damp face long enough to close the door behind himself, then hurled his tiny body onto the bed. The boy curled in on himself and felt his body shaking with emotion. Dean knew that his much younger body didn’t have the ability to hold back the tears like he was used to doing. For some reason he was now forced to deal with the emotions of a small child. And he just couldn’t do it. Hell, he’d never been all that good with dealing with emotions before, preferring to bury them and ignore them, but now it was so much worse, all the feelings he’d always suppressed being magnified by his pre-school aged brain. And man, did it suck. 

The words played over and over in his head. _I want my Dean back._ ‘Mom, I’m your Dean.’ _No you’re not._

She’d rejected him. His own mother had rejected him. Growing up, Dean had been abandoned by his father more times than he could count and had never gotten the man’s approval. And then Sam had gotten older, seen him for the disappointment that he was and had left him too. The only family member who’d never cast him out or run away from him had been his mom. But as it turned out, that was probably just because she’d died before she had been forced to see the person that he’d grown up to become. And now, only moments after meeting him, she’d rejected him. 

_I want my son back._

Was he really that much of a failure that his mom couldn’t even stand to call him her son? Well, yeah, he probably was. After all, here he was, curled up on his bed crying like a freakin’ baby. He needed to get a grip. He was Dean Winchester, and Dean Winchester did not cry. But he _was_ crying and he just couldn’t stop. He’d gotten his mother back only to have her abandon him just like everyone always did. And she didn’t even know his whole pathetic story. If she did, she’d probably chase him from the house and lock the door behind him. Which brought to mind another worry. What would happen if she did make him leave? He’d be alone. No. She wouldn’t do that, would she?

_I want my Dean back._

It was obvious that she didn’t want him. And Dad had never wanted him before so why would he want him now? And Sammy would have both parents and certainly wouldn’t need a broken older brother. So yeah, he was destined to be abandoned and forgotten. But at least the rest of his family would have a chance at a good life. And that should be all that mattered. But Dean couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself that he couldn’t be a part of that. That he’d been rejected yet again.

_I want my Dean back._ ‘Mom, I’m your Dean.’ _No you’re not._

With the words still playing over and over in his head, drowning out the victory he’d felt earlier with the death of Azazel, Dean pulled his blanket up and over his suddenly chilly body. The distraught boy closed his eyes and cried himself into an uneasy sleep.


	6. Answers You May Not Want

Chapter Six: Answers You May Not Want

Castiel watched Dean flee from the room and was torn on what to do. He wanted to go after his friend and try to comfort him. The angel knew that Dean was suffering from the emotions that his much younger brain chemistry and hormones would be causing and that he would need help to deal with all of this. Especially after the confrontation that the boy had just had with his mother. But he wasn’t certain that Dean would accept any support at the moment. Besides, Mary Winchester looked like she could use some advice right about now. This had been a lot to dump on the woman all at once. Perhaps once she was able to deal with everything, she would get along with Dean better. And that would definitely help Castiel’s friend. Because Dean certainly couldn’t go through anymore talks like what had just occurred. Decision made, the angel stepped closer to the distraught mother that had once again sat down on the couch.

“Dean _is_ your son. I know that this is all difficult to accept, but he grew up to be a good man. A person you should be proud of.”

Mary looked up at him. “That’s not even the point. He shouldn’t _be_ a man. He should be a kid. You shouldn’t have given him the memories of an adult. That’s not fair.” She had gone from being sad to angry and her anger was definitely being directed at him.

Castiel tipped his head to the side. “I understand now. You think I forced adult memories onto your four year old son. That isn’t what happened. I took your son’s soul from the future and brought him back here.”

“What’s the difference? My baby still loses his childhood.”

“No, he doesn’t. He had his childhood and grew up. The Dean you know was not destroyed, but lived thirty more years. When given the opportunity to come back to this night and prevent your death, he agreed. But I can’t take those years away from him and let him have the second childhood we both think he deserves.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I did, the future would end up even darker than it was. There are people that your husband and sons saved that still need to be saved. Events that still need to take place.”

“Someone else can do it.” Mary insisted.

“If it were that easy, I myself would take that burden from your son.” Castiel hung his head, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on the woman’s face. He himself wished that there had been another way, but this was the only option. “But it has to be him. Also, both demons and angels have plans for your family that Dean has derailed tonight. Unfortunately, they will not be ready to give up this easily and may even seek revenge. Dean wouldn’t live long without his knowledge and experience. This will not be easy on him, but at least this time around he will have support.”

“Support? What do you mean? Didn’t he have support before?”

“No. With you dead and your husband obsessed with hunting, Dean was left alone to raise himself and his brother. I trust that that won’t be the case this time.” Castiel knew that it came out as an order with a hint of a threat, but he wanted to make certain that Dean would be treated well. He didn’t blame Mary for her initial reaction to Dean’s unique situation, but he wouldn’t stand for her to continue to shun the child. Dean deserved better. 

“But, he already grew up like that. I wish he hadn’t had to, but what can I do about it now?”

Castiel tried to think of a way to explain the situation to her. “I’m certain you saw his emotional reaction to the night’s events.” When she nodded, he continued. “Before I brought him back here, Dean would not have reacted that way. He would have been upset, but would’ve hidden his feelings from everyone, just as he always has. But now, he may have all of his adult memories, but in some ways he is a four year old child. The emotions he faces are not that of his adult self. He will deny it and attempt to act like a grown-up, but he will need you more than ever.”

“Me?”

“Dean missed you greatly over the years. Having you back in his life will make him very pleased.”

Castiel could see that Mary was thinking everything over. He knew that while she was upset over the loss of the four year old version of her son, she still loved Dean and would want what was best for him. He only hoped that it was possible for his friend to find a little bit of peace and happiness now. But a lot of that would hinge on Mary’s treatment of her son. Castiel prayed for the best as he waited for her response.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary tried to comprehend everything that Castiel had just told her. She wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about all of it. 

She’d felt sad that she’d lost her Dean, but the boy that had run upstairs _was_ her Dean. She guessed it was kind of like those parents who’d had their kids taken from them only to get them back years later. But no time had passed for her, so it was strange to think that thirty years had passed for her son. And it didn’t help that he looked just like he had when he’d gone to bed that night.

She’d felt angry at Castiel for giving her son all the memories of an adult at such a young age, but he’d explained that it wasn’t really like that. While Mary was still trying to completely understand what had happened with Dean, she now believed that this angel wouldn’t have actually done anything hurtful to him as he seemed to actually care about Dean.

She’d felt scared since her family had been attacked by a demon and Castiel was suggesting that it was far from over, but then again, they’d all survived tonight. And it seemed that they really did have an angel watching over them.

So she settled for feeling confused. Because she didn’t think there was anything in the world that would take away all the questions that were running through her mind. But maybe Castiel could at least try.

“Why Dean? Why does he have to do all this?”

“Because he is supposed to. I once told your son that destiny can’t be changed, and I was correct to a point. I’ve since discovered that it’s possible to alter some events and outcomes but others must remain the same. And Dean was meant to hunt. He was meant to save this world.”

Mary stared at him. “The world? That’s quite a bit to put on his shoulders.”

“It is.” Castiel admitted. “But we can help him bear the load.”

Mary tried to comprehend that her baby boy, who was not so young as he looked anymore, was charged with saving the world. And here she’d been hoping to give her children an easier life than she’d had. 

“Are you going to stay with him?”

Castiel seemed to consider her question. “I had considered going back to my own time, in which case I myself would cease to exist since the events that formed me into who I am will be changed, but I now feel that it would be best for Dean if I stayed.”

“Of course it would!” Mary exclaimed. “You’re the only one who really knows him.” And boy did it hurt to admit that a stranger knew her son better than she did. Even if that stranger was an angel of the Lord. “He’s going to need you.”

“Then I will be there for him.”

Mary stared into the angel’s eyes. She was beginning to like this guy. He obviously cared about Dean and if Mary hadn’t been able to be there for her son as he grew up, at least someone had. But then again, Castiel had said that Dean had been alone for most of his life.

“How long have you known Dean? When did you meet him?”

And now Castiel looked uncomfortable. He had some information that he didn’t seem to want to share.

“I met your son a few years ago.”

Well, that was short and non-informative. And now Mary knew that he was hiding something. After all the upsetting information he’d readily gave out, the truth on how he’d met Dean must be pretty bad if he chose now to clam up. 

“What happened to him?” Mary demanded. “You’ve already told me that he had to raise himself and Sam. He was forced into a hunter’s lifestyle at a young age and he admitted that ‘a bunch of crap’ happened to him. But what was it that happened a few years ago that warranted an angel to show up?”

Castiel shifted from foot to foot, before looking her in the eye. “I pulled Dean out from Hell.”

Mary stared at him for a moment. “Hell? You… you mean like a bad situation, right?”

“No. I mean Hell. The actual place. His soul had been sent to Hell and he’d been tortured. I was charged with pulling him from the pit. I gripped him tight and delivered his soul back to his body.”

Mary was glad that she was sitting down because she felt incredibly weak. Hell. Her baby had been to Hell. A place of eternal torment and her precious little son had been there. No. That was just… no.

“But… how? Why? You… you said… you told me that Dean had grown to be a good man. If that’s true, what was he doing in Hell?”

“Dean sold his soul to bring Sam back from the dead after one of Azazel’s intended soldiers killed him. He was given a year and when his time was up, Dean was dragged into the pit.”

“And you let that happen?” 

“I did not know him at the time. He was not mine to look out for then.”

“Then who was looking out for my son, huh? I told him angels watched over him and then all of you were just sitting back relaxing in heaven as my baby was forced to sell his soul and then was condemned to Hell!” Then a memory hit her on what happened to those whose time was up. “Oh! Oh, God, no. Please tell me the hellhounds didn’t come for him.” Castiel’s silence was enough of an answer. Tears ran down Mary’s face as she tried to comprehend all of what her son had had to go through. “No. Oh, God. Please no. Not Dean. I can’t… I just can’t believe he had to… How long? How long was he down there before you rescued him?”

“It was four months up here, but many years down there. I am sorry it took so long for me to get to him. Raiding Hell is not easy, not even for an angel.”

“How bad was it for him?” Mary’s voice came out as just a whisper as she asked the question that she didn’t really want an answer for.

“Bad. But your son is strong. The strongest human I’ve ever met. He’s survived.”

“He shouldn’t have had to.”

“No, he shouldn’t have.”

Mary sat in silence for a while, trying to digest information that she wished she’d never received. She had always pictured Dean growing up in a loving family, excelling at school (because already he was proving to be a smart, creative child), getting a good job, meeting and marrying the girl of his dreams, having a family of his own, and just being happy. But no. He’d grown up with no support, learned how to kill evil creatures when he should’ve been learning typical grade school lessons, become a full-time hunter, and then ended up being ripped apart by hellhounds and tortured in Hell. This was the furthest thing from what she’d wanted for her son.

“What… what’s he like?”

“Dean is brave, loyal, and very strong-willed. He is a skilled hunter and does not back down. He can also be very compassionate. He has an odd sense of humor and hides his feelings behind a carefree attitude.”

“And is there any happiness in his life?”

“He is pleased when he successfully completes a hunt.”

“No, I mean, is he ever really happy?”

“Well, driving the Impala brings him joy. And he is happy when he can make Sam happy. He likes greasy food and pie. Oh, and he seems to enjoy it when he indulges in alcohol and women.”

Mary put up her hand to cut him off. “I don’t need to hear that.”

Castiel looked confused. “But you asked…”

“Yes and no mother ever needs to hear about certain things that her son does once he’s grown.”

The angel nodded even though he still seemed confused. 

But his response had saddened Mary further. Not only had Dean had to endure terrible things, but it seemed that there were very few bright spots in his life. And then guilt crashed down on her as she realized that she’d added to his list of hurts when she’d told him that he wasn’t her son. Yes, she did still wish he was her innocent little four year old. But Dean was still her son, no matter what life may have put him through.

Mary had just resolved to go upstairs and try to patch things up between herself and her first born son, when Dean’s terrified scream pierced the quiet of the night.


	7. Waking Up From Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Semi-graphic descriptions of Hell torture.

Chapter Seven: Waking Up From Hell

Dean gritted his teeth against the intense pain that was shooting through his body. He was suspended far above… well, he wasn’t sure what exactly was beneath him but it couldn’t possibly be good… by chains. And the chains were connected to him by large hooks that dug into his flesh. Any movement on his part made them tear his skin and muscle even more, but it was impossible to stay completely still. Besides, the weight of his body was pulling him downward against the metal that pierced his skin, causing him extreme agony. And it was hot. So dreadfully hot that sweat poured down off of him. His throat was raw from screaming for help that he knew would never come. He wished that it would all just be over, but he knew that that would never happen. And he couldn’t even pray for death to end his suffering since he was already dead. Dead and in Hell. His eternal torment had just begun and he’d already had more than enough. 

Suddenly he felt the chains begin to move. They were pulling out and away from him, but the hooks were still inside of his body. Dean let out a strangled moan as he felt the cold metal stretch out his skin as far as it could go. And then he once more found his voice to scream in agony as his flesh ripped open and he fell. 

But he didn’t have far to fall. Dean landed on a spider-web of chains that had been a few dozen feet below him. He shook from the pain and let out small pathetic noises as he tried to move himself. Blood streamed down from a huge gash in his shoulder and the gaping wound in his side. The other tears in his skin and muscles weren’t quite as bad. Dean shakily got to his knees and tried to figure out where to go from there. But before he could come up with some sort of plan, more hooks connected to chains shot out of nowhere and embedded themselves in him. Seconds later, he was right back where he started. 

Dean tried to cry out in pain, but nothing except for blood came out of his mouth. This time, one of the hooks had pierced his throat. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to find a position where maybe it wouldn’t hurt quite so much. But there wasn’t even a small amount of relief to be had. 

The hunter had no clue how long he hung suspended like that before he felt the chains pulling once again. This time, he didn’t make any sound as the hooks tore his flesh apart. Dean fell once more into another mass of chains.

The severely injured young man didn’t wait for more hooks to dig into him this time. He rolled off the chains and fell again. And again. Dean figured that if he kept moving, maybe he’d be able to outrun the torture that was intended for him. Maybe he’d find a moment of relief. But then he freed himself from a web of chains to find himself in a freefall. 

The drop took forever and the impact was horrendous. Dean felt all his bones break and his insides getting crushed. But still, he was conscious when he caught fire and the tattered remains of his skin began to burn. He couldn’t move or even scream as his flesh blackened and peeled away. His internal organs cooked and the agony was beyond anything he’d ever imagined. Even knowing that he couldn’t make a sound, Dean opened his mouth to cry out in terror and pain.

“Ahhhhhh!” Dean didn’t even realize that he was audibly screaming. He just wanted to escape the pain. But he was sure that he’d never be able to, so he kept on screaming. 

Then arms circled around him and he felt another stab of fear go through him as he wondered who’d grabbed him and what they were going to do to him next. “No! Stop! Please let me go. Please.” He knew he was begging and pleading but he couldn’t help it. Everything was just too much for him. He expected his captor to laugh or mock him. He didn’t expect to hear a calming, soothing voice telling him everything was okay, but that was exactly what was reaching his ears.

“Dean, sweetie, wake up. You’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you, baby. You’re safe. It’s okay, Dean. Everything’s okay now. You’re safe, baby.” 

Dean opened his eyes to find himself not in Hell but in something damned close to his idea of Heaven. His mother was holding him close to her, rubbing his back, and rocking him gently as she spoke reassurances over and over. He felt safe and loved. Dean reached tiny arms up to wrap around his mother as tears ran from his eyes. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary had run into her son’s bedroom expecting to see some demon trying to once more kill Dean. Instead, she saw her son tangled up in his blankets, thrashing around and making small noises of distress. She ran to him immediately and sat down on the bed.

“Dean, sweetie, wake up.”

Instead of waking, the boy curled in on himself and began moaning and sobbing in his sleep. The sounds he was making reminded Mary of a hunt that she’d gone on long ago with her father. They had been hunting a werewolf and had tracked it down moments too late to save the beast’s newest victim. The young man lay there making the most pathetic and agonized sounds she’d ever heard and it was a relief when he’d finally died. And the noises her son was making were pretty much identical.

“Dean?”

And then he let out another scream that was filled with pain and fear. Mary scooped the boy up and out of the covers, pulling him tight to her chest. He started to struggle to get away and began to beg and plead with her to let him go. But, suspecting that he wasn’t really aware that it was his mother that was holding him, Mary held him even tighter and began to rub soothing circles on his back. 

“Dean, sweetie, wake up. You’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you, baby. You’re safe. It’s okay, Dean. Everything’s okay now. You’re safe, baby.” Mary tried to comfort the distressed child as she began to gently rock him like she would when he was a baby.

Dean’s eyes opened and he stopped fighting her and threw his arms around her, crying into her chest, his small body shaking violently.

Mary continued to soothe the distraught boy as she looked up and shot a questioning glance to Castiel, who had followed her upstairs. She was wondering if this was a result of the night’s events or something more. The angel was looking at Dean with such sorrow that Mary realized that Dean was dreaming of something far worse than his encounter with the demon.

She ran a hand through her son’s hair as she felt his trembling start to slow. 

“Hey, baby. What happened?”

The boy shrugged. “Bad dream.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll be fine.” But his reassurances would’ve sounded more sincere if he wasn’t still crying a little bit.

“Dean, you know that you can tell me, right?”

“It’s nothing.” The child pulled away and crawled back onto the mattress. Mary noticed for the first time that he was still wearing his bloody pajamas. 

“We should get you cleaned up a bit.” 

Dean looked down at himself, surprise registering on his face as he realized that he was covered in his own dried blood.

“Yeah… I’ll go get washed up.”

“I’ll get the water ready for you after I get some clean pajamas out.” Mary offered, standing to walk to his dresser.

“I got it.” Dean stated.

“Dean, let me help.”

“Just stop!” The boy looked like he was going to burst into tears again. 

“Stop what?” Mary asked, thinking that he was probably going to get mad that she was treating him like a child. Castiel had warned her that he would try to act like he was still his normal self.

“Stop pretending that you care! I don’t know why you’re doing it, but stop.”

“Dean. I’m not pretending. I’m your mother, I love you, so of course I care!”

“But… no. You said that I’m not your son. You don’t want me, so don’t you dare say that you actually care.”

Now Mary had tears running from her eyes as well. “Oh baby, no. I didn’t mean that. Not like you think I did. I just… it hurt to think that my son had to live through all that you’ve lived through. I still want you. And I’ll always love you.”

Dean was looking at her with a hopeful yet cautious expression. “You… you’re not disappointed in me?”

Mary walked over and picked him up once again. “Never.”

After a moment, she felt Dean hug her back. She squeezed him tightly before placing him back down on the bed. He gave her a small smile. She could tell that he was still a bit unsure but knew that in time her actions would be able to convince him that she hadn’t been trying to reject him earlier.

“So, why don’t I go get things ready?” 

“Okay, Mom.” Dean agreed.

Mary turned to Castiel who had remained silent the whole time. “You’ll keep an eye on him until I come back?”

“Of course.”

“Hey, I’m right here.” Dean interrupted, obviously annoyed that he was being talked about while he was within earshot.

“I’ll be right back.” Mary promised as she left the room.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean watched his mom walk out of his bedroom. He wasn’t sure what to believe or how to feel. He desperately wanted what she’d just told him to be the truth but it was hard to believe that she really wanted him. In Dean’s experience, he was only really needed when it came to hunting and after his usefulness was over, he’d be abandoned. But she said she’d always want him. Always love him. So maybe that meant that she’d never leave him. Maybe…

Dean turned to Cas, a little embarrassed that the angel had just seen him sobbing like a baby. “Dude, what the hell is going on? I just had the absolute worst Hell flashback that I’ve ever had. I mean seriously disturbing crap. It wasn’t even this bad right after you pulled my ass out of the pit.”

“I believe it is a side effect of your new age. A child’s mind is not equipped to handle the memories that you possess.”

“So, what? They’re just gonna keep coming?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean, you’re not sure? You’re the one who did this to me.”

“Yes, and it is the first time I’ve ever done something like this. I don’t know much more than you do.”

“Awesome.” Dean commented sarcastically. Inside, he was terrified of the idea that he’d have any more flashback dreams as vivid as the one he’d just woken from.

The tiny hunter jumped off his bed and walked over to his desk. He grabbed the chair and dragged it over to his dresser. Then he stood up on it and pulled open the top drawer. Dean pulled out a pair of blue pajamas with red fire trucks on them. Not really his style anymore but they were better than the red plaid ones that had faded to an almost pink color. Clothing in hand, he closed the drawer and hopped off the chair.

“I could’ve gotten that for you.” Cas informed him.

“Well, make yourself useful and put the chair back.” Dean responded with a smile.

Cas did as asked, although Dean hadn’t actually been serious about his request. He knew that his new size meant that he’d need help with many things he was used to doing by himself. But he’d be damned (again) if he was going to let everything be done for him. Even if part of him thought that it would be actually nice to be cared for for a change.

Without glancing back, Dean headed out of his room and towards the bathroom to get cleaned up. And maybe wash away the horrors that the nightmare had left behind.


	8. Between Relaxation and Anxiety

Chapter Eight: Between Relaxation and Anxiety

Dean walked into the upstairs bathroom and stopped dead in his tracks. His mom was crouched down by the bathtub, her hand held under the running water to check the temperature, even though the tub was already almost full. Full of water and bubbles.

“Really, Mom? A bubble bath?” Dean asked with an amused tone.

She turned to look at him with an embarrassed expression. “I’m sorry. I forgot that you’re not exactly a kid. I just… you always love it when there are a lot of bubbles and I wanted to… I’m sorry.”

Dean laughed. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s cool.” 

It had been a very long time since Dean had indulged in a bubble bath. Crappy motel bathrooms come equipped with dirty shower stalls that have terrible water pressure, not comfy bathtubs in which one could take a warm soaking bath. He’d been taking showers since he was four years old and struggling to find ways to bathe baby Sammy without access to a tub (mostly using kitchenette sinks). Not that he’d ever admit it, but he was looking forward to this bubble bath and was grateful to his mother for preparing it for him.

As his mom turned the water off, Dean began to unbutton his pajama shirt. He pulled the bloodstained clothing off of his little torso and dropped it to the floor. His mother got up and laid one towel on the floor in front of the tub, and then placed a folded one on the counter near the sink for Dean to use when his bath was over. After that was done, she turned to face him. A moment passed as they both stood watching the other.

“Uh, Mom… you can go now.”

“No, I can’t, Dean.” She replied.

“Dude, I’m not stripping in front of you.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. And I’m not leaving you in the tub alone. You could drown.”

“As you just pointed out, I’m not a kid.” Dean shot back.

“But you are the size of one and haven’t slept much tonight. If you accidentally fall asleep in the tub, you’ll drown. Besides, the walls of the tub are too high for you to be able to get in on your own.”

“I’ll use the step stool.” Dean insisted, pointing at the blue and gray plastic step in front of the sink.

“And then fall in and crack your head open. I don’t want Castiel to have to revive you again tonight.”

Dean knew that she was right but it was difficult to accept that he was going to need help with something as simple as bathing. 

“Fine.” He conceded, and then pointed at her, a serious look on his childish face. “But don’t look.”

His mom tried to hide her smile. “Got it.” Then she turned away from him. 

Dean pulled off the pajama pants and the blue and white striped underwear. He looked at the clothing, still in shock at the very idea that stuff that small could possibly fit him. He walked over to the tub and looked in. His mom had been right. There was no way for him to safely climb in by himself. 

“Okay, I’m ready.”

His mother turned back and picked him up, obviously trying to avert her eyes as much as possible to help preserve what little was left of his dignity. And Dean loved her even more for it.

Once he was settled in the tub, small body covered by warm water and soap bubbles, he closed his eyes and let out a content sigh. This was awesome.

After a moment, he opened his eyes again and he saw his mom sitting on the closed toilet seat looking at him with a small smile on her face. Dean glanced down at himself and, seeing that his naked body was not visible past the pile of bubbles, decided not to take issue with the fact that he was being watched in the bathtub.

“I see you still enjoy bubble baths.”

“It’s nice.” He admitted. Dean slid under the water to get his hair wet and then resurfaced. His small hand grabbed the shampoo bottle, flipped the top open, and poured a small amount into his other hand. He lathered it up and then covered his shaggy hair with it. After a few trips back underwater to rinse, the boy snatched up the washcloth and cleaned himself off, careful to remain concealed beneath the bubbles as he did so. When he was done, he leaned back and relaxed. “I can get used to this.” 

“I’m glad.” 

Dean looked back to his mother and discovered that she looked a bit sad. Fear stabbed his heart as he wondered if she was getting upset over him again, if she would reject him again. With a shaky voice (damned little kid emotions) he questioned her. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Nothing. It’s just… it’s nice to see you happy. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve a little relaxation.”

“Wasn’t so bad.” Dean shrugged. “And we ganked the son of a bitch, so alls well that ends well and all that crap, right?”

His mom blinked at him for a moment and then shook her head. “I just wish you hadn’t had to die like that tonight. It must’ve been horrible. And I wasn’t just talking about this night. I meant the way you grew up, and the hunting, and…and you know, all the time you had to spend in Hell.”

Dean had been poking at some of the larger bubbles with his finger, but at that statement his head shot back up. “What? Hell? Why would you… how did you…”

“Castiel told me that you sold your soul to save Sam. He said that you spent a very long time in Hell.”

Dean felt caught somewhere in between panic and anger. And he was so sick of being scared that he settled for being angry.

“Dammit, Cas!” He all but shouted.

“What’s wrong Dean?”

Dean turned his head to see the angel now standing next to the tub. The boy felt his face heat up with embarrassment. 

“Dude, what the hell? I’m in the freakin’ bathtub, Cas! You can’t be here!”

“But you called for me.”

“No, I shouted your name out because I was pissed at you. It was not an invitation to drop by.”

“Oh. Well, now that I’m here, perhaps you could tell me what the problem is.”

“The ‘problem’ is that you told my mom that I went to Hell! Why would you do that?”

“She asked how we met.”

“And you had to tell her the truth?”

“I don’t lie well.”

“No? Really? I would never have guessed.”

“Dean, he was right to tell me.” Mary interrupted.

“No, he wasn’t. Because you shouldn’t have to know that.”

“I want to know everything about your life, Dean. I apparently missed thirty years of it and I just want to know who my baby boy grew up to be.”

And that was the problem right there. Because if she found out about him, she’d leave him for sure. But he couldn’t say that. “Yeah, well… careful what you wish for. ‘Cause I guarantee that you won’t want to know everything.”

“Let me decide that.”

Dean shrugged. He wanted to yell at Cas some more, but it was pointless. The damage was done now. So instead, the whole room descended into silence. After a couple of minutes, Cas broke the quiet.

“I think you used too much soap, Dean. There seems to be an overabundance of bubbles in your bathwater.”

“Out!” Dean yelled, pointing at the door.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean felt sleepier than ever as his mom carried him back to his room. Normally he’d protest at even the thought of being carried, but this wasn’t a normal situation. And besides, he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of his mother holding him. Once he’d toweled off and gotten dressed, his mom had gone to dry his hair and he’d asked her if she could cut it for him. He didn’t like his hair being so long, that was more Sammy’s thing than his, and he really wanted his usual haircut to make himself feel a bit more like his old self. His mom had agreed, and Dean had a feeling that she understood his reasons behind the request. After his hair was cut and blow dried, it was way past time that they try to get some sleep. The sun would be up in just a few hours and Dean doubted that the day ahead would be an easy one. They had yet to discuss what exactly they’d tell his dad and it was not a conversation that the pint-sized hunter was looking forwards to. Still, when his mom placed him on the bed, he was reluctant to sleep. Even after the bath, his Hell nightmare was still fresh in his mind. That was not something he wanted to relive again.

Dean lied down with his head on the pillow and his mom pulled the blanket up to cover him. He felt his heart start to beat rapidly even as his eyes tried to close. He could once more feel the hooks in his skin, the pain of torn flesh, and the feel of his skin burning. He went to sit up again, but his mom put a gentle hand on his chest to keep him down.

“You need sleep, Dean.”

“I… I don’t want to sleep, yet.”

“Your body is tired and requires rest.” Castiel spoke up from the corner of his room.

“I’m fine. I slept already.”

“Not long enough.” His mom responded.

“Are you concerned about further dreams about your time spent in Hell?” Cas asked.

Dean internally groaned as the angel brought the topic up in front of his mom. The less she knew about his time in the pit, the better.

“Is that what you were dreaming about?” His mom wanted to know.

Seeing as to how the cat was well and truly out of the bag already, Dean just nodded.

“Oh, sweetie. I know that it must be terrible for you, but you really need to sleep. You’ll get sick if you don’t.”

“I’ll try.” Dean gave in. They were right. He could feel that his body wasn’t going to be able to stay awake much longer. So, trying to put Hell out of his mind, the boy once more shut his eyes.

He felt his mom’s hand gently stroking through his short, spiky hair. He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

“Get some sleep, baby.”

“I will watch over you as you sleep.” Cas stated, walking to stand next to the bed.

It wasn’t the first time over the years that the angel had said that, and every other time Dean had shot him down, explaining that it was kind of creepy. But tonight, having his friend there was rather appealing. Not like he’d admit it though.

“Whatever floats your boat, dude.”

Castiel shot him a confused look. “I don’t own a boat, Dean.”

“It’s an expression, Cas. It means… do whatever makes you happy.”

“I understand.” 

Dean saw his mom smile and shake her head. He shrugged back at her. Then Dean closed his eyes once more and tried to think of his mom, who was going to live a long life now and Sammy, who wouldn’t be plagued with Azazel’s blood and his dad who wouldn’t end up a bitter, vengeful widower. He tried to fill his head with all the happy thoughts he could to try and block out the memories of unending torture and torment. As he drifted back into an uneasy sleep, Dean had a feeling that he would not succeed.


	9. Snapshots

Chapter Nine: Snapshots 

Mary woke to the sunlight streaming in through her window and warming her body. She sighed and rolled over, catching a glimpse of her husband sleeping next to her as she looked at her clock. It was just past ten in the morning. Shouldn’t John be at work by now? And why hadn’t Sammy woken her up already, crying and screeching for food and attention? And then the events of the previous night came crashing down on her.

With a gasp, Mary sat up in bed. She looked around her, waiting for something to be out of place. For something to show that her entire world had been turned upside down. But everything looked perfectly normal. She could almost believe that it had all just been a bad dream. Almost. But she knew the truth and, as a hunter, she’d learned that it could be very dangerous to reject the truth in favor of a nice fantasy. 

She got up out of bed and then saw the proof that her life had taken a very strange turn. Her nightgown from the night before lay discarded on her hamper, her son’s blood staining the once pretty fabric. She knew she’d have to throw it out. No amount of washing could ever get it clean.

Throwing a robe on over her light blue pajamas, Mary walked out of her room. But instead of going down the stairs, she took a detour down the hall. She looked into Dean’s room, expecting to see her son fast asleep, the trench coat wearing angel watching over him. But the bed was unmade and the room deserted. She was about to move on when something caught her eye. 

An old duffle bag lay open on the floor with an assortment of guns next to it. She’d seen it the night before, but had been too busy taking care of Dean to inspect it further. And since she knew that her son had spent years around weapons and had been smart enough to give her the Colt instead of trying to use it himself, she hadn’t seen it as a danger to leave the mess be for that moment. But now…

Mary made her way to the bag and crouched down. She placed all three guns and the boxes of ammunition back inside the duffle, along with the nasty looking knife and the bottle of holy water. Then she picked up a piece of plain white paper. Turning it over, she saw a note printed in neat handwriting. Curiosity got the best of her and she read it. It was from Castiel to Dean, wishing the boy luck and letting him know about the contents of the bag. Mary looked down at the remaining items, wanting to know what personal effects her son had held dear. There was an old looking journal and a few photographs scattered on the ground. After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up the photos.

She recognized the first one. It was a picture of John, her, and the boys that was taken not too long ago. But this copy of it looked old and worn. Mary flipped to the next. John stood in front of the Impala holding a toddler in his arms while a seven-ish year old Dean stood next to them. Unlike the first photo, no one was smiling. She wondered who’d taken the picture. The next showed two boys on the hood of an old car that was sitting in a scrap yard, playing with little green army men. The older boy (Dean, who looked to be around 10 or so) was sprawled out on his stomach while the younger (which must’ve been a six year old Sam) was sitting cross-legged. The following photo looked like a souvenir photo taken in a booth. The border was done-up like that of an old western wanted poster. A teenager with spiky hair and Dean’s green eyes looked slightly annoyed while a pre-teen boy with a mop of brown hair smiled at the camera. Mary guessed the picture was Sam’s idea, and not one that Dean had supported. She noticed that the teen was wearing the same strange charm around his neck that she’d seen her son wearing the night before. Mary would have to ask him about it. When she got to the next picture, Mary almost dropped them all. Two young men stood near the Impala in a picture that they obviously didn’t know was being taken until the last moment. The taller of the two had long shaggy brown hair that was obviously soaking wet and had turned to the camera while in the middle of trying to grab a mostly empty water bottle from the other man. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he’d gotten the water poured over his head and was now trying to get revenge. But it was the shorter man who caught Mary’s attention. Because he shouldn’t be in that picture. He was then hunter who’d showed up ten years ago when the demon, Azazel, had killed her parents. The one who’d warned her not to get out of bed on November second. The one who’d called himself Dean. He was her grown up son. Mary guessed he’d traveled back in time then as well, but it was just so hard to wrap her head around the idea that that man had been her son. In the picture he was smiling a cocky smile as he tried to keep the water bottle away from the other man, who must’ve been Sam. It was surreal to look at a picture of how her babies were going to look all grown up. But at least they seemed happy together. The next picture was a slightly blurry, off centered picture of her grown up sons and an older man in a trucker’s cap. They were all smiling at the camera. And the final photograph was of Dean and Castiel sitting at a motel table. The angel looked like a deer caught in the headlights, while her son was giving the photographer the finger. Mary couldn’t help but laugh.

She got up, taking the photos, the note, and the journal with her. She was tempted to open the battered book up and look through it but didn’t want to invade Dean’s privacy. Well, anymore than she already had by looking through his photographs. So Mary placed the items on her son’s nightstand. Then she pushed the duffle bag under Dean’s bed with her foot and left the room. 

Mary walked downstairs to the smell of bacon and eggs. John was still in bed though, so she figured that Castiel must’ve made breakfast. She’d have to thank him. It was weird to think that an angel had cooked for her. It was actually sometimes hard to remember that Castiel was an angel because of the way Dean treated him. She would’ve thought that her son would treat an angel with respect but he acted more like a person would with a close friend. 

As she stepped into the small dining room, she saw Dean kneeling on a chair that was pushed up close to the highchair where Sammy sat making happy noises around a mouthful of food. As she watched, Dean scooped up another spoonful of rice baby cereal and held it up to his little brother. The baby smiled and opened his mouth greedily. Dean fed him the cereal and then scooped up some more.

“Good morning.”

Dean turned to look at her. “’Mornin’.” 

“You should’ve woken me, Dean. I could’ve fed him.”

The boy shrugged. “It’s no problem, Mom. I’m used to it. Took care of Sammy all his life.”

“Well, you don’t have to now.” Mary informed him.

“Old habits die hard. ‘Sides, I don’t mind it. It’s cool seeing him little again.” 

“Well then, we do it together.” Mary insisted. She wanted to take the burden of raising his brother off of Dean, but was getting the idea that it wasn’t something the boy would easily let go of. Just then, Castiel wandered in from the kitchen. “Thank you for making breakfast.” Mary told him.

Dean started to laugh. “Dude, Cas can’t cook. If he made breakfast, I doubt it’d be edible.”

“I don’t need to eat, so cooking food never seemed important.” The angel defended himself.

“Whatever.” Dean was smirking.

“Then who…” Mary was going to ask who’d made breakfast, but since John was sleeping, Sammy was six months old, and Cas apparently couldn’t cook, that only left one option. “Dean? You made breakfast?”

“Yeah, bacon and eggs. Some toast too. Was gonna make some pancakes, but we’re outta mix.”

Mary glanced into the kitchen and saw that the step stool that typically sat in front of the sink for Dean to use was now in front of the stove. “You shouldn’t be using the stove! You could’ve burned yourself!”

“Mom, I’ve been cooking on a stove since I was just a bit older than this body is. I know what I’m doing.”

“Since you were… why? Didn’t your dad take care of the cooking?”

“Since when does Dad cook?”

“Well, if one of you were going to learn, it should’ve been him.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Like he was around enough to learn.” He mumbled.

Mary wasn’t sure if she wanted to know any more about how her boys grew up. Each new piece of information just broke her heart a little bit more. She knew that eventually she’d have to find out more details but, sensing that this was a touchy subject for her son as well, she changed the topic. “I’ll serve us some food.”

As they both were munching on the delicious breakfast, Mary took the time to study her son. He looked different with his hair so short. But the photos she had seen confirmed what she’d suspected the night before. Dean was used to short hair. The long hair his younger self had had up until last night probably seemed foreign to him now and Mary could only imagine how strange this whole situation was for him. If he wanted to change his look to feel a little more like himself, she wouldn’t argue. Truthfully, it also helped to remind her that he wasn’t the same Dean that she’d had yesterday. This was a bit sad but also useful, as she couldn’t keep treating him like he was a regular four year old. Besides the hair, there were other things that were different about him. His eyes had the look of a person who’d seen far too much. He held himself differently too. He sat slightly hunched over, but with an almost defiant set to his shoulders. And his smile wasn’t the bright, carefree smile of a child. But as she looked him over, something caught her eye and made her smile.

“Not the shirt I would think you’d choose to wear.” 

Dean looked down at his blue ‘I Wuv Hugs’ teddy bear t-shirt. “Sentimental reasons.”

“I always liked that shirt on you.”

“I know. You bought it for me.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Mary turned to Castiel.

“So, what’s next?”

“We tell John Winchester the truth when he wakes and then we all prepare for the battles to come.”

“Dude, that plan sucks ass.”

“Dean!” Mary scolded him. She’d been hearing that sort of language from her son since last night and had tried to ignore it but that sentence was just vulgar. 

“It’s true.” 

“Do you always talk like that?”

“Yes, he does. Although at times his expressions are more colorful.” Castiel answered for Dean.

Mary almost laughed at the thought that her son spoke like a drunken sailor in front of an angel of the Lord. But she decided to drop the subject for now. She seemed to be doing that an awful lot.

“Dean does have a point though. First off, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to tell John the truth about all of this. And secondly, what battles to come? I know you said there were things that Dean needed to do, but I assumed it was a bit further in his future.”

“No it’s not. Dean’s father was saving people when he was a small boy and those events must still take place. And I doubt the demons will leave your family alone. As for telling your husband, he will not forget the events of last night.”

“So, we make something up.” Dean suggested.

“And we don’t need to tell him about Dean, right?” Mary asked. Because that was one story that she didn’t want her husband to know. What exactly was she supposed to say? ‘Oh by the way honey, if I’d died last night you would have completely screwed our sons’ futures up’. Yeah, that would not be a wonderful conversation. And it would lead to him finding out about all things supernatural. Another thing she really hoped to avoid.

Castiel tipped his head to the side, looking both confused and curious. “Do you honestly think he will not notice a difference in his son?”

Mary looked at Dean and realized that Castiel had a point. Even if they could somehow explain away the events of the previous night, there was no way that he’d miss the changes in Dean. And it wouldn’t be fair for Dean to have to try and act like a little kid every time John was around. Mary wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to pull it off.

“Yeah, okay… I just… I never wanted John to know.”

“Never wanted me to know what?”

Everyone in the room, including baby Sam, turned to see John Winchester standing in the doorway.


	10. Insane Truths

Chapter Ten: Insane Truths 

John had woken with a start, images from the previous night pounding in his head as his heart followed the example in his chest. He threw back the covers and practically leaped from the bed. He saw his wife’s bloodstained nightgown lying on top of the hamper but paid it little attention as he rushed out of the room and into Sammy’s nursery. It was empty. John scanned the room but found nothing out of place. No dead body. Not even any blood on the floor from the man or Dean. It was as if nothing bad had ever happened in the house. But Mary’s nightgown and his own memories told a very different story.

John walked downstairs and he could hear voices coming from the dining room. As he drew closer, he could make out the voices as those of Dean, Mary, and the man from last night. What the hell was he still doing here? John didn’t like him. Sure, he’d somehow healed Dean but since that in of itself was impossible, it made him incredibly wary of the trench coat wearing man. Besides, the guy was calling himself an angel, so he was obviously either lying or was delusional. Add that to the fact that he’d somehow knocked John out, and the ex-marine was not a fan of the newcomer. And it was troubling that Dean seemed to know the stranger. Was the guy some kind of pedophile or something? If so, John would kill him.

As he reached the doorway, he heard Mary say that she didn’t want him to know something.

“Never wanted me to know what?” He asked. Everyone turned to stare at him. “And what the hell is he still doing here?” John pointed at the man who was standing close to Dean. And speaking of Dean, since when had his son worn his hair so short?

“Dad, it’s okay. Cas is fine. He’s an angel, remember?”

“Get away from my son. What are you, some sort of pervert?”

“No, I have already told you that I’m an angel.”

“Yeah, sure you are.” John growled out taking a step towards them.

“John, please. Castiel is here to help.” Mary walked to him and put up her hand to stop him from getting any closer to the man. 

“Mary, you can’t really believe that this man is an angel, can you?”

“Then you explain how he brought Dean back from the dead. Our son was dead, John. You saw it for yourself. And Castiel healed him and brought him back to life. So, if he’s not an angel, then how did he do it?”

And there it was. The question that John could not answer. “I don’t know but…”

“Please John, just listen. There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about and now you’re going to need to know. 

“What are you talking about?”

“If you give us a moment, we can tell you.” Dean commented.

John turned to him, remembering how strange his son had acted the previous night. He’d thought maybe it had been from shock, but the boy seemed calm enough now. Too calm for a four year old who’d been killed just hours ago. 

“What’s wrong with Dean? He’s not acting like himself.” Then he looked pointedly at the child. “And I don’t appreciate his tone.”

Dean smirked at him.

“That will be explained too.” Mary assured him. “Just let me talk and don’t interrupt please. First off, my parents didn’t die of heart attacks. I mean, the likelihood that they’d both die the same night of natural causes is… well, I’m surprised you believed that. But I guess you had no reason not to. But they were actually killed by a demon.”

John opened his mouth to tell her that there was no such thing, but then closed it again. He was going to let her finish her bizarre story before letting her know that she was crazy. Of course, he couldn’t deny that it had seemed odd that her parents had both died on the same night. The night that she’d seemed scared and begged him to take her away. And he’d had some kind of black out that night and had awoken to find that her dad had died just a few feet away and had blood all over his shirt. Mary said he’d landed on something sharp when the heart attack had occurred but wouldn’t let him get a closer look at the body. So, maybe there was a bit more to that story than what he’d been told.

 

“And yes, demons do exist. And so do ghosts, zombies, werewolves, and a bunch of other creatures that are considered merely myths or legends. I know this because my father hunted them. It was his life’s work and he raised me to know how to hunt too. But I didn’t want to do it anymore. It was too much and I just wanted a safe, nice life with you. That’s why I asked to run away with you. I wanted to get out. But apparently fate won’t let me. The man who killed Dean last night was the same demon. He was coming for Sammy and Dean tried to protect him. I got in the room too late to save Dean but I killed the demon with a very special gun that legend says can kill anything. Then Castiel brought Dean back to us.” There was a very awkward pause. “And I know this is a lot to take in but it’s all true.”

John tried to comprehend all that he’d just been told. It was ridiculous. Just completely nuts. But Mary was looking at him so seriously and with a look in her eyes just begging him to believe her. He almost wished that he could.

“No, that’s just crazy. And you shouldn’t be saying these things in front of Dean.”

“Dude, I know more about this crap than she does.” Dean muttered under his breath. 

“Dean Winchester, you watch your mouth!” John scolded.

“Learned it from you.” The boy responded with a shrug.

John turned to his wife to avoid completely losing his temper with the boy. “So then, what’s wrong with Dean?”

“Uh… that’s a little harder to explain.”

“Harder to explain that demons and angels?”

“Actually, yes.”

“I got this one, Mom.” Dean spoke up.

John approached the table and sat down opposite his son. “What is up with you, Dean?”

“I’m from the future. Actually, from an alternate future. And yeah, I know, you think that I’m nuts-o too, but hear me out. Mom was supposed to die last night. The demon came here hoping to infect Sammy with his blood and Mom was going to walk in on it and get killed. The demon would’ve burned our house down. You gave Sammy to me and told me to take him from the house. It was far too late for you to save Mom, and you fled too. The police ruled the fire and Mom’s death an accident but you knew better. You searched until you discovered the truth about the supernatural. And then you hunted. You tracked down every creature you could and made them pay for the death of your wife while you desperately searched for her killer. And you taught me to hunt too. By the age of seven I was an excellent marksman and knew more about the paranormal than I knew about reading, writing, and arithmetic. We traveled from one skeezy motel to the next and I watched out for Sammy and raised him while you ganked every piece of crap creature we could track down. And when Sam learned the truth, you pushed him into hunting too. And it all came to head when I was twenty-six and you finally came face to face with the demon. And when the dust settled, you were dead. Sammy and I, we kept on hunting. And a year later I killed that yellow eyed demon bastard. But not before his little super powered soldier killed Sam. And I sold my soul to bring him back.”

“Dean…” Mary started to say something, but Dean shot her a humorless smile that looked out of place on his childish face. 

“Hey, if I don’t tell him, Cas will.” 

“Your father will need to know just as much as your mom.” Castiel spoke up.

“See.” Dean rolled his eyes before continuing. “Anyway, a year later I was dragged to Hell and a while after that Cas here dragged my ass back out. But the apocalypse started and things went downhill. And then the world was ready to end, and everyone I ever knew who wasn’t an angel in a trench coat was dead, and I was dying.” Mary let out a gasp and John assumed that she hadn’t been told everything that Dean was saying now. “So, Cas offered to send me back here to prevent all of this from happening by killing Azazel before he got to Sammy or Mom. Except he didn’t say that I’d be in my four year old body.” The last line was said pointedly to Castiel.

“I did say that you’d have to grow up here.”

“Hey, I was bleeding to death. Excuse the hell out of me if I didn’t pick up on cryptic angel speak.”

“I was not trying to be cryptic, Dean.”

“Okay, enough!” John cut them off. He had the feeling that the two of them could continue back and forth for quite some time if they weren’t interrupted. 

Silence descended on the room as John thought over what he’d been told. It was crazy. But then again, so was the fact that his son had been killed and brought back to life the night before. And he certainly did sound more like an adult than a child… no. What the hell was wrong with him that he’d even consider this nonsense? But still, if he chose to not believe his wife and son, that meant that he’d have to explain this all some other way. He looked at Mary who was looking at him with a somewhat sad expression. And then he looked at Dean, who was looking at him semi-defiantly, as though challenging him to disagree. And John really wanted to do just that. And not just because the idea that supernatural creatures and angels and demons existed was completely insane but because he couldn’t believe that he’d do the things that Dean had said he did. Or would. The idea that he’d teach a seven year old to use guns and leave him to raise his baby brother made him sick. As did the idea of his first born son suffering through the things he’d claimed to have lived through. And Sammy… The baby was but six months old and John felt such love towards him that he never wanted him to know any kind of hardship. So, no. None of what Mary and Dean had said could possibly be true.

“They speak the truth.” Castiel informed him.

“What, you reading my mind?”

“No. But it is clear that you are in denial.”

“I know that this is a lot to take in.” Mary repeated in a soft, reassuring voice. “But you need to believe us.”

John felt himself shaking his head as his mind tried desperately to reject everything he’d been told. But part of him trusted Mary and couldn’t dismiss her out of hand. But still…

“Perhaps you just need some time to…” Castiel started to say.

“You are not an angel, nor do I welcome you into my house, so you can shut up!” John yelled. He was not sure what to think, do, or say. And, in times like this, he got frustrated. Often that frustration became anger. And if he had to shout at someone, the intruder in their house was a good person to take everything out on. 

“Don’t you talk to Cas like that!” Dean’s voice was low and dangerous and completely different than anything John had ever heard come from his son’s mouth. 

“Are you really going to talk back to me?” John’s voice was just as low and dangerous.

“You know what? For once in my life, I _am_ going to talk back to you, _sir_.”

John’s fists clenched. He would never hit the boy, but every muscle in his body was demanding him to punch something.

“Watch your tone, Dean.”

“Dad, I know this is hard to accept, but everything we said is true. I know you don’t wanna believe it and you’re pissed because all this crap is out of your control and you’re nothing if not a control freak, but don’t take it out on us. You’re a smart man, Dad, so think it over. And while you’re at it, chill out.”

John felt like the entire world had become a strange funhouse mirror version of reality. He couldn’t even form words to respond to Dean. But he was saved from it by a knock on the door. 

As he left the room, John heard Dean mutter “Well, that went well.”

He ignored the comment as he walked to the front door, unlocked it, and swung it open. A young woman, probably in her early twenties, stood there with a shy smile on her face. She was wearing a pair of black stretch pants, an oversized purple and black sweater, and a pair of running shoes. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a loose braid. 

“Can I help you?” John asked.

“Uh, that depends. Is this the Winchester home?”

“Yeah, why? We’re not interested in buying anything or changing religions if that’s what you’re here about.”

“Oh, no. I’m not here for that. I just have some business with your family.”

John felt warning bells start to go off in his head. But the woman was short and thin and couldn’t possibly pose a threat to him. “What kind of business?”

“Revenge.”

“What?”

“You see, my father was killed here last night. So now, you and your entire family will die.”

John was about to warn her that he’d call the police when he found himself thrown to the ground. Which was strange because he could’ve sworn that she hadn’t even laid a hand on him. John looked up as the woman walked into his house. She no longer seemed shy or harmless. And her eyes were pitch black.


	11. Confrontation

Chapter Eleven: Confrontation 

“Well, that went well.” Dean muttered.

He was about to go into the kitchen to put his plate in the sink when something occurred to him. His dad had left the room to answer the door. But who the hell was at their door? If he remembered correctly, they didn’t really get many visitors during the day. 

The small hunter jumped off of his chair and followed his father. He got into the living room just in time to see his dad get thrown to the floor. A woman stepped into the house and stood over Dean’s dad. Her eyes were black.

“Get away from him, you black-eyed bitch!” Dean yelled. He did so as much to get her attention as to warn his mom and Cas as to what was going on.

She turned to face him. “Tough words, little man. You going to come and make me?” 

“Don’t tempt me.” Dean stood his ground a few feet away from her and tried to stare her down. He figured that it would’ve worked a lot better if he wasn’t four years old. Speaking of which, his kiddy emotions tried to make him panic, but he swallowed it back. He was Dean Winchester and he did not back down from demons.

The demon chick looked at him curiously for a moment. “There’s something… wrong about you.”

“Me? Wow. You do realize that you are the very definition of wrong, right?”

“You know what else is wrong? Your family killed my father last night. And now I get to decorate this house with your entrails.”

“Your father?” Dean took a closer look at her. The way she carried herself and the expression on her face. “Meg?”

“Who the hell is Meg?”

Dean recalled that Meg Masters was the name of the girl the demon had possessed and he’d never bothered to learn its real name. Oh well. “Your new name.”

“Get out of our house.” 

Dean turned to see his mom walk into the room. She held a kitchen knife in one hand and a container of salt in the other. Cas stood in the doorway behind her.

“Ah, Mary Campbell. Ex-hunter. Still mourning the fact that my daddy killed your parents?”

“Well, I was. Until I killed your daddy last night.” 

Meg practically snarled at the other woman as she waved her hand. Dean found himself flung onto the stairs and out of her way as the demon bitch stalked towards his mom. And from his new vantage point, the boy saw a black-eyed man approaching their front door. The young hunter scrambled to his feet and looked over at his dad, who was just getting up. Dean knew that his father was unprepared for this fight, but this was the way it was going to have to go down.

“Dad! Another one’s coming!” He yelled and then took off up the stairs. He really missed his long legs that would’ve taken him up two steps at a time. Dean hoped that he’d make it back downstairs to find that Cas had smote the crap out of the demons but just in case that didn’t happen, his family was going to need weapons.

Dean ran into his room and found that the duffle bag was not on the floor where he’d left it. He looked around frantically, just beginning to panic, and then saw the bag under his bed. Dropping to his knees, the boy pulled the duffle out and unzipped it. He snatched up the holy water and the demon killing knife. Shoving the bottle into his pocket, he left his room and went into his parents’ bedroom. His mom hadn’t returned the Colt to him the night before, so he figured he’d find it in here. A quick look into her nightstand revealed that he was correct. Dean grabbed it and rushed off to join the fight downstairs. He could hear the sounds of struggles and voices, although he couldn’t make out what was being said. He prayed that his family was winning.

When Dean reached the bottom of the stairs, he quickly took in what was happening. Castiel was still standing in the doorway, and it dawned on him that the angel was protecting Sammy. Why he wasn’t smiting them, Dean didn’t know, but he trusted that Cas had a good reason. Dean’s mom was engaged in hand to hand with Meg, and the demon’s clothes were covered with salt. The male demon had Dean’s dad pinned to the wall, but Dean was pleased to see that the man’s face was bloodied and bruised. At least John Winchester had gotten in a few good punches before the demon had used its powers to get the upper hand. 

Dean couldn’t get the Colt to anyone without running the risk of it falling into demon hands, so he shoved it into the waistband of his pants and got a grip on the hilt of the demon killing knife. He knew that he’d never have the strength to push it into the demon’s heart (hell, he couldn’t even reach high enough to try) but with enough momentum, he could still do some damage. The boy held the blade out in front of himself and ran. He plowed full force into the possessed man and the knife plunged into his thigh. He screamed as lightning seemed to jump from the wound. Dean tried to pull it out, but it was stuck.

“Oh, crap.”

The demon backhanded him and his tiny body went flying. The demon stalked towards him, limping from the knife still embedded in his leg. Dean saw his dad coming up behind the possessed man. The demon had obviously been distracted into releasing his hold on the man. Without hesitation, Dean pulled out the Colt and slid it across the floor to his father. He watched his dad pick it up before turning his attention to the demon. The possessed man turned to see what Dean had given to his father and got shot in the head. His body fell to the ground and Dean grinned at his dad. But instead of a smile in response, the man looked at Dean as though he were some evil creature himself. 

“No!” Meg’s cry of distress tore Dean’s gaze away from his dad. The boy turned to see the possessed woman staring in horror at the dead demon. “That was my brother!”

“Guess your family just got even smaller.” Dean commented.

“Here, you can join them.” He heard his father say.

But before he could pull the trigger, the woman opened her mouth and black smoke came pouring out. Dean watched as the demon flew up and then out of the house. The woman collapsed onto the ground. All was silent for a moment.

“Nice shooting, Dad.” Dean commented as he got to his feet.

“What the hell was that?” 

“Demons.”

His dad stared at him. Dean stepped towards him and the man backed away. 

“Don’t come any closer.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because maybe you’re one of those things too.”

“Really? That’s your theory?”

“Well, you’re certainly not my son.”

“Oh, great. This again.” Dean mumbled. “Look, we already told you why I’m acting a little different.”

“No. Dean doesn’t act like you or talk like you. And he doesn’t stab people or carry around guns. You are nothing like him and he would never grow up to be like you.” The words were spat out with disgust. Dean was used to being a disappointment to his dad, but enough was enough.

“Don’t you dare!” Dean yelled. “Don’t you judge me and say that crap when you’re the reason I grew up like this.”

“I would not raise my children the way you claim.”

“Newsflash, Dad; you did. So you deal with it because we got bigger things going on than your inability to grasp the truth.”

“Dean is right.” Cas spoke up. “We need to protect this house quickly in case there are any more attacks on your family.”

John turned on him. “Well, aren’t you supposed to be an all-powerful angel? Why don’t you just take care of them?”

“I never claimed to be all-powerful.” Cas pointed out.

“Seriously though, Cas. Why didn’t you smite the hell out of them?” Dean asked.

“The other angels will try to stop me if they realize what I’ve done. I am using most of my energy to hide my presence from them. Every time I use my powers, I run the risk of revealing myself to them.”

“But… you brought me back and healed me last night.”

“That was an acceptable risk.”

Dean grinned. “Aw, thanks Cas. Never knew you cared.”

The angel tilted his head to the side. “I believe I’ve made it clear on several occasions that I consider you a friend.”

“Right.” Dean nodded, still smiling. 

“I can still teleport without causing too much noise, so I’ll take care of the woman who was possessed and the dead body.”

“Just take the knife out first. Don’t wanna loose that.” 

“This is insane.” Dean’s dad muttered, but it lacked any kind of conviction. 

“It really is.” Mary agreed. “But it’s real and it’s happening. And Castiel is right. We need to protect the house.”

“How?”

“Salt.” Dean’s mom answered. “We need to create salt lines near the doors and windows.”

“That’s not gonna be enough.” Dean cut in. “Demons find all sorts of ways to mess up the salt.” He thought for a moment. “We can mix the salt into the paint and repaint the window sills and doorways. And we’ll need to draw devil’s traps too.”

His mom looked at him curiously. “What are devil’s traps?”

“Uh, the Key of Solomon. It’s this symbol that once a demon steps into, they can’t get out. Oh, and we’ll need to get some charms to protect ourselves from being possessed.”

Both of his parents were staring at him. 

Dean shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of experience with these black-eyed sons of bitches.”

The boy walked past the others into the dining room where Sammy was still sitting in his high chair, now happily smearing his baby cereal all over the feeding tray. Dean hopped into the chair next to him.

“Hey, Sammy. That good?”

The baby waved his little hands in the air and screeched.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Why don’t we get you cleaned up, huh? Mom makes the best bubble baths.”

Dean went to take Sammy out of his chair when his mother came over and picked up the infant.

“I’ve got him, Dean. Why don’t you get some paper and draw out the devil’s trap so we can copy them around the house?”

“Okay.” Dean reluctantly agreed. Having help caring for his baby brother was something that was going to take some getting used to. 

“What can I do?” 

Dean turned to see his dad standing in the doorway, looking unsure of himself. The boy knew that his father was having a hard time coping with all of this and was looking for something to do. The man hated inaction. 

“Uh, we need to take stock of what we have and what we need. Gather up all the paint and salt we have. We’ll probably have to go to a store and pick stuff up. We also need to find an air gun with low kick back that can be converted into a weapon that I can use.”

“You’re not getting a gun.”

“You gave me my first gun when I was five, Dad. It was a converted air gun and we loaded it with anything we needed to fight whatever creature you were currently hunting. By the time I was eight, I was using a regular rifle and shotgun. I know more about weapons than anyone else in this house and if you want us to live, I need to be able to fight.”

There was silence for a moment. His dad looked like he was going to start another argument, and boy had Dean had enough of them already, but then he just shook his head.

“I’ll go see what supplies we have.” And then the oldest Winchester walked off.

“This is hard on him, Dean. Maybe you can try toning it down a bit?” His mom suggested.

“This isn’t easy on any of us, but we can’t afford to ‘tone it down’ right now, Mom.”

“I know. Just… remember that he’s not the same man who raised you.”

“And I’m not the same kid that he’s been raising.”

“Then I guess we all need to adjust to each other.”

“Won’t that be fun?” Dean muttered sarcastically. Then he started up the stairs towards his bedroom. He needed to draw the symbol out so that they could get started with protecting the house. He had no illusions that Meg would just leave them alone. And she was just out for revenge. The real fun would begin when the ones who didn’t want their apocalyptic plans to change started showing up. Of course, that was only if the Winchesters didn’t all kill each other first. Not for the first time, Dean wondered what the hell Cas had gotten them all into.


	12. Protection

Chapter Twelve: Protection 

Mary saw Dean flinch as the front door slammed behind John. Her husband had come back from taking stock of their supplies and thrown a notebook down onto the dining room table. Dean had looked over the list and then wrote down what they’d need and in what quantity. The boy had then told them that it would be best if they got the stuff as soon as possible. John had snatched up the list and stomped to the door. Dean had followed, offering to go with his father to help out but John had completely ignored the boy and left, slamming the door behind him. Mary desperately hoped that he’d be back and wasn’t taking off for a few days again.

Mary sighed and placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Come on, Dean. We need to plan out where we want to draw those devil’s traps.”

Dean turned towards her and she saw a brief glimpse of hurt on his face before he covered it up with a smile. “’Kay. We should start at this door. Maybe draw one under the rug. It’s best if the demons don’t see it. Oh, and it’ll also be best not to freak out any guests.”

Mary wasn’t sure how to respond. All her mothering instincts were screaming at her to hold him tight and tell him that he was still loved, just like he always did for her when John and her would fight. But she was getting the feeling that Dean was not used to being comforted and would reject her attempts. And she certainly didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

“Okay. Do you want to draw it or should I?”

“I’ll do the first one and you can do the next.” He offered.

“A perfectly normal mother/son arts and crafts project, right?” She joked.

Dean grinned. “Yeah. Tomorrow we can make protection symbols using macaroni and Elmer’s glue.”

Mary laughed and ruffled his spiky hair. She was glad to have some time alone with him. Sammy was sleeping and Castiel had left to go find the anti-possession charms they’d need. And now that John had stormed out of the house, Mary was left with just her son. She missed the way that he’d been just the day before, but couldn’t deny that she loved him just the same. Despite what she’d said the night before, he was still her Dean. Very different, but still sweet and caring. If only she could get John to see it that way. 

Dean helped move the rug out of the way and then grabbed the small paintbrush that had come with one of his water-color books. He dipped it into the black oil-based paint and carefully began creating the trap. The boy made it as wide as the door, working slowly and meticulously. When he was finished, he stood up and grinned.

“Done.” 

“Nice. We can put the rug back in a couple of hours, when it’s dry. But for the windows, I think we’re going to have to get creative on how to hide them.”

“We can put small rugs or tables or desks over them. Won’t be a problem.”

“Just what I was thinking.” 

“I know. You were a hunter, Mom. Even if you’ve never made a devil’s trap before, I’m sure you’ve had to hide symbols and other stuff many times.”

“True.” She admitted. “And you’d know all about my family since you were there ten years ago.”

Dean looked at her, surprised.

“How’d you know?” 

“I saw a picture of the older version of you in your room. Imagine my surprise when I recognized you.”

“Oh. Yeah. I tried to stop the demon from killing your parents but…”

“It’s okay, Dean. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s tone made it clear that he obviously didn’t agree. “Anyway, it’s almost lunch time, so why don’t we take a break.”

“Sure.” Mary reluctantly dropped the subject.

A few minutes later, the two of them sat at the table eating sandwiches. Mary had cut the crust off of Dean’s and was rewarded by warm smile. She’d poured him a glass of chocolate milk and had promised him some pie for desert. It seemed his sweet tooth hadn’t changed at all.

“Dean, I have a question.”

“Shoot.” Dean spoke around a mouthful of bread and meat. Apparently his manners hadn’t survived him growing up.

“What was the demon doing here? You said he wanted to infect Sammy with his blood. Why? What does that mean?”

Dean squirmed uncomfortably. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters to me.”

“Yeah well, it shouldn’t. It’s never gonna happen now.”

“Dean, please. I need to know.”

The boy hesitated a moment longer and then, with a sigh of resignation, shrugged. “Azazel was going to bleed into Sammy’s mouth. He’s done this with other kids too.”

Mary felt sick. “But why?”

“All the kids that he infected grew up to develop powers. Some were telekinetic, some had the power of persuasion, others were super strong. Sam started off with prophetic dreams.”

“Started off?”

“It… got out of control in later years. But it was also useful to the demons and angels because it meant that Sam could do stuff they needed to kickoff the apocalypse.”

“I don’t understand. Sam started the apocalypse?”

“It was a lot of different things. And I should’ve stopped it all long before it started. But, as I said, it doesn’t matter now. Thing’s are gonna be different this time around.”

Every time that Mary learned more about what the future could’ve been, she wished that she could forget it. But how was that fair? Why should she live in blissful ignorance when her son had had to actually live through all of that and carry those memories forever? Especially when it was her deal ten years ago that had started everything. 

“I’m so sorry, Dean. The thing’s you’ve been through…”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Once again, Mary found herself moving on to another topic for her son’s sake.

“So, when do you think Castiel will be back?”

“Now.” Dean replied, looking behind her.

Mary spun around and nearly jumped out of her skin. The angel was less than a foot behind her. 

“Oh my God! Next time, can you please not appear so close to me?”

“Sorry. It was not my intention to startle you.”

“Cas is still trying to figure out the concept of personal space.” Dean looked amused.

“It’s fine.” Mary took a deep breath. “Did you manage to get them?”

“I would not have returned without them.” Castiel replied. He reached into his pocket and retracted his closed fist. The angel turned his hand over and opened it. There were three small charms in his palm. “Take one for yourselves and the other is for Sam.” 

“Do you really think they’ll possess a six month old?” Dean questioned.

“It’s not likely, no. But he will have it for when he grows.”

Mary picked one up. “Wait. There’s only three. What about John?”

“I stopped by the store he was in and gave it to him.”

“You what!” Dean exclaimed. “Please tell me that you didn’t just suddenly appear behind him too.”

Castiel looked uncomfortable. “There was no one around him to see my entrance.” He defended himself.

“Oh, John must’ve loved that.” Mary commented.

“No, he didn’t. He attempted to punch me.”

Dean put a hand to his mouth as he began to giggle. Mary smiled and shook her head.

“Oh, one more thing.” Castiel reached over and put his hand on Dean’s chest. The boy’s eyes widened and he let out a scream.

“Hey, stop!” Mary ordered, wondering why the angel was hurting her son. She grabbed his arm and tried to pull it away, but found she couldn’t move it an inch. But after a few more seconds, he let go.

“Dude! What the hell was that?!” Dean cried out.

“I apologize, but it was necessary.”

“Did you do that whole symbols on the ribs thing? ‘Cause it won’t help if the angel and demons already know where we live.”

“It is not the same symbol. It will not hide you, but the condition of your soul.”

“What does that mean?” Mary asked.

“Dean has been through Hell. His soul carries the scars from that and other hardships in his life. Angels can see this. If they show up to check on your family, they will recognize that there is something wrong with Dean. With the symbols now on his ribs, the others will only see the soul of a regular four year old child.”

“The others? You still see his real soul?”

“Yes. I know Dean’s soul too well for the camouflage to work on me.”

“You can see my soul just by looking at me?” Dean made a face. “That’s creepy.”

Mary ignored Dean’s comment. “But what about you? Don’t you think they’ll be curious about you being here?”

“Yes. But I have already camouflaged myself as well. If they don’t look too hard, I will appear to be nothing more than an ordinary human.”

“If they don’t look too hard?”

“They would need to know what to look for to see it. Since this body is supposed to be much younger and they know that I am in Heaven, it is unlikely that they will see my true self.”

Mary nodded. Castiel seemed to have thought a lot about how to protect them all from angels. She understood from earlier conversations that not all angels had their best interests in mind, but it was still weird to think of beings from Heaven as enemies. She was also a little saddened by Castiel’s comment about her son’s soul being damaged. She wished that there was something she could do to help heal him. Maybe she’d have to talk with Castiel later, when Dean wasn’t around.

“Awesome.” Dean stated. “The angels will just think that we have an annoying houseguest who won’t leave.”

“Speaking of which, we have a guestroom down the hall. I’ll get the bed ready for you so you’ll have a place to stay.” Mary offered.

“That’s not necessary. I don’t sleep.”

“But you’ll need somewhere to spend the nights if you plan on staying nearby to protect us.”

“I will stay in Dean’s room with him.”

“Hell no, you won’t!” Dean exclaimed. “That’s just… no way, Cas.”

“I was in your room last night.”

“Extenuating circumstances. But it’s not gonna be an every night thing. I need my space, and you need yours.”

Castiel turned to face Mary again. “The guestroom would be nice, thank you.”

“I’ll get it ready after we finish with the devil’s traps.”

“I will assist you both.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
… 

Dean buttoned up his pajama shirt as he kicked his dirty clothes into the corner of his room. He was beyond exhausted. After the events on the previous night, not sleeping, and the busy day he’d had, the boy was ready to pass out. But still, memories of the nightmares he’d been plagued with last time he’d slept were enough to keep him from going to bed until well after nine o’clock. Well, that and the fact that he was still waiting for his dad to come home.

John Winchester hadn’t arrived back at the house or even called since stomping out the door at noon. Cas insisted that the man was fine, but Dean wondered where the hell he could be. More than likely in a bar getting plastered. Dean didn’t blame his dad for having a hard time with all of this, but he was more than tired of the man running out on his family constantly. It had happened when he was just a kid (the first time around) every time Mary and him would fight and he continued the trend as Dean grew up. If he wanted to keep giving Dean the silent treatment for the rest of his life, so be it. But Mary and Sammy needed him and if Dean had to further ruin his relationship with the man by telling him to cut this crap, then he would. But first, his dad needed to get his ass back home. 

But Dean couldn’t force his little body to stay up any longer. He’d just have to save the arguing for another day.

The small, tired hunter climbed into bed and wiggled under the covers. The house was protected, he and Cas were hidden, and he wore the anti-possession charm around his neck with the amulet that Sam had given him that one Christmas morning that would now never happen. Dean was as safe as he could be with Heaven and Hell both against him. So, with a bit of reluctance, the boy closed his eyes to face the one thing he had no protection from. His own mind.


	13. Coping

Chapter Thirteen: Coping 

John Winchester knew that he was being an ass. He had a wife and a baby back home waiting for him and here he sat in some skuzzy bar drinking his sixth (seventh… eighth?) beer and crunching on slightly stale peanuts. He’d been driving to clear his head when he’d seen the place and decided that it couldn’t hurt to stop. But now it was after dark and he still couldn’t bring himself to go home. John knew that Mary was probably worried about him and he was going to miss tucking in Sammy but after all that had gone on in that house in less than twenty-four hours, he just didn’t want to step through the door yet. Besides, Dean was in that house.

John still hadn’t figured out what exactly he was feeling about Dean. Sometimes he wanted to hold onto the child and never let go after seeing the boy dead the previous night. But mostly he was torn between wanting to smack the bossy, foul-mouthed kid’s face and wanting to hold a cross up to the boy and back away from him. And then there was the fact that Dean was insisting he was raised to be the way he was by John himself. But that just had to be a lie. Or possibly a delusion. Yeah, that made sense. Maybe all the stress of what had happened to him in the nursery caused the boy to lose his mind. Pretending that he was older and raised to fight monsters was probably his way of dealing with being attacked by a real monster. It was his way of coping. Maybe all Dean needed was therapy. 

But the thing John couldn’t explain away was the demons. He’d seen their black eyes, felt their powers, and then witnessed the black smoke leave the woman’s body. So, demons were real. Which meant that there was a chance that the trench coat man was who he claimed to be, because if evil beings existed then why not holy ones too. So, demons and angels had both been to his house. Another reason to not want to go home right now.

Then there was Mary. She’d admitted to lying about her past and her parents to try and keep the supernatural a secret from him. He wanted to be mad at her but truthfully he wished that she’d been successful at hiding this particular truth from him. But, on the other hand, had he known, then maybe he could’ve protected his family. The thought that Mary was supposed to have died that night killed him. Of course, that prediction had come from Dean, who was quite possibly semi-insane. Still, John knew that he should be home with her. Besides the lying, Mary had done nothing wrong and it wasn’t fair to her or innocent little baby Sam if he didn’t make his way home soon. 

“Hard day?”

John turned to see a man sit down next to him

“Like you wouldn’t imagine.”

“Work? Or woman troubles?”

“Neither. Just… I guess it’s mostly just issues with my kid.”

“You don’t say? I don’t have kids myself, but I do work with them.”

“You a teacher?” John asked, wishing the guy would shut up and leave him alone, yet relishing a normal conversation after all the bizarre ones he’d taken part in that day.

“Well, not really. I run a sort of a daycare in the area. I deal with a lot of children. Mostly traumatized ones. I’m a bit of a specialist.”

This got John’s attention. He really looked at the man for the first time. The guy was in his forties or so, thinning hair to go with a thin face. He was dressed in suit pants and a button up shirt that had what looked like dried paint on it. The man smiled at him.

“You ever deal with a four year old that almost died and is now quite possibly suffering from delusions?” John questioned, half-sarcastically.

“Oh children of all ages can experience psychological symptoms due to trauma. This your kid you’re talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, being around other children who’ve suffered as well can only help. And I have quite a success rate with them.” The man reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to John. “Why don’t you think about it and give me a call. Perhaps I can help.”

John wasn’t sure if anything would help his son, but maybe he’d talk it over with Mary. They’d discussed sending Dean to a preschool or daycare so he’d get used to a classroom type of environment before starting kindergarten the next year but all of the ones in the area had filled up before they’d reached a decision. Maybe this could help Dean.

“Thanks, I’ll think about it…” He looked at the card to see the man’s name. “Alastair? That’s an unusual name.”

“Family name.”

“Well, thanks.” John repeated. He’d mention it to Mary when he got home. And he knew he should be headed there soon. He’d been gone since around noontime when he’d left to…

Oh crap! He’d forgotten about the supplies that were in the car. He needed to get them back to the house to protect his family. 

“Sorry, but I have to run. Maybe I’ll give you a call.”

“I hope to see you again. And meet your kid.” Alastair replied.

John hurried out the door and practically ran to his car.

When he pulled up in front of the house, John checked his watch. It was almost ten pm. Damn. But everything seemed quiet and all the lights were off. He figured everyone had probably gone to bed. 

After entering, John went into the kitchen and found a plate of food that had been left on the counter. He considered warming it up and eating, but his stomach was filled with alcohol and he found that he didn’t have much of an apatite. So instead, he tossed the plate into the refrigerator. He almost went to sit in his chair and watch the television, but memories of the previous night flooded his head and he decided to go straight to bed. 

When he got upstairs, John peeked into Sammy’s nursery. The baby was fast asleep in his crib. The father smiled at the sight. Despite what had happened the previous night and this morning, his family was safe for the moment.

He left the nursery and tiptoed into Dean’s bedroom. The boy was buried under his blankets, tossing a bit in his sleep. John watched him for a few minutes. He felt a little bad about how he’d treated him earlier. He should’ve realized that the attitude and wild stories were Dean’s way of dealing with being killed by a demon. John decided he’d do whatever was needed to help his son through this. 

Just as he was about to leave, the boy began to thrash violently. Dean was making a choked moaning noise and, as the man stepped closer to him, rolled right out of the bed. John ran forwards, certain that the fall would’ve woken his son. But as he knelt down next to the child, he saw that Dean was still asleep. The boy’s eyes were rolling like crazy under his closed lids and then his small back arched off the floor as he let out a scream. The tiny body shook as though in a seizure and the scream died down to a pitiful sounding wail.

“Dean! Dean, wake up buddy. It’s just a nightmare. Come on, wake up, son.”

John wasn’t sure whether or not to touch Dean as the boy continued to tremble and moan. The light flashed on as Mary rushed into the room and Castiel suddenly appeared next to John. 

“He’s having a nightmare and won’t wake up.” John told his wife. She had much more experience comforting the children than he did.

Mary went to pull Dean into her lap, but then he was hit with another seizure. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at Castiel.

“What’s wrong with him? What do we do?”

The man (angel?) reached down and placed two fingers on the child’s forehead. Nothing seemed to happen. 

“He is trapped, lost in his memories.”

“What does that mean?” John asked.

“It means I’ll have to retrieve him.” Castiel placed his entire hand on Dean’s head and closed his eyes.

John looked to Mary and saw the same fear and helplessness that he was feeling reflected in her eyes. His son was suffering and there wasn’t a damn thing that he could do about it.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
… 

Dean arched his back off of the table he was strapped to as the blade sliced into his flesh. He let out another scream of agony. He’d tried at first to be silent and not let the demon know how much pain he was in but he was far past the point of trying to keep up a brave front. Most of the skin had been cut and peeled off of his body and his blood was currently painting the floor. There was no denying that he was suffering.

His voice failed him after a moment though, and he let out a pitiful sounding moan. The blade carved deeper in and Dean felt the muscles in his left leg being torn out. He tried to scream again but his voice was hoarse and his cry came out weak and about as pathetic as himself. 

“Oh, Dean, is this hurting you? I’m so sorry.”

Dean tried to ignore the demon’s voice.

“But then, you’re used to pain, aren’t you? Been suffering for quite a while now. But that’s nothing compared to what you caused before coming here, is it? You dragged your brother into a life he never wanted and it killed his girlfriend and eventually him as well. Oh and then there’s your father. Got him killed too, didn’t you? And he was here for a loooong time.”

Dean tried not to let its words get to him. But really, did he deserve this pain? Had he been a burden to his family? The agony of having the muscles stripped off of his right leg interrupted his thoughts.

“Ahhhh!” He managed a strangled cry as tears ran down his face.

“Leave him alone.”

Dean heard a calm voice order. It was a voice he knew. It was Castiel’s voice. Cas had freed him from Hell, so why was he back? 

Then the pain stopped. Dean gasped and sat up on the table. The demon was gone and his body was once again whole. The hunter looked over to see his angel friend standing in the room, watching him sadly.

“Cas?” Dean had his voice back as well. “What’s going on?”

“You are dreaming. Neither myself nor your parents could wake you.”

“My parents?” Then Dean remembered. He looked down at his adult body, so different from the child-sized one he was in outside of his dreams. “So what? You popped into my dreams to see what’s going on in my screwed up head?”

“We were worried. You were screaming and having seizures.”

“Oh. Yeah well, Hell sucks.” 

“That’s obvious.”

They sat in silence for a moment. “Well, you gonna help me wake up?”

“I can, but I won’t. Your body requires sleep.”

“Sleep’s overrated.”

There was more silence. Then Cas spoke.

“I should let your parents know that you are okay.”

“No!” Dean practically shouted. Then he tried to calm himself back down. “I mean, if you go, the dream will start up again, won’t it?”

“It is likely.”

“Awesome.”

“I can stay.”

“Whatever.” Dean tried to act cool, but he was certain that the immense relief he was feeling was written all over his face.

“We’ll leave your dream in the morning and then try to find a solution to your nightmares.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean agreed. He knew that he should tell Cas to go let his parents know what was going on after all, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Besides, when his screams and seizures calmed down, they would figure out that everything was alright. “So, what do we do for fun in here? I’m bored just sitting on a torturer’s table.”

“It’s your dream. What do you do for fun in your dreams?”

“Dude, I am so not sharing that with you.” Dean closed his eyes and concentrated hard. When he opened them, he and Cas were in a bar. It was empty except for them. Dean walked over to the back of the room, snatching a bottle of beer off of the bar on the way and grabbed a pool cue off the wall. He tossed it to the angel, who caught it midair. “So, wanna learn to play?”


	14. Take a Sad Song and Make it Better

Chapter Fourteen: Take a Sad Song and Make it Better

Mary was relieved when Dean stopped moaning and shaking. After a few minutes with no sign of any further seizures, she allowed herself to relax. Her son hadn’t yet woken, but obviously whatever Castiel was doing was working. With that crisis over, she realized that she could hear Sammy crying in his nursery. But before she could react, John was walking out of the room.

“I’ll get Sammy.”

Mary nodded, although she was sure he wouldn’t turn to see her. She’d heard her husband come in the house shortly before Dean had begun screaming but had decided to just lie in bed and pretend to sleep. She didn’t want to talk with him that night. She was far too upset and the last conversation they’d had when they were both emotional had led to John moving out of the house for a few days. This was not the time for infighting. They needed to both be calm and rational so that they could get their family through this. So pretending to sleep had seemed like the best decision. Well, it had until Dean had had his nightmare. 

Now Mary sat watching as a small smile appeared on her son’s face. She smiled in return. She definitely owed Castiel. But it didn’t look like he’d be waking Dean up any time soon and Mary guessed that the floor couldn’t be too comfortable. She wanted to pick Dean up and tuck him back into bed, however she wasn’t certain that that was such a good idea. The angel hadn’t moved an inch, still crouched down with his palm on the boy’s forehead, and Mary didn’t know if breaking that contact would adversely affect the child. So, instead, she slipped a pillow under his head, making sure not to jar the angel’s hand. After covering Dean up with his comforter, Mary sat next to him and stroked his hair, still managing to avoid accidentally bumping Castiel. Quietly, she began to sing to her little boy.

“Hey Jude, don't make it bad.  
Take a sad song and make it better.  
Remember to let her into your heart,   
Then you can start to make it better.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid.  
You were made to go out and get her.  
The minute you let her under your skin,   
Then you begin to make it better.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,   
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.  
For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool  
By making his world a little colder.”

“What are you doing?”

Mary stopped singing and turned to see John standing in the doorway.

“Singing to Dean.”

“Why? He seems to be sleeping well. I think his nightmares are over for tonight.”

“Still… I don’t want to leave him. He was having seizures, John.”

“We’ll take him to the hospital tomorrow.”

“And tell them what? That our son is having nightmares because of memories of spending years in Hell? Or maybe ask them to check him over to make sure there’s no damage from being killed by a yellow-eyed demon?” Mary wasn’t sure if it was possible to wake Dean up at this point, but she kept her voice low just in case. 

“Mary, Dean’s never been to Hell. That’s a story he’s making up. Please don’t encourage his delusions.”

“Delusions?”

“Yeah. I was thinking about it and it makes sense. He’s only four years old, Mary. Making up these stories is the only way that he can cope with what happened to him.”

Mary stared at her husband for a moment before responding. “Do me a favor. Next time you decide to come up with a theory about our son, don’t do it when you’re drunk.”

John glared at her. “So you think that Dean’s story makes more sense?”

“Well, since his ‘story’ has been backed up by an angel and the events of the last twenty-four hours, I’d have to say yes.” Mary tried to reign in her emotions and speak calmly. “John, Dean woke me last night and told me what was going to happen. He gave me the weapon that worked on demons. Everything he’s said so far has been the truth. And Castiel has supported Dean’s story to the letter. He’s actually the one that told me that Dean had to spend time in Hell.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Then John shook his head. “No. It just makes no sense.”

Mary smiled. “Trust me, time travel existing is a shock for me too. As is meeting an angel. Apparently the Campbell family didn’t know as much about the universe as they thought they did.” 

John just shook his head again, but the slight loss of color in his face was an indication that his mental resistance to the truth was crumbling. “We’ll talk about all this more in the morning. We need sleep.”

Mary looked down at Dean who was still smiling contently. “Okay. You’re right.”

She leaned over and kissed her son’s head. Then she stood and followed John out of the room, switching off the light as she went.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean opened his eyes and blinked rapidly against the sunlight streaming through the window and warming his room. He felt a hand resting gently on his forehead and was tempted to pull the soft blanket up over his eyes and just go back to sleep. But then the hand was removed and a voice greeted him.

“Good morning, Dean.”

The boy sat up and spun around to see Castiel sitting on the floor next to him.

“Cas? What’s going on?”

“You don’t remember your nightmare?”

“Can’t forget it, Cas. Oh, and by the way… you still need practice at the pool tables. What I meant was, why am I sleeping on the floor with you touching me?”

“You fell out of bed during your nightmare and were experiencing seizures. While I can enter dreams without physical contact, touching your forehead helped me find you quicker and assured that I would remain with you.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” Dean kicked the covers off and stood up. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer. He took out a pair of jeans and then closed it. The next one up held his shirts. Dean rummaged through them, looking for one that wasn’t too dorky. Finally, he decided on a dark blue shirt with a fire fighter symbol on the left breast. He was about to go get his desk chair so that he could reach the top drawer, when Cas opened it and handed him a pair of socks and some underwear. Dean wasn’t sure whether to thank him or scold him for touching his briefs. He settled for ignoring the whole issue. 

Clutching the clothing to his scrawny chest, Dean walked out of his room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. Once there, he walked over to the bathtub.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Dean turned to face the angel. “Get my mom.” At Castiel’s look, Dean continued. “No offense, Cas. But if someone in this house is gonna have to see me naked, it’s not gonna be you. And as my mom so eloquently pointed out, it’s nothin’ she hasn’t seen before.”

Cas nodded and disappeared. Once he was alone, Dean began to undress. His pajamas were damp and uncomfortable and he couldn’t wait to get clean. Once he had stripped, the small hunter stood awkwardly waiting for his mom to arrive. He knew that her help was necessary and that she was used to helping her son bathe, but it was still uncomfortable for him. He spread a towel out in front of the tub and grabbed another. He was getting ready to put it down where he could easily get to it after his bath when the bathroom door opened.

“Sorry to bug you, Mom. But I need some help with…” Dean’s voice died as he turned to face the door. His dad was standing there looking down at him. Dean held the towel in front of himself, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Dude! What the hell? Does everyone in this house have to drop in on me while I’m naked?”

A confused expression passed over his father’s features. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. What are you doing here?”

“Castiel said you needed help.”

“Uh, yeah. I asked him to send _Mom_ up here.”

“I volunteered instead.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We need to talk.”

“And we have to do it while I’m in the bathroom?”

His dad chuckled as he walked past him and turned on the water. “Apparently we do.” 

As the tub was filling, Dean’s father poured in some Mr. Bubble and then turned to face the boy. Dean had tied the towel around his waist when his dad’s back had been to him, and now stood waiting for whatever was to come. And he wasn’t sure what that whatever was going to be. Would his dad yell at him again? Accuse him of lying? Scream that Dean was no son of his? Insist that the boy leave the house and never return? Dean felt his childish emotions bubbling inside of him, making him want to scream, cry, and run away all at the same time. How the hell had he ever survived childhood the first time around?

“I did some thinking last night. I was trying to figure out your… unusual behavior. What I came up with was a reasonable explanation centered around the fact that you died two nights ago and I have no clue how a child could deal with something like that. So I realized that there was a good chance that your attitude and wild claims could be due to trauma.”

Dean gave his father a look. “You know, Dad… you shouldn’t come up with theories about me when you’re drunk.”

He expected his dad to get pissed at the comment, but instead the man chuckled again. “So I’ve been told. But truthfully, it’s a good theory. Or it would be if the rest of the world wasn’t going insane. Because, as your mother pointed out, you aren’t just acting differently. You know things that you shouldn’t. And you have an angel friend who insists that you’re telling the truth. But I don’t give a crap what he says. I want to hear it from you.”

“But I already told you…”

“Tell me again, Dean. Look into my eyes and tell me who you are.”

Dean’s father knelt down in front of him and took the boy’s face in his hands, tilting it up so that their eyes met. The man almost seemed to shiver at what he saw there. 

“I’m Dean Winchester. Your son. I lost my mom when I was four and was raised to hunt the supernatural. My job is to take care of Sammy. I’ve lost everyone that I have ever cared about, occasionally getting them back only to lose them again. I’ve been to Hell and faced the apocalypse. And now I’m here, in my four year old body but with thirty more years of experiences in my head.”

The two continued to stare into each other’s eyes for another moment. Dean tried to ready himself for the coming rejection, wondering why it always hurt. He should be used to it by now. His father’s hands slid away from his face. One was placed between his shoulder blades while the other grasped the back of his head. Then Dean found himself pulled into his dad’s arms. He was held tightly against the man’s chest as a hand stroked through his short hair. And Dean was reminded of who his father had been before his mom’s death. He hadn’t been a perfect man. He’d been stubborn, fast to anger, yelled a bit too much, and would storm out of the house after every single argument. But he’d also spoiled Dean with toys, took him out to play, snuck him an extra cookie for dessert, and had let his sons know that they were loved in a million different little ways. That was the dad that held Dean now.

When the embrace ended and his father pulled away, Dean looked up at him with teary eyes. 

“Thank you for saving her.” His dad didn’t have to specify what he was talking about. They both knew that the man was grateful not only that his wife hadn’t had to die but that the awful picture of the future that Dean had painted would not come to pass. 

“Thanks for believing me.” Dean returned. 

“Well, at this point I’d be a fool not to.”

“And you’ve never been accused of being a fool.” Dean confirmed.

“Well, you obviously haven’t been talking to your mom.”

Dean laughed. Then he looked down and his eyes widened. “Uh, Dad?”

“What’s wrong?”

“The bathtub’s overflowing.”


	15. A Mostly Perfect Day

Chapter Fifteen: A Mostly Perfect Day

 

Mary fed another spoonful of pureed peaches to Sam, who promptly spit it back out. He pounded his tiny fists onto the tray and let out a little screech. Mary scooped up more of the mush and held it out to the baby. This time he batted the spoon away from his face. Mary sighed. 

“I don’t believe that Sam wants that food.” Castiel spoke up.

Mary turned to face the angel who was standing off to the side of the table.

“No kidding?” She replied. 

“Yesterday Dean fed him rice cereal and he seemed to prefer that.”

“Rice cereal it is.” Mary walked into the kitchen. Sam had just started on solid foods not long ago and they were still in the trial and error stage of figuring out what he liked. Maybe Dean would be able to help rule out some of the unwanted foods.

She mixed the dry flakes in with baby formula until it was the right consistency. Then she brought it into the dining room. Mary was about to sit down at the table again when she realized that John had been upstairs for quite a while. Her husband was probably almost done helping their son with his bath and they’d both be down for breakfast soon. She wasn’t sure how she felt about John volunteering to assist Dean. He rarely bathed the children at all and Mary had figured that he’d still be avoiding the boy today. But he’d jumped at the chance to go to Dean and Mary had allowed it. She prayed that it had been the right choice. She didn’t hear any arguing and screaming, so she figured that that was a good sign. 

“Castiel, could you feed Sam for me? I need to start breakfast.”

The angel looked startled. “You want me to feed the baby?”

“That’s what I just asked.”

“But… I have never fed an infant before.”

“You put the food on the spoon and the spoon in his mouth. It’s not rocket science, Castiel.”

He looked at her for a moment. “Interesting.”

“What?”

“I had always assumed that Dean got his attitude strictly from his father. It appears that I was wrong.”

Mary smiled. “Was that an attempt at humor? If so, you’ve spent too much time with Dean.”

“So I have been told. On several occasions.” Castiel picked up the spoon and scooped up some food. He offered it to Sam, who looked at him somewhat distrustfully. But then, obviously deciding that the food was good no matter who was holding the spoon, the baby happily closed his mouth around it and swallowed. 

Seeing that the angel had everything under control, Mary went into the kitchen. She turned the stove on to medium heat and placed a griddle over the two lit burners. Next, she mixed some eggs, milk, vanilla, brown sugar, and cinnamon together in a bowl. Then she dipped slices of bread into the mixture and dropped them onto the hot griddle, listening to them sizzle.

Mary had just used the spatula to remove the last slice of French toast from the stove when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She carried the platter of breakfast into the dining room and had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. Castiel’s dress shirt and tie were splattered with baby food and he was wiping some from his cheek. Sam was holding the spoon and waving it in the air.

“I guess feeding a baby was a bit too hard for you after all.” Mary commented.

“The task wouldn’t have been difficult if Sam had cooperated.”

“He’s six months old. Being uncooperative is practically his job.”

Castiel’s response was cut off by John’s voice as he tried to talk to Dean quietly while they entered the room.

“Just don’t tell your mother.”

“Don’t tell me what?”

John looked at her with a somewhat guilty expression. “Nothing.”

“He doesn’t want you to know that he flooded the bathroom.” Dean replied as he hopped up into his chair. “French toast! Awesome!”

“Thanks a lot Dean.” John muttered. “Don’t worry, honey. A little water got on the floor and we cleaned it up.”

“I hope so, because it looks like Sam’s going to need to use the tub next.” Mary commented.

“Not to mention Cas.” Dean chimed in. The boy put two slices of French toast on his plate and then drowned them in syrup. 

Mary sat down and served both herself and John. She was pleasantly surprised that her husband and son seemed to be getting along. She wasn’t sure what had happened but it was a relief. So much so that she decided not to bring up the fact that John had stayed out all day the previous day and hadn’t arrived home until late. There was peace in the Winchester house and she wasn’t going to do anything to disrupt it.

John went into the kitchen and came back a minute later with two cups of hot coffee. He placed one in front of her and sat down with the other.

“Hey, can I get one of those?” Dean asked.

“No.” She and John both responded at the same time.

Dean made a face. “Not even a little?”

Mary shook her head. “Do you know what all this caffeine would do to you? We’d be scraping you off of the ceiling.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

She smiled and shook her head again.

The Winchesters ate their breakfast in companionable silence, except for the occasional cooing and giggles from Sam, with an angel watching over them. It was strange, but nice. Mary hoped that the calm would last, but after the last couple of days, she seriously doubted that it would.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
… 

Dean followed his dad outside and to the Impala. The supplies that had been purchased the day before were still in the trunk. They were going to bring the stuff inside and finish up protecting the house. As he reached the car, Dean smiled.

“What’s up?” His dad asked, glancing down at him.

“I love this car.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You gave her to me when I got my license. Got yourself a truck. I still have her. Well, I did… in the future. Had to rebuild her from scratch but she still ran great.”

His father opened the trunk and began pulling out bags. “Good to know she’ll last.”

“Told you she would.” Dean replied with a grin. His dad looked at him questioningly. “Well, Mom already figured it out, so I might as well tell you. Remember when you went to buy that 1964 Volkswagen bus and some dude in a leather jacket by the name of Dean Van Halen told you to buy the 1967 Chevy Impala instead?”

“Yeah, but how do you… oh my God. That was… but how?”

“Cas. How else?”

His dad stared at him. “Why?”

“Long story, Dad. But yeah, that was me. Ten years ago for you, four years ago for me, and yet twenty-five years from now. Got a headache yet? I sure as hell do. Probably best not to think about it too hard. Just thank me for my awesome advice and we’ll move on.”

His dad shook his head. “If I remember correctly, your dad taught you about cars, so shouldn’t the credit go to him?”

“Damn!” Dean exclaimed. “You had to bring that up.”

They both laughed. Dean struggled to lift one of the large cans of paint up off the ground as his dad easily scooped up the other can, the two shopping bags, and the large bag of rock salt. This small body seriously sucked sometimes. As he dragged the heavy item to the front door, Dean heard a car slow as it passed by. A quick glance revealed a pick-up truck being driven by a thin man in his late forties. He looked harmless enough; well-dressed, clean-shaven, with thinning hair. But something about him made Dean shiver. The man smiled at Dean and waved as he drove off. If it was meant to be a friendly gesture, the dude had to seriously work on it.

Turning back to the house, the boy saw that his dad had just opened the front door. The small hunter hurried to catch up. Once inside, he placed the can down on the floor and locked the door. Dean wondered why he was so shaken by some guy driving a truck. Was it just his kiddo emotions getting to him again or was it his hunter’s instincts?

“So, how much salt do we mix into the paint?”

“Huh?” Dean spun around to face his dad. “Oh, uh… well, a lot. We need enough in it so that everything we paint will be protected.”

“But you’re not going to do any mixing up here.” His mom interrupted. “You’ll get it all over my nice floor. Take it to the basement.”

“Yes, dear.” His dad replied.

“Yes, Mom.” Dean responded at the same time.

Hours later, Dean stood on the stepstool in front of the bathroom sink, scrubbing the paint off of his hands. He was feeling much better now that the whole house was as protected as it was going to get. He’d considered bringing up the idea of a panic room like Bobby’s but decided that that would be a project for a different day. 

Hopping off the stool, Dean dried his hands and then tossed the towel onto the bathroom counter. He reached up to shut off the lights on his way out of the bathroom. It had been strange working with his father. The man was nothing like the person he’d become after the death of his wife. Well, maybe there were similarities, but he was much more open to discussion than Dean remembered. Of course, this time around Dean had more experience and his parents were acknowledging that fact by taking their cues from him. Dean absently wondered how long it would last. His dad was ex-marine and was used to running the house and would surely tire of taking orders from a four year old at some point. But for the moment, Dean would enjoy the calm that had settled on the Winchester household. 

He walked past his dad who was on his way to get cleaned up and went downstairs. Cas was sitting on the couch with Sammy in the baby swing next to him. The television was on and both angel and baby were watching Sesame Street. Dean shook his head.

“Don’t you already know your ABCs, Cas?”

“I believe this show is supposed to teach more than just the alphabet, Dean. But I don’t understand why anyone would wish to subject small children to a show about monsters.”

“They’re friendly monsters.” Dean shrugged as Cas arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, truthfully I don’t get it either. And they wonder why kids get nightmares. I mean seriously, I see something green and furry pop outta a trashcan, I’m shooting the bitch right there.” 

“Dean!” 

The boy turned his head to see his mom standing in the doorway. “What?”

“Watch your language around Sammy. If his first word is ‘bitch’, you are grounded for life.”

“Got it.”

At the dinner table, Dean’s father cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“So, what happens next?”

“Dessert?” Dean suggested.

“You know what I mean. The house is protected, which is what we decided was the first step. So, what’s next?”

Dean shrugged. “Not sure. I guess it depends a bit on the demons’ next move. If they come after us, we fight. If they leave us alone, then we gotta find out what they’re up to and go kick their asses.”

“We will also have to participate in some of the hunts you went on the first time around. While other hunters will take care of some of them, there are those which will require you to handle.” Cas informed them.

“So, which are which?” Dean asked.

“We should study your father’s journal. Together we can determine a course of action.”

“My journal?” Dean’s dad questioned.

“That book I put on your nightstand? I thought it was yours.” His mom added.

“Well, it is now. Dad gave it to me.”

“I kept a journal?” 

“Yeah. You filled it with all the stuff you learned about the supernatural and info on hunts.”

“I’d like to see it.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. He didn’t want this version of his father ‘meeting’ the other version. Nothing good could come from it. “I mean, Cas and I are more familiar with the stuff, so it makes more sense for us to look through it.”

His dad looked annoyed, but nodded. “Okay.”

That had been too easy. Dean made a mental note to keep a close eye on the journal.

“So we plan.” Mary summed up. “Sounds reasonable.”

That night, Dean climbed into his bed and pulled the covers up to his chest. Cas sat on the edge of his bed and placed a hand on the boy’s forehead. It had been decided that, until a permanent solution to Dean’s nightmares was discovered, the angel would continue to be with Dean in his dreams to prevent the memories of Hell from overwhelming him once again. Dean’s father stood by the foot of his bed, holding a sleeping baby Sammy and wished him goodnight. Then his mom stroked his hair and sang ‘Hey Jude’. Her voice singing that song brought back so many wonderful memories and feelings that Dean thought he’d somehow ended up in Heaven. It was perfect. Everything was just perfect. Dean smiled at his family and closed his eyes. And for the first time since he was actually four years old, Dean Winchester drifted off to sleep feeling safe, content, and loved.


	16. Conversations in the Night

Chapter Sixteen: Conversations in the Night 

 

John walked down the stairs after putting Sammy in his crib. He was tired and was tempted to go to bed, but his mind was racing. He had spent an entire day with his son and was trying to reconcile this new Dean with the one that he’d raised the last four and a half years. There were a few minor similarities, sure, but the differences were startling. Dean still joked and laughed, but it wasn’t the silly, carefree type that children usually displayed. He acted tough but there was a bit of vulnerability under it all and John wondered if that belonged to the adult, the kid, or both. Dean seemed fearless, yet haunted. Mature, yet juvenile. John wondered if Dean was this conflicted before being sent back into his four year old body or if it was purely due to his current condition. Either way, he was very aware that Dean was damaged and it was all his fault. Or it would’ve been… however that worked. 

He couldn’t deny the fact that if a demon had killed Mary that night, he would’ve wanted revenge. The idea that he’d drag his sons all around the country and raise them to kill things was something he really didn’t want to believe but when he decided that Dean was telling the truth, he had had to accept the whole story. And now he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. After all, anything that his son could’ve grown up to be was now gone because of how he’d been raised. Of course, according to Castiel, even Heaven and Hell had Dean’s life planned out for him. It seemed that his boy would never have a chance at any type of real future. And how the hell was a father supposed to deal with that?

“Your head is going to explode.”

“Then maybe my brain wouldn’t hurt so much anymore.” 

Mary chuckled. “I don’t think that’s the best headache remedy.”

She sat down next to him on the couch. John turned to face her.

“How are you even handling all of this?”

“Well, to be fair, I did know about the supernatural long before now. And I am sorry I lied to you about it.”

John waved her off. “I’m not mad. Not really. I probably wouldn’t have believed you without seeing it for myself anyhow.”

“I didn’t want you to see it. _I_ didn’t want to see it anymore.”

“Guess we don’t have a choice now, huh?”

“Guess not.” She confirmed. They sat in silence for a moment. “It’s Dean, isn’t it? That’s what’s bothering you.” It wasn’t a question.

“He’s… it’s not right, Mary. You, me and Sammy all get a do-over and he doesn’t. He gets Hell memories that can only be kept under control by an angel. And I know it’s incredibly selfish, but I miss our Dean. The little guy that hasn’t had to live through all that crap. He’s gone. Thirty years gone.”

“Trust me, I feel the same but this all could’ve turned out worse.”

“I know. If not for Dean and his guardian angel, things would be much worse. But what do we do, Mary? How do we raise a thirty year old, traumatized kid?”

“With love. Because I get the feeling that that’s what he needs.”

“But he’s so… tough. I feel like any gesture on my part will be rejected. I mean, he let me hug him and all but I feel like too much would make him uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think he’s completely a grown-up, though. He reacts with the emotions of a child sometimes. He doesn’t talk about it, but I think that Dean is caught in between his two ages. John, I think he’s just as lost as we are on how to deal with this.”

John nodded. “So we figure it out together, then.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel followed Dean through the amusement park. It was strange to see Dean as an adult after spending the day with him in his four year old body, but he supposed that since this was Dean’s dream, the man could appear any way he wanted. He was surprised at how much control Dean had over the dreamscape once Castiel himself pushed away the Hell memories that threatened to overwhelm the hunter. 

“I thought we’d be returning to the bar.”

“No way, Cas. New night, new location.”

“Why an amusement park?”

“Why not?”

“It’s crowded, noisy, and I’m not sure that all of these rides are safe.”

“Lighten up and have some fun. There’s food, games, and the rides are awesome.”

“Have you ever been to one of these?” Castiel questioned. He knew that Dean had to have some information to form this place in his mind but he also knew that his friend’s childhood hadn’t really left time for things like vacation spots. It was just as likely that this was all built on something Dean had seen on television.

“Sure. Dad and Mom took me here when I was three. And then I took a girl or two to different carnival’s when I got older. And carnivals are pretty much just small versions of amusement parks.” Dean got pensive for a moment. “I always figured Sammy and I would stop by this place one day, but the opportunity never came up.” 

Castiel wondered what the draw to these places was. The food looked to be greasy and very unhealthy, nobody seemed to be winning the games, and he was still convinced that if he were in the real amusement park rather than a dream version, there would be multiple deaths occurring on the rides. Why did people spend money to get on a ride that would drop them from several stories high? As much time as he’d spent around humans, Castiel supposed that there were some things that would remain a mystery.

Dean walked up to one of the game booths. From what Castiel could tell, the point of the game was to throw darts at balloons. But very few people were getting them to pop.

“This game doesn’t appear to work very well.”

“It’s fixed, Cas. All carnie games are. See, the darts aren’t as sharp as they should be, the balloons are under-inflated, and the board they’re taped to is tilted slightly. Even expert marksmen have a hard time with these games. That’s how these places make money. The prizes are cheap crap but still, if everyone won something, it wouldn’t turn a profit.” As he spoke, Dean grabbed a handful of darts and threw them. One, two, three, four, and five balloons popped. The man behind the counter handed a ridiculously large stuffed bear to the hunter. Dean grinned.

“How did you…”

“My dream, Cas. You think I’d play a game that I could lose at? You know what’ll be awesome, though. If I can get Dad and Mom to bring me to a carnival and do this for real. How much would that freak the game operators out? ”

Dean dropped his large prize on a bench as they walked by. 

“You are leaving it there?”

“Can’t take it outta my dream with me, can I?”

“No.” Castiel wanted to talk with Dean about his Hell memories and why they were affecting him so severely, but seeing the excitement on his face ended that train of thought. There would be plenty of time for that discussion during the day. For now, the angel would just keep his friend company and hold the nightmares at bay.

“So Cas, what’s up first? Freefall or rollercoaster?”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Alastair stood across the street from the Winchester home and stared at the dark structure as though he could see through the walls and to the family inside. The family that had somehow killed Azazel and disrupted Lucifer’s plans. And now Hell needed to find a way to get everything back on track. Which was why Alastair had found himself pulled away from his own rather enjoyable work to come up the this freezing cold place where he could no longer hear the beautiful cacophony of screams and cries of pain. He just wanted to get this over with and go back home. And he had a feeling that he’d found the key of the whole mess. 

When he’d driven by the house earlier, he’d seen the boy turn to stare at him and there was something… off about the child. Alastair wished he could get closer to the boy to figure out what was different about him. Perhaps even open him up and take a look inside. But it would have to wait for the moment. The Winchester home was protected. With any luck, John Winchester, who also believed that there was something wrong with his son, would call him soon. The demon couldn’t wait to get his hands on Dean Winchester. Either he’d find something in the child that would be the answer to Hell’s little problem, or he’d use the child to get what was wanted from the parents. Both solutions worked for him. And it was so rare that he got a chance to work on a child…

“Tell me everything.”

The female who had walked up besides him cringed at his tone of voice. Alastair smiled.

“Mary Winchester fought like the hunter she was raised to be. And John… I have no idea how he got his hands on the Colt. They also had a knife that could kill us. They were very well prepared.”

“And the other?”

“He was dressed up nicely and I got the sense of hidden power in him. But he merely stood in a doorway and watched the whole fight.”

“No, not him. Although there must be something there as well. I’m asking of the child.”

“He was… strange. He was scared, but not as terrified as a child should’ve been. And the way he talked. He spoke more like an adult than a mere kid. And a vulgar adult at that. And he called me Meg. Insisted that it was my ‘new name’.” The woman pushed the long, dark hair back and out of her new host body’s face. 

“Tell me more.”

“That’s it.” She shrugged.

Alastair glared at her. “This family is important in Lucifer’s plans. Plans that will transform this planet into our paradise and lead to eternal torment for all of humanity. And you… you almost screwed everything up by killing them for something as petty as revenge.”

“They killed my father…”

“Then he was as weak and pathetic as I always suspected him to be.”

The female looked pissed but fear held her tongue.

Alastair continued. “Let me make this clear to you. You were rash and stupid and the only reason you aren’t currently on my rack being taken apart for the next few centuries is because you encountered the family and may have some needed information. If that’s not the case, say so now and we can head down below together. Or you can tell me more about Dean Winchester.”

The terror that radiated off of her was delicious. “Well, uh… now that I think about it, it was the child who went upstairs and brought the weapons to his father. And I only saw from the corner of my eye, but I think he’s the one who stabbed my brother.”

“Brave for a small child.”

“Well, he is a hunter’s son.”

“A retired hunter’s son. And from what I know of hunters, even the active ones don’t teach toddlers to hunt. This boy is… unique. Tell me, did you look him in the eye?”

“Well, maybe… I guess so. Why is that important?”

“What did you see?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. Alastair decided that if she repeated that gesture yet again, he’d break her shoulders so that she wouldn’t continue to do so. “He seemed… wrong, somehow.”

“You really are incompetent.” Alastair sneered. “I suppose I will have to see for myself.” He decided that if John Winchester didn’t call soon, he’d have to find another body and try a different approach. And he’d keep trying until he finally met Dean face to face.


	17. Party Time

Chapter Seventeen: Party Time 

“But why do I have to go?” Dean knew that his voice was dangerously close to being whiny, but he couldn’t help it. He just had to try everything to get out of going, but his mom’s stern look told him that he was screwed.

Over the last couple of weeks the Winchesters had fallen into new daily routine. They’d all get up and have breakfast together before Dean’s father left for work. Then Cas and Dean would study the journal, making a list of all of the hunts that the Winchesters had taken part in the first time around. During breaks, Dean would play with Sammy and help take care of him. His mom would take care of her sons, cook, clean and train. She was determined to get her skills back into perfect shape. When John would get home, they’d all eat dinner and then Dean would teach them what he knew about hunting and help them to get prepared. Once it got late, Dean would bathe and then get ready for bed. He’d lie down and Cas would sit next to him and place a hand on his head. His parents would kiss him and wish him good night before his mom sung to him and he’d drift off to pleasant dreams where he and Cas would hang out in all different places until the morning. Dean found himself settling into this new life well, even feeling a little content. Sure, he was constantly having to dodge questions that he didn’t want to answer and was trying to avoid certain conversations, but it was worth it to have his family together. Things were going pretty well. Until now.

“Dean, we’ve been over this. We agreed to go and I can’t call to cancel.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’ve avoided contact with the neighbors for almost three weeks and we don’t need people to start asking questions.”

“But a birthday party, Mom? Really?”

“He’s a friend of yours and I’ve known his mother for years. If we don’t go, they’ll get concerned that something’s wrong.”

Dean sighed. “Can’t we just tell ‘em I’m sick?”

“Then Debbie will come over after the party to make sure that you’re alright. And we’ll have to go to dinner with them as soon as you’re ‘better’.” It was his mom’s turn to sigh. “Look, we’ll only stay for a couple of hours. Long enough for presents and cake and then we’ll come home.”

Dean bit his lip thoughtfully. “What kind of cake?”

His mom laughed and ruffled his hair. “Get your coat and we’ll head out.”

“Fine. But you owe me an extra pie on Thursday.” Dean replied. He was actually looking forwards to Thanksgiving, which was only five days away. It had been forever since he’d had his mom’s fresh baked turkey with all the trimmings and he planned on savoring every bite. Besides, it would be Cas’s first time celebrating the holiday and Dean was looking forwards to forcing the angel to try all of the foods that were to be served.

Dean sat down on the floor and put on his sneakers, closing the velcro straps and then stood up. Man, did he miss his boots. But at least his mom had gone shopping and bought him some shirts that were more to his tastes and a few more pairs of jeans. Dean absolutely refused to wear corduroy pants. Today, he was wearing a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a brown plaid flannel shirt. Over that, he pulled on his blue winter coat. His mom made sure he put on a winter hat before stepping out the door.

As they walked the block and a half to the house where the party was being held, Dean kept looking over his shoulder. It had been quiet since Meg’s attack on the Winchester home, but the small hunter didn’t trust it. He had been okay as long as they were all in their protected home, but he panicked the first day that his dad had left for work and badgered the man into calling every hour. Then he’d just about had a heart attack when his mom had left him and Sam with Cas so that she could go out to the store. Letting her out of his sight had made him beyond nervous. And now, walking down the street with her, Dean felt that anxiety return. He tried to reassure himself that they’d be fine, but he knew that there was always a chance that something would happen. The boy felt marginally better when they reached their destination. The house wasn’t protected, but he doubted that Meg would try to ambush a kid’s birthday party. Really, who would go to one of these things by choice? 

When they reached the front door, Dean’s mom looked down at him sternly.

“Be on your best behavior.”

“Always am.”

“I mean it, Dean. If I get a single phone call from another parent saying that you taught their child a colorful word, you will not see the outside of your room until Thanksgiving.” Dean smirked at that but then his mom continued. “And there will be no pie at all for you.”

Dean nodded his agreement immediately. “Okay. Best behavior. Got it.”

“Good.” Then she knocked on the door. 

It flew open to reveal a woman that Dean had all but forgotten. Debbie was a bit shorter than his mom and a little heavier, her long black hair was braided and far too much make-up adorned her face. And she was overly-friendly.

“Oh, Mary, it’s so good to see you! How have you been? Good I hope. How’s John? And your baby must be getting so big by now. What? Six months now, right? And oh, look at Dean! You’ve gotten so big. I remember when you were just a baby and look at you now. I love the new hair cut. Just so adorable. Come in, come in. The other kids are in the playroom already. Go join them. Mary, come on into the kitchen and we can catch up. It’s been ages and I have so much to tell you.”

If not for the threat of losing pie, Dean would’ve asked her how she could’ve survived that long without breathing. Instead, he trudged into the house and shed his coat and hat, handing them to his mom. Then he stopped, before looking around himself. He tried to remember which way the playroom was, but the last thirty years had been busy and the house was only barely familiar. Luckily, his mom seemed to realize his dilemma and placed a hand on his back to give him a tiny push to the right. Dean threw her a grateful smile as he walked down the hall. 

When he entered the room, Dean was tempted to turn around and run back out. He had no problem with kids. He actually got along well with them. But now, faced with a room full of five and six year olds, he really wanted an escape. Because he knew that he was expected to act like them and he couldn’t even remember how he had been all those years ago. It was strange. He was physically the youngest in the room, but he just didn’t know how to be a carefree child.

“Dean! Hey, come on in! Sit down. We’re playing He-Man.” Mark, the birthday boy, greeted.

“Did you get your hair cut?” Another boy asked. 

“Nah, I just woke up one mornin’ and it was shorter.” Dean replied with a shrug. The boy gave him a sour look.

Dean sat down on the floor with the others. There were eight other boys gathered around a pile of Masters of the Universe action figures. Dean grabbed one at random and looked at it. Skeletor. The lamest looking evil skeleton ever. He didn’t have any more time to look at it though, because one of the other boys snatched it from his hands.

“I get to be Skeletor. You’re just a baby, so you can be one of the dumb characters.”

Dean looked at the boy that was probably six years old. He was the tallest and the fattest of the kids and if Dean remembered correctly, he was a bully. But he was also Mark’s cousin and thus had been invited. 

“Robert, you don’t gotta be mean about it.” Mark commented.

“It’s okay.” Dean insisted, fighting the urge to punch the fat jerk in the face. “Didn’t want that one anyway.”

“See, the baby didn’t want it anyway. He’s just gonna go sit in the corner and suck his thumb.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He wondered if it was wrong of him to picture the kid facing off against a wendigo.

Another boy snickered and Dean tried his best to ignore it. He promised his mom he’d behave and he doubted that she’d consider giving another boy a bloody nose to be good behavior.

“I’ll be He-Man!” A skinny boy with longish red hair declared.

Robert snorted. “You look more like Teela, girly-boy.”

While Dean couldn’t deny it, he was a bit pissed at the bully when he saw the other boy bite his lip and turn red. This Robert kid was a real douche-bag. 

After about an hour of playing, and Dean mostly keeping to himself, one of the kids suggested playing hide-and-seek. The others agreed and a boy with thick glasses and a dorky shirt volunteered to be 'it'. Robert made it known that he was the only one who'd be 'it' by punching the other kid in the arm pretty hard. And thus it was decided who would try to find the others. They only had a minute to hide.

As they scrambled to get out of the playroom, Robert ‘accidentally’ bumped into the red-headed boy and tripped Dean. Or at least he tried to. Dean saw the foot sticking out and brought his own down on the boy’s ankle.

“Ow, watch it, you little baby.”

Dean leaned in close and spoke in a low, threatening tone. “Call me ‘baby’ or tease any of the other kids here one more time and a bruised ankle will be the least of your worries, got it?” 

Robert was about to reply when he looked Dean in the eyes. Dean was glaring back at the boy with all the intensity of his adult-hunter self and let every ounce of his true life come through in that look. Robert’s own eyes widened and he nodded before skulking back into the playroom to count.

Dean went up the stairs and began checking the rooms for a good hiding spot. He hoped to remain hidden until it was time for cake. He’d spent his entire adult life lying and pretending to be someone other than himself, but found that it was tiring right now. He liked being with his family where he could just be Dean Winchester.

The little hunter opened the door to what looked like a sewing room. There was a bay window with a padded bench seat in front of it, a spinning wheel (really, who had one of those?), a sewing machine, mannequins that were partially dressed in homemade clothes (creepy as all hell), a large wardrobe, a rocking chair, a table, and a few large sewing kits. But nowhere to hide. Unless…

Dean walked over to the bench seat and lifted the top off. There was plenty of room to hide in there… or there would have been if it wasn’t packed with sewing supplies. With a groan, Dean replaced the top. He’d have to move fast if he didn’t want to be caught outside of a hiding place.

Dean turned to leave the room and stopped dead. There was a man standing there looking down at him. Dean was fairly certain that it was Robert’s father, Debbie’s brother-in-law.

“Uh, sorry if I’m not supposed to be in here. We’re playing hide-and-seek and I needed a spot to hide in.”

“That’s not why I’m here, Dean.”

“If this is about what happened between your son and me, he started it. I was just…”

“I don’t care about that. I’m here to see you.” The man looked Dean over in a way that creeped him out.

“You come any closer and I’ll scream.”

“Good. I enjoy hearing the sounds of screams.”

“Dude, you’re sick, you know that?” Dean backed up, away from the man. “I’m gonna call for help and get your pervy ass in trouble now.”

Before he could shout, the man grinned at him. “You do that. And I’ll skin whoever comes in here alive. Maybe it’ll be your mommy. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Dean continued to back away until his back hit the wall. The man stepped towards him and pulled out a nasty looking knife. Dean’s heart was beating way too fast. Then the man’s eyes seemed to roll back as they turned white. He laughed a quiet, yet sadistic laugh.

Dean gasped in surprise and fear. “Alastair.”


	18. Terror and Pain

Chapter Eighteen: Terror and Pain 

Dean felt his blood turn cold as his heart beat wildly and his breath caught in his throat. His tiny body began to shake uncontrollably as memories of the monster before him came flooding into his brain. The monster who’d taken him apart, then put him back together only to take him apart again in an even more agonizing way. The monster who’d broken him completely. Decades worth of torture tried to push their way into his forethoughts but Dean fought against them. He needed to remain clearheaded to deal with Alastair. The boy tried to swallow back the sheer terror but only partially succeeded. The last time he’d faced off against a powerful demon he’d been killed. And Alastair scared him a hell of a lot more than Azazel. 

“You know my name? How?” The demon’s eyes flicked back to brown as he scratched at his host body’s beard. 

Dean shook his head but could not find his voice. His childish emotions made the fear he typically felt around Alastair multiply by a thousand. It took all of his control not to hyperventilate or pee himself. 

“Speak, boy. How do you know me?”

Dean forced his voice to come out and tried to sound tough. “I saw your face on America’s Most Unwanted.” It probably would’ve sounded so much cooler if his words hadn’t come out in a shaky whisper. 

“Oh, a funny child. I like funny. It’ll be so humorous to carve your tongue out and see what jokes you can tell then.”

Dean felt what was left of the blood in his face drain away. He knew from experience that that was not an empty threat. But he had to remain strong. He couldn’t let Alastair know the truth. He and his family had decided that it would be far too dangerous to let either side of the apocalypse war know about Dean. And no matter what, he couldn’t allow himself to make any noises that would bring anyone else into the room with the sadistic demon. Yeah, he was totally screwed. But then he remembered something. The boy reached into his pocket and started unscrewing the cap on the small bottle he kept in there.

Alastair stared into Dean’s eyes, looking for something. Dean wasn’t sure what he was trying to see, but the hunter kept his expression as blank as his fear would allow. He knew that his eyes could give him away and wasn’t about to let it happen now. 

Alastair stepped even closer, studying the knife in his hand. “So, really now. No secrets between us. What is so different about you? How do you know the things you know?”

“Not everyone’s a dumbass like you.”

“Cute. But how cute do you think you’ll be when I’m through with you?”

“Still cuter than you.” Dean declared as he pulled the opened bottle of holy water from his pocket and splashed it on the demon.

Alastair hissed in pain and dropped the knife to grab at his smoking face. Dean leaped forwards to snatch the weapon up but he was still a foot away when he was grabbed from behind. Damn, Alastair moved fast.

The demon possessed man held Dean tightly in one arm and grabbed the boy’s much smaller arm with his other hand. 

“Tell me how you know me or I snap your bone like a twig.”

“I… I, uh… I saw you in a dream.” Dean stammered out. It was partially true.

“No. You’re not psychic. And that also wouldn’t explain why you act and talk the way you do or how you got your hands on demon killing weapons. So, I call you a liar.”

Dean had no time to think as a hand covered his mouth and the other bent his tiny arm in a direction that it was never meant to go. A loud cracking sound rang out and Dean screamed in pain. His cries were muffled by Alastair’s hand but were still hardly quiet. Dean slumped forwards, sobbing in agony. Four year old bodies just did not have high thresholds for pain. 

He heard footsteps outside the door to the room and prayed that it wasn’t his mother. While he wanted nothing more than to be rescued, he didn’t want to see what his former torturer could do to his mom. Alastair heard the sound as well.

“I guess this meeting will be cut short. But don’t think that this is over. Next time, we’ll meet somewhere more private and I’ll have all the time I want with you. So you should really contemplate telling me the truth, boy. Because I’ll get it one way or another. And while I prefer the hard way, I doubt you’ll feel the same.”

The door opened and a child’s voice spoke up. “If you want to hide well, you shouldn’t make so much noise. I could hear you… Dad? What are you doing?”

Through his tears, Dean could see Robert standing just inside the room. “Run!” he tried to say, but the large hand covering his mouth drowned out his warning.

“Just stay there for a moment, Robert. I’ll be right with you.”

The boy looked confused. “Why are you holding Dean? Is he in trouble?” 

“You can say that.” Alastair replied to his host body’s son. Then he picked Dean up off the floor and threw him.

Dean felt himself sail through the air and crash through the window. He fell from the second story and landed hard on the front lawn. He wasn’t sure whether or not he cried out in pain but then the world faded to black.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Robert stood staring at his dad. The man was tough, sure, and not above paddling his son’s butt with a large metal spoon when he got into trouble, but he’d never seen his father purposefully injure anyone. Until now.

Sure, Dean was really annoying. He was far too little to be invited to a birthday party for a six year old and Robert had instantly pegged him as one of the easy targets. Well, he had until the child had threatened him. Normally, a threat from a baby would’ve been met with a laugh and a punch to the stomach, but there was something… dangerous in Dean’s eyes. So Robert had backed off. He’d wanted to find a way to get even with the little boy but he certainly hadn’t wanted to see the kid thrown out a window. 

“D… Dad? Why did you…”

“I didn’t.” His father turned around and smiled at him. The smile was not his father’s. It was cold and cruel and just plain scary.

“But I saw you…”

“You did it.”

Robert shook his head in denial. He could hear footsteps running up the stairs. His dad grabbed him and spun him around to face the door and then crouched down at eye level with him. Then the man’s eyes turned pure white. Robert wanted to scream but no sound would come out when he opened his mouth. It was like a nightmare. The worst nightmare the boy had ever had. 

“You found Dean sitting near the window and pushed him. He accidentally fell back and crashed through it. Say anything different and I will break every bone in your body and paint your skin red with your own blood.”

Robert began to sob in terror. The door flew open and he raised his teary eyes to see a crowd of both adults and children. Dean’s mom was at the front. He looked back at whatever his father had become. The ‘man’ smiled at him and winked.

“What did you do, son? What happened?” He demanded in an urgent tone, his eyes once again normal.

“I… I pushed Dean. He fell out the window by accident.” He managed to choke out.

Robert heard gasps and then the crowd was divided between those scrambling to get downstairs and outside and those staring at him in shock. Robert felt as though he’d pass out as tears continued to run down his face.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary had heard a crash from upstairs and instinctively knew that it was Dean. Something had happened to her baby again. She took off running, easily taking the lead in the race to get up the stairs. Children and parents followed her up and then she stopped, listening to see if she could figure out where the sound had come from. She heard a muffled voice and crying coming from a room. Mary threw the door open and looked into the room.

Debbie’s nephew stood there, crying and with a look of terror on his chubby face. He looked to her and then to his father who was crouched before the child, his back to the door. The man asked his terrified son what had happened and the boy confessed to pushing Dean out the window. 

Mary felt her heart stop at that statement. She’d seen the broken window upon entering but hadn’t paid it much attention, instead focusing on the clearly distraught child. But now, that pane of broken glass was one of the most upsetting things she’d ever seen. They were on the second floor. Her son had fallen through a second story window.

Without wasting another second, Mary pushed her way through the crowd and took off back down the stairs. She prayed that her boy would still be alive. Castiel’s confession that he had to keep low key made it clear that he wouldn’t be able to solve all of the Winchester’s problems with his angelic powers. He’d also stated that the only reason he’d been able to bring Dean back that night was because his soul had not yet been collected by a reaper. If he’d already reached heaven, Castiel would’ve been unable to help. Mary couldn’t stand the thought of losing her first born son.

She reached the front door and slammed it open. Mary jumped down the three front steps and ran to her right. Then she froze. Dean lay crumpled in a heap on the front lawn. His left arm was at a strange angle and she could see the white of bone sticking out through the bleeding flesh of his forearm. Glass shards clung to his clothes, stuck in his skin, and littered the grass around his small, broken body. There was a stream of blood running down his face and he was far too still. The thought that he could be dead got her moving again.

“Call an ambulance!” She shouted as she ran to drop down next to her son, just like that awful night weeks ago. She ignored the pain caused by the glass shards that dug into her knees and legs. “Dean? Oh baby, can you hear me?” She leaned over and saw his skinny chest rise and fall. He was breathing. Oh, thank God. Dean was still alive. 

Tears came to her eyes as she gently wiped at the blood on his head to see where it was coming from. There was a long gash on the right side of his forehead, just above his eye. He made a small moaning noise but there was no other indication that he was conscious to what was going on around him. Mary knew better than to try and move him. She didn’t want to even think about the possibility of spinal damage, but it was a consideration and moving him could worsen any internal injuries. 

Mary wished that she could call for Castiel to come and heal her son but knew that she couldn’t. Using his powers would be like a beacon shining to all of their supernatural enemies. Also, there was Sam to consider. Mary didn’t buy for a single moment that Dean had been accidentally pushed out a window. He’d been attacked and Robert had either done it while being possessed or had been frightened into going along with the lie by whatever had hurt Dean. In any case, John was at work and it was far too dangerous to have Castiel leave Sam alone or bring him here. 

So Mary sat in the front lawn of her neighbor’s house, stroking a hand through her son’s blood-coated hair as she listened to the sound of an ambulance’s siren getting closer. And she continued to pray that Dean would make it through this. And in the back of her mind she swore vengeance against whatever monster had injured her baby boy.


	19. Healing the Damage

Chapter Nineteen: Healing the Damage 

The last couple of hours were a blur. Mary had rode in the ambulance with Dean and listened to the paramedics shouting medical terms back and forth at each other. She’d decided long ago that medical professionals came up with their own language so that they could talk in front of patients and family without them knowing a damned thing that was being said. 

When they reached the hospital, her son was whisked away and she was told to sit and wait. And fill out paperwork, of course. Then she called John at work. He assured her that he would be right there and would call Castiel. Mary told him to tell the angel to stay put with Sam for the moment. As soon as she hung up the phone, a doctor approached her with consent forms that she needed to sign so that they could operate on Dean. Shock was setting in as she listened to him mention using metal plates and screws after they set the compound fracture, a possible spinal injury, and internal bleeding. The tears in her eyes blurred her signature as she handed the clipboard back to the doctor and fell back into the hard plastic chair. She was almost ready to call Castiel and tell him to get here and heal Dean, caution be damned, when John came rushing into the waiting room. He’d held her and murmured empty promises that Dean would make it, that he was a tough kid and would be just fine. And while Mary knew that John didn’t know any more than she did on what would happen to their son, his voice and comforting hug had helped to calm her.

And now they sat in silence waiting for word on Dean’s condition. Mary had always hated waiting and this was the longest wait of her life.

“Family of Dean Winchester?”

“Yes, that’s us.” Mary jumped to her feet in front of the doctor. He was a middle-aged man, just starting to get some grey in his short black hair. He was tall, but not intimidating. His smile was friendly as he held out a hand to shake theirs. 

“I’m Dr. Wayne. I’m in charge of your son’s case.”

“Yes, how is he?”

“Well, we just moved him to his own room in the ICU. He’s an incredibly lucky boy. A fall like that could’ve resulted in a far worse condition. Let me start with the worst injury, which was his left arm. He received an open compound fracture, which means that the bone was severed completely and was protruding from the skin. The pieces were displaced, which required surgery to realign. We needed to use an internal fixation, in this case both a small metal plate and screws, to hold the pieces in place. The limb is incased in a plaster cast that he will need to wear for at least four to six weeks. Now, the positioning of the fixations shouldn’t impede bone growth, but we will need to keep an eye on it as he gets older. If there are complications or it causes him pain, he will need further surgeries. Luckily, that is his only broken bone. He also had mild internal bleeding that was easily fixed and a small hairline fracture on his spine. But it’s unlikely to cause any problems. There were a few lacerations caused by the broken glass that required stitches. The only other concern is the head injury. Dean needed nine stitches to close the cut above his right eye. There does not appear to be any bleeding or swelling of the brain, so it is unlikely that he will suffer from any significant brain trauma. However, we are a bit concerned that he has not yet regained consciousness. He’s not in any danger of coma, but instead appears to be in a deep sleep. He did suffer from a seizure, though, so we’ll have to keep an eye on that and run more scans after he wakes up. We have him on anti-biotics to prevent and fight off any infections. You can go up and see him now. He’s in room I-4. That’s up on the second floor. Do you have any other questions?”

Both Winchesters shook their heads. Mary was trying to process everything she’d just been told. As soon as the doctor was out of earshot, she turned to John.

“Seizures? He’s unconscious. You don’t think he’s dreaming, do you? Last time he slept without Castiel’s help his memories gave him seizures. Oh, god. He could be stuck in Hell in his dreams right now.”

“I’ll get Castiel here right now. You go to Dean.”

Mary nodded and took off to the elevators. She rode one up to the second floor and then walked as quickly as possible to the entrance to the intensive care unit. After passing through the glass doors, Mary walked to the fourth room, took a deep breath and entered. Nothing could’ve prepared her for what she saw.

Dean lay on a hospital bed that looked much too large for his tiny body. His skin was pale and there was an IV line running into his right hand. Oxygen was being fed to him through his nose and monitors beeped out a steady rhythm. His left arm was in a bright blue cast. A large white bandage was taped to the boy’s forehead. All together, he just didn’t look like Dean. Not at all. 

Her son moaned pitifully in his sleep and shifted. If he weren’t so injured, he’d probably be thrashing around. Mary was at his side in an instant.

“Hey, sweetie. It’s okay baby; Mommy’s here. You’re going to be okay.” She carefully took his right hand in her own and held it tightly but gently. At that moment she forgot that he was a thirty-something year old in a child’s body. All she could see was her little boy suffering. 

She was still reassuring him moments later when Castiel appeared in the room beside her, holding a sleeping Sam. 

“He’s dreaming.” She told him, her tone pleading. She knew that the angel couldn’t risk using the power it would take to heal her son, not to mention the stir it would cause for Dean to miraculously be in perfect condition, but he could at least stop the Hell nightmares. 

Castiel looked down at the boy and nodded. He handed the baby to her and then placed a hand on Dean’s forehead. Mary held her breath as she waited.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel appeared in the torture room once again. The hideous true form of Alastair hovered over a table. As the angel got closer, he could see that Dean was strapped down on the table, dressed in only a pair of boxers, struggling against the bonds to no avail. He was already cut up pretty badly, blood running freely down his torn and tattered skin. Castiel cringed at the sight of his best friend in such a state. 

“Leave him alone.” Castiel ordered, just as he had the last time he’d had to help stop one of these nightmares. But this time, nothing happened.

Alastair placed the large serrated knife down and picked up a small blowtorch. 

“Now, Dean. This may hurt a bit.” He laughed a nasty, sadistic laugh.

“Stop it.” Castiel commanded. Still, the nightmare continued.

The demon turned on the flame and held it to Dean’s leg. The man screamed in agony. The angel knew that with that small flame, it would take hours for Alastair to finish burning Dean. He couldn’t let that happen. Dean didn’t deserve any of this. He never had. Castiel often wished that he’d been able to extract Dean from Hell long before the forty years that it had taken. But he knew that the others had not sent him into the pit in time since they had needed Dean to be broken. And now, all the angel could do was try and prevent Dean from having to relive the horrors he’d experienced down there. 

Castiel stepped forward and went to grab the demon, but his hand went right through Alastair. But then, the angel had pretty much expected that. He needed to get Dean to hear him.

“Dean. You need to listen to me. You are dreaming. I pulled you from Hell long ago. None of this is real any more.”

The small flame traveled up the man’s bare leg and he screamed again as the skin bubbled, blackened, and pealed away. Alastair kept the torch in place until even the bone was burnt before moving it up further. Dean struggled more, but still could not get free. 

“Dean, you need to pay attention to me.” Castiel tried again to be heard, but the tormented hunter merely cried out in pain. The angel stood there watching his friend being tortured, knowing that there was nothing that he could do.

With a thought, Castiel backed out of Dean’s dream and rejoined the Winchesters.

When the angel opened his eyes, John was standing next to Mary holding the infant Sam. The boys’ mother was sitting in a chair holding Dean’s hand, tears in her eyes. When Castiel took his hand off of Dean, both parents looked at him questioningly.

“Is he going to wake up now?” Mary asked hopefully.

“No.”

“Then why aren’t you with him?” John questioned a bit harshly. “Won’t the memories overwhelm him if you’re not there?”

“Yes. But I was unable to help him this time.”

“What do you mean?” Mary was clearly upset.

“I do not have any power in a human’s head other than what I am granted. It’s an angel rule. We need consent to do anything. For taking a vessel, we need direct consent. The host must agree to it. But to cause any change in a person’s dream, we only need implied consent.”

“What does that mean?” John demanded.

“It means that the person has to acknowledge that I am there and not tell me to leave. By allowing me to remain, the person is giving permission to manipulate the dreamscape. In Dean’s case, as soon as he recognizes that I am with him, I can push the memories of Hell away which allows him to take control of his own dream.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“He does not hear me this time. I tried but I cannot reach him and without his consent, direct or implied, I have no power in his head.”

“So what can you do for him?” The look on Mary’s face told him that she already knew the answer.

“Nothing.”

“What?” John thundered. “You mean my boy is suffering and the mighty angel can do nothing to help him? Then what good are you?”

“John…” Mary began.

Castiel cut her off. “I can do nothing, but perhaps you can.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was so lost in his memory that he could not see or hear me. But perhaps he will be able to acknowledge his parents.”

“But I’ve been trying to talk to him.” Mary protested.

“I don’t mean from out here.” Castiel informed her. “I can take your consciousnesses into Dean’s head with me and you can try to get through to him in there.”

“In his head?”

“Yes. But I warn you that it will not be an easy thing for you to witness. He is at the moment being tortured mercilessly and is in quite a bit of pain. And it is likely that he does not want you to see him like this.”

“That doesn’t matter. If we can help him, we will.” Mary declared.

Castiel had expected that answer. Dean’s parents obviously cared deeply for him and the angel knew that they would do whatever it took to assist him. 

John nodded his agreement but then had a question. “But what about Sammy?” 

Castiel took the baby from his arms and laid him down on the bed next to Dean. “He can sleep here for the few minutes that we are in Dean’s mind. I will know if anyone comes near us, so he will be perfectly safe.”

This seemed to placate both parents.

“So, what do we do?”

“Just hold onto my hand as I make contact with your son’s mind. Then we will be there. Once inside, all we need to do is make Dean aware of us and then I can push away the nightmares and wake him. But do not try to stop anything that is happening. It is not real and you will have no powers that Dean doesn’t grant you.”

“I understand.” Mary replied.

“Got it.” John answered.

“Good. Then take my hand. It’s time to once again pull Dean from Hell.”


	20. To Hell and Back

Chapter Twenty: To Hell and Back

John Winchester blinked in surprise. It was one thing to know that an angel was going to take you into your son’s mind so that you could rescue him from his memories of Hell, but it was another to suddenly find yourself transported from a hospital room to a torture chamber. He was no longer looking down at his injured four year old sleeping restlessly in a bed. Now there was a young man strapped down to a table being burned with some sort of torch by a… a thing. The creature was hideous looking and the whole sight made John feel ill. The young man (Dean, it was Dean as an adult) pulled against the restraints as the skin on his hip was burned away. The fabric on the pair of boxers he was wearing melted to his flesh as he let out a scream of anguish. There was blood all over his torn up body and John saw tears leaking from his eyes. He was about ready to rush the monster and pull him away from this grown-up version of his son when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You cannot affect anything here until Dean acknowledges you.” Castiel reminded him. 

John turned to see the angel standing there next to Mary. Her eyes were filled with horror and tears as she watched the same gruesome torture he’d just witnessed. Dean’s scream rang out once again. John spun back around to see the monster move the flame up to his son’s stomach. While he understood what Castiel was saying, part of him was wishing for nothing more than the opportunity to get his hands on the creature that had caused his boy so much pain. 

“So, Dean. How long do you really think you can hold out? You’re far too weak and you know it. Everyone knows it.” The thing that was burning Dean mocked. “Isn’t that what your daddy always told you? You were never good enough. Why do you think he left you so much? Because you’re a pathetic waste of space. Sam knew it too. Left you as soon as he got the chance. He’s up there right now, living his life the way he chooses, thrilled to be rid of the useless, weak brother he’d always been stuck with.”

Dean shook his head in denial, but his expression made it obvious that he believed every word spoken. John wasn’t sure what to think. He prayed that the creature was lying, that he himself had never said anything close to the words now spoken. But hadn’t Dean himself admitted that he’d been left alone often? If that part was true, then maybe the rest was as well. But how could any version of himself ever say such things? No, now was not the time to think about it. Now was the time to stop this torture and help his son.

“Dean, don’t listen to it, buddy.” He shouted.

“We’re here for you, baby.” Mary chimed in as they both walked right up to the table that their son was strapped to. 

John wrinkled his nose against the stench of blood and burned flesh. He tried not to see all the damage that was inflicted on the young man that his son had grown up to become. How anyone could survive this with their sanity intact was a mystery. Whatever that creature was, it was wrong. Dean wasn’t weak. He was definitely the strongest person that John had ever known. 

“Dean, this monster isn’t real. This is a memory, son. And you’re stronger than it.” John wanted to grab a hold of Dean and shake him back into reality but that wasn’t possible.

“You’re not in Hell anymore, sweetie. Castiel got you out. You’re back with us. Please come back to us.”

“Come on, Dean. You can do it.” John coaxed. Then he said something he was beginning to think that Dean had hardly ever heard come from his mouth. “I love you, buddy.”

A confused look replaced the agony on the young man’s face. He looked over at them and his eyes grew wide. “Dad? Mom?”

“Yes, we’re here.” Mary replied.

“I’m here as well, Dean.” Castiel spoke up, coming to stand behind them.

“Cas? But… but what…”

And that was apparently all that the angel needed. The creature that had been torturing Dean disappeared as did the straps holding their son down. As he sat up, the wounds on his body also vanished. John felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Mary stepped forwards and threw her arms around Dean. She held him tight as he sat on the table looking around the room. The young man leaned into his mother’s embrace as he shivered violently and blinked back tears. His eyes met John’s and then the father saw recognition flash through them as he figured everything out. 

Dean stiffened and pulled away a little, clearly uncomfortable with his mom hugging him while he was a barely dressed adult. When Mary stepped back, Dean hopped off the table and closed his eyes. Suddenly they were all standing in their living room and Dean was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, a dark blue flannel shirt, a leather jacket, and boots. He went from embarrassment to anger in the blink of an eye.

“What the freakin’ hell, Cas? Why did you bring my parents here? How did you even think that it was remotely okay to let them see that?”

“It was necessary, Dean.”

“Why? So that they could know that I… never mind. Just… I can’t…” Dean threw his hands up in frustration.

“Dean, Castiel couldn’t help you. You weren’t responding to him. He needed us to get through to you so that the memories would stop.” John explained.

“Oh.” There was an awkward pause. 

“I believe it was due to the trauma you suffered combined with how deeply you were engrossed in the nightmare.” Castiel added. “I figured that you would be able to sense your parents in your dream and then be able to recognize me as well. Once you did, I was able to help push away the memories.”

“And you’re sure this was the only way.” Dean challenged.

“Unless you wanted to remain in your nightmare.”

“Okay, yeah, not really an option. But still…” The young man looked over at John again. He seemed extremely embarrassed. 

“Son, it’s okay…”

“No, Dad, it’s not. You weren’t supposed to see that. Ever.”

“Dean…” Mary started only to be cut off.

“Not right now, Mom. I can’t… I can’t talk about this. Please.”

Mary nodded sadly. John wanted to press but he could tell that his son was about to break down and he couldn’t do that to him. Not after everything he’d just been through. So he nodded as well. Dean looked relieved.

John took a moment to study his grown up son. He definitely took more after Mary with looks. His hair was short and spiky, his skin pale and he still had some freckles. He was a good looking guy, lean and athletic. But his large, green eyes were haunted and it was no wonder considering all that he’d been through in his life. John had just seen a few seconds of the years that Dean had experienced in Hell and he felt as though he’d be haunted by it forever too. 

“So, what now?” Dean broke the silence that had fallen over the group.

“Now you wake up.” Mary stated. “The doctors are getting concerned.”

“Doctors? What happened?”

“We were hoping that you could tell us.” John informed him. 

“He won’t remember until he wakes.” Castiel piped up. “When I pushed back his memories, that also included the memory of the incident. Thinking on it too hard while in his dream may lead to his reliving it.”

“Well, let’s wake the hell up then.” Dean ordered. 

“Alright.” Castiel agreed.

And then the living room was replaced by the hospital room once more.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean opened his eyes and blinked against the harsh white lights. It took him only a few seconds to realize that he was in a hospital. His arm was throbbing and his head was splitting and all together he felt like crap. He turned his head to see his mom sitting next to him, holding his right hand. His father stood next to her and behind him was Cas. They were all looking at him with such pathetic looks on their faces that Dean assumed that he must have one foot in the grave. But then he remembered. They had seen him at his lowest. They had seen him in Hell. No wonder they were looking at him as though he were the most wretched thing on the face of the earth. Dean averted his gaze when he felt the tears welling in his eyes and he found Sammy sleeping on the bed next to him. He absently reached down to stroke the baby’s head. The little guy cooed and nuzzled into Dean. 

“Dean? Son?” It was his dad’s voice and it was filled with such concern that Dean felt sick to his stomach. His father had seen it. He’d seen how weak and pathetic Dean really was. Now he’d be disgusted with him all over again. Dean had known that their nice relationship over the past couple of weeks had been too good to last.

“How do you feel?” His mom asked. 

“’Kay.” It came out as a barely audible whisper. 

“Are you in pain?”

“No.” He lied.

“Liar.” His dad accused. “Let me ask this way; do you need me to call the doctor in?”

“No.” 

“What happened, Dean?” His mom questioned.

Dean closed his eyes as he tried to remember why he was lying in a hospital bed with his arm in a bright blue cast and his head feeling like it would fall off at any moment. He was at a party… he was playing hide and seek… he was in a room… then someone… Alastair! Alastair had threatened him, broke his arm, and thrown him from a window. And he said he’d be back for him. Alastair was going to capture him and torture him and break him all over again. No. No, he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t.

Dean felt his breaths become labored and dark spots began to dance in front of his eyes. He became lightheaded as visions of what the demon could do to him in this little body ran through his head. 

“Dean! Son, come on, you have to breathe. Calm down and take a deep breath or you’ll pass out, buddy.” Dean tried to figure out why his dad’s voice was coming to him from so far away. Hadn’t the man been right next to him?

“Baby, please calm down. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Dean tried to calm himself, he really did. But it was like trying to swim upstream through rapids. He felt his dad pull him into a sitting position and rub circles on his back while his mom ran her hand through his hair. They were both whispering reassurances to him. Then he looked up to see Cas standing by his bed too. The angel placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“We’ll keep you safe, Dean.” 

Dean nodded as he took a deep breath and felt the oxygen fill his lungs. The urge to pass out disappeared and the boy let out a sigh of relief. 

After a moment he looked up at his parents. They looked even more concerned now. Great. Just freakin’ great. Now they must really think him pathetic and useless. Once they helped him lie back down, Dean tried to act like the last minutes hadn’t happened.

“Demon. It was a demon. He possessed Robert’s dad and wanted to know about me. I didn’t tell him anything.”

His mother nodded, as though she’d expected at least part of the answer. “Robert said that he accidentally pushed you out the window, but I figured that he was lying. He must’ve been threatened into telling that story. What exactly did the demon want to know?”

“Just about why I was different. And how I got those weapons. He must’ve talked with Meg.” Dean answered, then he repeated almost defensively “I didn’t tell him anything.” He didn’t want his parents to think that he was completely useless.

“I know you didn’t, son.” His dad spoke up. “You’re too strong to give in to some lousy demon, huh?”

Dean looked to his dad in shock. Those were not words he ever expected to hear come from his dad’s mouth. Maybe the man was just humoring him? Either way, his dad was wrong. He’d given in to Alastair before and was terrified of what the outcome of their next encounter would be. 

“Yes, he is.” Cas nodded. 

“Never doubted that.” Dean’s mom agreed.

Dean gave them all a weak smile but his heart was filled with joy. They actually did seem sincere. Could it be that they saw him at his worst yet weren’t disgusted with him? The part of him that had spent years being abandoned by all those he cared about insisted that it couldn’t be true but another part of him was too busy feeling loved and accepted to doubt their words. Dean decided for the moment to try and ignore his insecurities and bask in the warmth of his family. After all, he’d lived through an encounter with Alastair and then was rescued from his memories of Hell. He deserved a break.

“So then, does the brave yet injured kid get a victory dinner? I’m thinking a burger, fries, milkshake, and pie.” Dean requested. 

“I think the hospital is serving dried out chicken with questionable vegetables.” His dad responded.

“Dude, and I thought I was out of Hell.” Dean muttered and smiled as his family laughed.


	21. Thanksgiving

Chapter Twenty-One: Thanksgiving

The slot car went around and around on the track as Dean sat on his bedroom floor and pressed the trigger of his toy. Sammy lay on his stomach next to his older brother, eyes wide and giggling as he watched the blue car pass him over and over again. Dean looked over at the baby and smiled.

“Wanna see something really cool, Sammy? Watch this.”

As the car was nearing the turn in the figure eight that was closest to Sammy, Dean pressed the trigger all the way down. The toy sped up and jumped the track, landing upside down just a half a foot away from the smallest Winchester. The baby squealed with joy. Dean laughed and raised his right hand into the air in a gesture of triumph. Sammy rolled onto his back and waved his chubby little arms around while staring up at Dean. The older boy laughed again.

“Now here’s a secret; real car crashes aren’t as fun. They kinda suck. And don’t repeat any of this or Mom’ll have my ass, ‘kay.”

Sammy just watched him while still smiling and started cooing and making little baby noises. 

“Yeah, you’re probably saying even worse things in that baby language of yours and laughing at all of us for thinking that you’re so innocent. But I’m onto you. I know who you grow up to be and you’re nothing but trouble hidden behind puppy dog eyes. So don’t think for a moment that I’m fooled.” 

Dean got to his feet, which wasn’t so easy with only one usable arm, and walked over to his nightstand. He picked up one of the photos he kept there and looked at the picture of a grown up Sam trying to retaliate for the water that Dean had poured over his head. The boy touched the long haired man’s face with a sad smile. He loved the fact that Sam would get another shot at a happier life, but sometimes he missed the brother he’d grown up with. 

“Dean?”

The young hunter turned his head to see his mom standing in the doorway. He hurriedly put the picture down.

“What’s up?”

“The parade is on. I thought you and Sammy might want to watch it.”

“Awesome.” Dean nodded and then regretted it. His head still bothered him if he moved it too fast. 

“Okay then. Let’s go.” His mom picked Sammy up off the floor and Dean followed her downstairs. 

When they reached the living room, the baby was placed in the playpen and Dean hopped up on the couch. The thanksgiving turkey was already in the oven and a lot of the prep work for the side dishes had been completed, so the whole family was gathered around the television. 

Dean sat in between his parents on the couch while Cas was sitting in Dean’s father’s chair, looking a bit unsure of himself. The angel was still getting used to living with the Winchesters. Seeing Cas helping to set the table, wash dishes, vacuum, and even watch Sammy was just priceless. Dean teased him every chance he got. 

 

“We should have some snacks to watch this.” His dad announced.

“Damned straight.” Dean agreed.

“Dean, language.” His mom scolded. “And no, we are not having snacks now. We’re going to be sitting down for dinner in just a couple of hours.”

“I’ll starve before then.” Dean’s father protested.

“It’s exceedingly unlikely that you’ll starve before the turkey has finished baking.” Cas pointed out. “As a matter of fact, since you went back and took another donut when Mary was out of the kitchen, you probably won’t even experience hunger for another two hours.”

Dean burst out laughing. “Cas, you’re awesome.”

“Thank you, Dean.” The angel responded without missing a beat.

“Sneaking donuts, huh?” His mother shook her head. “I knew I should’ve been suspicious when you volunteered to go check on the food.”

“I was hungry.” His dad defended himself, then turned to Cas. “And you need to learn to keep your mouth shut.”

“Don’t mind him.” Dean advised the angel. “He just hates getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

Now Cas looked confused. “The donuts weren’t kept in a cookie jar.”

“No they weren’t.” Dean confirmed with a laugh.

His friend seemed to realize that Dean had either been teasing or using an expression that he was unfamiliar with because he simply nodded and dropped the subject.

A little while later, Dean was sprawled out with his head on his mom’s lap and his feet on his dad’s. He was getting comfortable doing some typical kid stuff like that and wasn’t sure if that should concern him or not. It seemed that no one, not even himself, knew what age he really was anymore. He was still himself, that wasn’t gonna change, but he was having a hard time denying his four year old emotions and impulses. It took all he had not to request hugs from his parents, not to play with his toys, not to cry when he was upset, or jump up and down when he was excited. A normal child would just give in to those emotional responses, but Dean was not a kid. He was a man, damn it. Because he still wanted to hunt, drive the Impala, drink beer, and act strong and fearless. So where exactly did all this leave him? Confused as all hell, that’s where. And he could tell that his parents were struggling to figure out how to treat him, especially with his uncontrollable mood swings. But he figured that relaxing with his parents was an okay thing for any age.

And he really did enjoy being with them. Even if he was still trying to keep from them all the details of his encounter with Alastair. He still hadn’t told them the demon’s name or revealed that it was the same creature that they had seen torturing him in his memories of Hell. Another topic that he was avoiding like the plague. Dean knew that they were curious and that it was only a matter of time before they asked him questions directly but until that moment came, Dean was content to enjoy his time with them and ignore the gigantic elephant in the room.

“Dude, what the hell? Why do they have a Superman balloon but not Batman?” Dean grumbled.

“They are both comic book superheroes, are they not?” Cas asked. 

“Do not compare them, Cas. Batman is the definition of awesomeness while overgrown boy-scout Superman needs a dork like Jimmy freakin’ Olson to help fight his battles. And in a few years Supes is gonna grow his hair out girlishly long. ‘Sides, Batman gets it on with Catwoman while Superman is stuck with Lois Lane, who isn’t even that hot.”

“I don’t hear any of this.” Dean’s mom covered her ears as she scowled down at him.

Dean smiled his most innocent smile up at her. “What? We’re just discussing comics.”

She playfully smacked his right shoulder. “Sit up, trouble-maker. I’ve got to go take Tom Turkey out of the oven.”

“Eww! Can you please not name our food, Mom?”

“Do you need any assistance?” Cas offered.

“I got it, Cas.” Dean jumped up and followed his mom into the kitchen. The table was already set, so he didn’t have to worry about that. As his mother was taking the turkey out, Dean kicked his footstool over to the other end of the floor and used it to climb up to kneel on the counter. Then he opened a cabinet and took out a couple jars of baby food and placed them down next to his knees.

“Dean! Get off the counter!”

The boy jumped and would’ve fallen backwards and onto the floor if his mom hadn’t grabbed him. He hissed in pain as his bruised and sore back collided with her and his head got slightly jarred. His mother carefully stood him on the ground.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

Dean nodded and then regretted the action as his head swam a bit

“What were you thinking?” The concern evaporated under the heat of her anger. “You could’ve fallen and ended up back in the hospital. Is that what you want?”

Dean felt tears well up in his eyes. “I was just trying to help Sammy. I wanted him to have thanksgiving dinner too.” He pointed at the jars he’d taken out. One was turkey and green beans and the other was sweet potatoes. 

His mom’s anger melted away and she knelt down and pulled him into a gentle hug. “I know you’re used to taking care of Sam but please just let yourself be taken care of too. You should never climb up on the counter but especially not when you’re hurt. I don’t want anything more to happen to you, Dean.”

“Sorry.” Dean mumbled. And he was. He remembered all of the heart attacks that Sam had given him in his old life when he’d thought that his little brother was hurt or worse and suddenly realized that now he himself had people who gave a crap whether he was injured or not. It was a strange but nice feeling. 

“You’re forgiven. But please just go sit down and rest until dinner is served. You’re still recovering.”

Dean nodded and trudged back into the living room where his dad and Cas were trying to pretend that they hadn’t been eavesdropping on the whole incident. 

Thanksgiving dinner was beyond awesome. There was the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, yams baked with brown sugar, carrots, green bean casserole, homemade applesauce, and warm breadsticks. Dean tried to eat an adult-sized portion and failed miserably. And as he’d planned, he got Cas to try a little bit of all the food. Sammy willingly ate the sweet potatoes but spit up the turkey and green beans puree. One whiff of it and Dean had to admit that his baby brother had full reason to reject that crap. He offered the little guy some of the applesauce instead. 

Dean helped clear the table and then joined his dad in the living room where the oldest Winchester was watching the game. The boy wasn’t that interested in it, but was looking forwards to lying down on the couch.

His eyes closed and he almost dozed off when scenes of Hell began to seep into his consciousness. Dean sat straight up with a gasp. Nope. No naps for this kid.

“You okay, buddy?”

Dean forced a smile as he answered his dad. “Yeah. Just my stomach. Think I ate too much.”

He knew that his father wasn’t convinced but the man just nodded and smiled. “Me too.” Then he put an arm around the boy and pulled him to his side. They sat like that until they were called for dessert. 

Once again gathered around the table, the Winchesters dug into apple pie, pumpkin pie, banana nut bread, jello with mixed fruit, and chocolate chip cookies that Dean had helped his mom bake the previous day. The boy helped himself to the largest slice of apple pie and covered it with whipped cream. 

“I don’t understand how all of you can eat those desserts after the copious amount of food you had earlier.”

“Not just us, Cas.” Dean spoke around a mouthful of pie. “You too. You’re not leaving this table until you eat something. And a spoonful of jello or just one cookie won’t count.”

“Finish chewing before you talk.” His mom instructed.

“Why do you wish me to make myself as sick as you surely will be?” Cas inquired.

“Misery loves company.”

“You do not appear miserable. You seem very pleased.”

“I am.” Dean answered truthfully.

Years ago this Thanksgiving had sucked so incredibly bad. He’d been missing his mom terribly and his dad had drunk himself into unconsciousness. Dean still hadn’t been talking after the trauma of ‘that night’ and hadn’t done anything but feed Sammy some rice cereal and keep the baby as happy as possible. He himself hadn’t touched a bite of food all day. It was his first holiday in his new sad life and it had nearly killed him with grief. 

But now he sitting at the table with his family (and yep, that totally included Cas now), his stomach was full, and so was his heart. In that instant, Dean decided that he could live with the memories of his previous crappy life so long as he had moments like these to hold onto as well.


	22. Early Morning at the Winchesters'

Chapter Twenty-Two: Early Morning at the Winchesters’

Mary woke up with a gasp and looked at the clock. 5:26 am. Just great. She hadn’t been sleeping too well in the past week and a half, ever since getting a look at what her son had had to suffer through in Hell. When she closed her eyes, all she saw was him being tortured (sometimes he was an adult but the worst was when he looked like her little innocent four year old boy) and all she heard was the demon’s taunting words. Had her son really been abandoned by everyone in his life? And did he really believe that it was because he was weak and unwanted? The thought of it made her heart hurt. As did seeing a little bit of the physical torment he’d had to endure for years. She was still trying to get up the courage to ask Castiel how many years Dean had had to spend down there. She knew her son wouldn’t tell her and wasn’t even sure if she actually wanted to know.

Getting out of bed, Mary stretched her sore muscles and put on her robe. She left John to sleep for another hour before his alarm went off and walked down the hall. A quick peek showed both of her boys still sleeping and Castiel sitting with Dean. She often wondered what they did together in the dreams. She hoped that they were having fun.

Thanksgiving had been wonderful and she thanked God often for allowing her family the nice moments. She knew that there would be many struggles ahead and it had been nice to have such a perfect day. And the weekend after had been nice and relaxing as well. They had alternated between resting and spending time as a family and learning more about the supernatural and training. It was still a bit unnerving to have her four year old teaching her about hunting. But he knew so much lore and so many creature killing techniques that she had to let him run the show. Occasionally, she’d be able to add something to his lessons, but she’d been out of that life for so long and he had decades of experience. 

Mary was still deep in thought as she took her first sip of coffee. She knew what was coming. Dean and Castiel had been making good progress on their list of hunts that the Winchesters would have to complete and it was only a matter of time before their first ‘job’ came up. Mary had sworn off hunting and now it was back with a vengeance. And she’d have to share it with her husband and son. She’d tried to convince Dean to take a back seat but he’d refused and Castiel had backed him up. Dean knew this stuff in a way that Mary and John didn’t. The boy’s parents had argued that Dean could easily get killed on a hunt and he’d responded that so could they and he wasn’t going through that again. Finally, they’d reached an agreement where Dean would be allowed to go on the hunts but the adults would do the heavy lifting. And to avoid having to spend days on the road, Castiel would transport them to where they needed to go. The angel explained that doing so wouldn’t send up any red flags to the other angels like healing or exercising demons would. But if they were all going on the hunt, someone would need to watch Sam. And Dean said that he had the perfect candidate. John was supposed to call the man today.

It had now been about a month since the night that everything had changed. And she often wondered if she’d ever get used to this new definition of normal.

“Coffee at six in the morning? One of those days, huh?”

Mary looked up to see John walk into the room. 

“You’re up early.” Mary commented.

“Says the lady who’s been up long enough to brew coffee and almost finish a cup. Please tell me that’s just your first.” 

“Yes, it’s the first.”

“So, trouble sleeping?”

Mary sighed. “John, I just can’t forget what we saw. What Dean went through. I don’t know how he made it through years of that when I can’t even stand seeing it for a few minutes. And he won’t talk about it. He won’t talk about anything, really. Not about what happened at the birthday party. Not about his memories. How can we help him if we never know what’s going on in his head?”

“I don’t know. He does seem happy just being with us. Maybe that’s all he needs.”

“Ignoring a problem may make him temporarily happy but it won’t help in the long run.”

“And pressing him to talk about a traumatizing event will?” John countered.

“I don’t know! And it’s not like there are any parenting books on this kind of thing.” 

“Then we just keep trying to figure it out on our own. We don’t seem to be doing too badly. Dean actually seems a bit more relaxed than he did when this all started.”

“You think so?” Mary asked hopefully. She was really wanted her son to be as happy as he possibly could.

 

“Yeah, I do. And who wouldn’t with a mom like you.” John stood behind Mary and wrapped his arms around her. Then he gently kissed the top of her head. When she tilted her face up to see him, he captured her lips.

When they broke apart, Mary smiled at him. “Compliments and a kiss? What do you want?”

He laughed. “Nothing but you, honey.”

“Oh man, now I need to wash my brain out with soap. Get back to your room if you’re gonna start that stuff.” Dean hid his face behind his hands as he entered the room. “And just so you know, I don’t want any more siblings.” 

“Trust me, we have enough to deal with with the kids that we already have.” John replied.

Dean hopped up into the chair across from them. “You just know that no other child could come anywhere near the perfection of your first.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “What are you doing up now?”

“I told Cas that I wanted to get up a bit earlier today. Thought we could go over a bit more stuff before Dad made the call today.”

“I thought I was going to be calling Mr. Singer after I got home from work.” 

“Yeah, first thing; don’t call him Mr. Singer. He’s Bobby. And he’ll be up so you can call him before you leave.”

“And you think he’s going to help us?” Mary questioned.

“I know he will. He helped us out a lot the first time around. And before you ask, he can be trusted to keep an eye on Sammy if we have to drop him somewhere for a hunt. Bobby watched the two of us all the time.”

“He’s not yet the man you knew, Dean.” John reminded him. If Mary didn’t know any better, she’d swear that her husband sounded slightly jealous of the way their son spoke about this Bobby person.

“I know that, Dad. But I still know him. We met him when I was little the first time around.”

“Why don’t you tell us more about him?” Mary suggested. “We don’t know him like you do.”

“He started hunting ‘cause his wife got killed. It was a demon.” The boy seemed a bit uncomfortable discussing that part of his old friend’s life. “He runs an auto salvage yard. Good mechanic. He has a ton of books and stuff about anything supernatural that you could think of. Well, he has less now then he will later on but still…” Dean shrugged. “Other hunters consult him a lot for info or just to get jobs. Oh, and he backs up cover stories. He’s a little gruff and crude but he’s really a great guy.”

“So what do I say when I call?” John asked.

“Just tell him that you’re a hunter and that you need to see him right away. Tell him that you could be there on Saturday. Don’t mention anything about me or an angel yet. He’ll just think you’re nuts and hang up. After threatening you. But if you just say that you need some help and that you wanna talk face to face, everything’ll be fine.”

“Well, why don’t we have some breakfast first?” Mary suggested.

Just the, they heard Sam crying. Mary went to get up but the cries were getting closer which meant that Castiel had already picked the baby up and was bringing him downstairs. Dean jumped up and started off into the living room.

“I’ll feed him if someone brings me his bottle.” The boy called over his shoulder.

Mary went into the kitchen and prepared a bottle of baby formula. John followed her to get himself some coffee. As she mixed the drink, she heard Sam stop crying and even heard a little giggling. It never ceased to amaze her just how good Dean was with the baby. She knew he had lots of practice and that he really loved his little brother. Sometimes it scared her though to know that Dean would sell his soul for the younger boy. It was a selfless act that, while admirable, Mary would have to convince Dean was just not acceptable to do ever again. She had to get him to see that his life was worth just as much as his brother’s. 

When she entered the living room, she saw Dean kneeling on the floor, holding Sam’s rattle up in his right hand. She tried not to stare at the blue cast that his left arm was still encased in. The sight of it still upset her. Then she realized what Dean was doing.

“John, get in here.” She loudly whispered.

She sensed her husband come up behind her as her eyes remained glued to the scene playing out in the room. Dean shook the rattle as Sammy lay on the floor on his belly and watched the blue and red toy. He reached a hand out to it, but the older boy was a few feet away. 

“C’mon, Sammy.” Dean coaxed. “You can do it. Get the rattle.”

Sammy wiggled a little and let out a tiny sound of frustration.

“Hey, bitching at it won’t help. You gotta crawl, Sammy. You can do it. Crawl.”

The baby propped himself up on his elbows and pushed forwards with his knees. He fell face first onto the floor. Dean snorted.

“You can do better than that.”

Mary held her breath as she watched Sam scoot his knees under himself again and reach an arm out. His back half was not completely off the ground as he dragged himself forwards and moved his left leg. Then his right. It wasn’t pretty, but it was definitely some form of crawling. Mary clapped her hands at the same time that Dean cheered.

“Alright, Sammy! Locomotion, dude. Nothing can stop you now.” 

John walked past her and knelt down next to Sam. “Great job, Sammy!”

“He has a great teacher.” Mary stated, ruffling Dean’s hair.

“Crawling at seven months old. You beat your last record, Sammy.” Dean praised the baby.

“When did he crawl last time?” Mary asked. It was weird hearing information like that but she couldn’t help herself.

“He was almost eight months old. I didn’t really work with him as much as I should’ve been.”

“You were only a kid, Dean. It’s amazing that you were able to teach him at all with all the stuff going on then.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

John picked Sam up and looked at him. “You really are lucky, Sammy. You got yourself the best big brother in the world.”

“You did awesome, Sammy.” Dean seemed uncomfortable with the compliment.

“You know, you were crawling before you turned six months old.” Mary informed him.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you were a handful right from the start.”

John chuckled. “And you did the same ‘commando crawl’ that Sammy just did.”

“Must be all those Marine genetics.” Dean responded. “We were born ready for boot camp.”

“Well, now I’m ready for some grub.” John replied.

“I’ll make the pancakes.” Mary offered, going back into the kitchen. 

After breakfast, Mary cleaned up the table with Castiel’s help while Dean went back into the living room with Sammy and John called Bobby. She knew that Dean had wanted to be the one to call, but there was no way that a hunter would take a little boy seriously. As she washed the plates, Mary listened in on John’s side of the conversation.

“Hello? Uh, is this Bobby Singer… Yes, hi… no, I’m not selling anything… no… I’m a hunter… that’s not important… uh, no… look, I need some help… no, it’s very important… trust me, going to the library isn’t going to help… I need a face to face… you wouldn’t believe me… I said… look, I’m coming over on Saturday whether you like it or not because it’s just that important… yeah, I have a gun too.” John hung up the phone. “And Dean thinks this guy can help us?”

“Maybe we just need to get to know him.” Mary suggested. “He’s obviously important to Dean and I think that’s reason enough to give him a chance.”

“He was a good ally and a great friend to Dean.” Castiel informed them.

“Fine. But if he does pull out a shotgun, all bets are off.”

Mary smiled and kissed him on the cheek. She wasn’t sure if she was looking forward to Saturday or not. On one hand, it would be nice to meet someone who meant so much to her son. But on the other hand, it sounded like her husband and this man just might kill each other.


	23. A Very Strange Family

Chapter Twenty-Three: A Very Strange Family 

Bobby Singer poured a bit more liquor into his morning coffee before taking a large gulp. It burned in more ways than one as it traveled down his throat and settled in his stomach. Damn, but it felt good. 

He’d been up half the night researching for one hunter and now another was going to show up at his door later today. One who refused to identify himself or even say what he wanted. To say that he was suspicious was the biggest damned understatement ever. But then again, hunters weren’t known to be the most trusting fellows out there, so it was probably just a case of the new guy being paranoid. Either way, Bobby was ready. And so was his holy water and silver.

He’d been keeping an ear out for any cars coming down the driveway, so when he heard one he immediately went to the window and looked out. A black Chevy Impala was just parking in front of his house. Well, at least the hunter had nice taste in cars. It seemed to be well kept too. Bobby was waiting for the driver to get out so he could get his first look at the man when the backdoor was flung open. A boy jumped out and then turned around to say something to whoever else was in the car. The child couldn’t’ve been older than four or five. What the hell was this dumbass hunter thinking, bringing a kid with him? Then a man got out of the driver’s seat and turned to say something to the boy. The man did not look like most hunters that Bobby had encountered. Sure, he held himself like he’d seen his fair share of fights, but there was something… green about him. Then both passenger side doors opened. A woman got out from the front and a man in a tan trench coat climbed out of the back. Did this joker bring his entire family to this meeting? Well, apparently so, because the woman walked to the back and took out a baby. Bobby shook his head. Idjits.

The hunter went to his door and opened it as the family was approaching. The little boy looked up at him and a smile lit up his face. Bobby had only a moment to study the child when the little guy became a blur of motion. Before the man had a chance to react, the boy had plowed into him and wrapped an arm around him. Startled, Bobby just stood there looking down at the rest of the family. 

“Dean!” The driver scolded.

The boy stepped back and immediately looked embarrassed. “Sorry.” He mumbled. 

Bobby sent a questioning look to the other man.

“Sorry about that. He’s… uh, overly affectionate.”

Bobby looked back down at the boy. He was small and thin with short spiky dark blonde hair. He was a cute child, with a small, freckled nose and large green eyes. There was something slightly unnerving about those eyes, though. He looked far too intelligent and seasoned for a kid and he was looking at Bobby with a look that somehow held both joy and sorrow. Then the hunter noticed that Dean’s left arm was not through the sleeve of the jacket but instead encased in a blue plaster cast and being held up by a sling. Bobby immediately guessed that whatever this family was here for, it revolved around this boy. 

He looked back up at the man who’d climbed out of the driver’s seat. “And you are?”

“John Winchester.” He extended a hand. Bobby pulled the flask from his pocket and poured holy water on the man. When nothing happened except for the man jerking his hand back in surprise, Bobby shrugged. 

“What ‘bout the rest of ya?”

“I’m Mary, his wife.” The woman announced and held her hand out palm up. Bobby tested her too. Nothing. “These are our sons, Dean and Sam. And this is… my brother, Cas.”

Bobby looked at the man in the trench coat. There was something off about him too but in a completely different way than the boy. Bobby splashed the man right in the face with the holy water. He blinked his very blue eyes and wiped the water away. Okay, not a demon but still, Bobby had a built in BS detector and it was going off big time. Her brother his ass. But he wasn’t going to press on it yet. 

“Winchester… never heard of ya.”

“I’m new to the scene.”

“I’m not.” The woman, Mary, commented. “Maiden name Campbell. But my family didn’t work much with other hunters. My dad was Samuel.”

The name was vaguely familiar, as though he’d heard it somewhere along the way. “Well, since yer all clean, c’mon in.” He stepped back allowing the strange family in. 

“You didn’t check me.” Dean pointed out. “Demons can possess kids too.”

Bobby nodded. Stupid of him not to check. He poured the holy water on the boy’s good hand and was unsurprised when nothing happened. Then he led the Winchesters over to his couch. They got their coats off and all sat down, except for Cas who stood behind them. Mary held the baby in her arms and Dean was in between his parents.

“So, what can I do fer ya?”

They all exchanged a look and Bobby knew he was about to only get half-truths.

“We were attacked in our home a month ago by a demon.” John started. “It was in Sammy’s nursery and Mary killed it.”

“Ya can’t kill a demon.” Bobby informed them. Idjits obviously weren’t well informed.

“We have a weapon that can.” Mary stated, casting a glance down at Dean. Bobby wondered what she was talking about and why she looked at the child like that. Before he could ask, she continued. “I’d met this demon, Azazel, years ago, right before I quit hunting. He made a deal with me but not for my soul. He just said he’d need to visit me in ten years. But when he did show, I killed him. And then two other demons claiming to be Azazel’s children attacked us the next morning. We killed one and the other got away. A few weeks later another demon possessed one of our neighbors at a birthday party and went after Dean. He hurt our son badly and then escaped. I contacted the man who’d been possessed the next day and he claimed not to remember anything, but he seemed shaken. I think the demon threatened him into silence. Either way, I’m getting back into hunting.”

“And I’m joining her.” John insisted.

Cas nodded as well.

Bobby looked back to Dean. The boy had survived a demon attack. Maybe that explained a little but there was something more to the story. Bobby knew it. 

“The demon that attacked yer boy at the party. Is it related to that Azazel guy too?”

The Winchester parents looked at Dean. Dean shook his head but didn’t say a word. That there was another story that Bobby wasn’t getting. But this time it seemed that the boy was the only one who knew the truth. 

“Ya know what Azazel wanted at yer home?”

“He wanted to bleed into Sammy’s mouth.” Dean spoke up. “He wanted to infect kids so that they’d grow to have special powers. He had big plans for them. But we didn’t give him a chance.”

“You seem to know a lot ‘bout this.” Bobby commented.

“I do.”

And there it was again. That unnerving look in the boy’s eyes. But Bobby felt drawn to him somehow. 

“And how?”

“That’s not important.” John broke in.

“If ya want my help, then every damned thing is important. Yer family’s got demons after them. This ain’t the time to be playin’ it close to yer chest.”

“Look, a lot is going on right now.” Mary interrupted. “We’re all just adjusting to this craziness.”

Bobby looked at them skeptically. Then he turned his attention to Cas. “What ‘bout you? Do ya even talk?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “Well, don’t tire yerself out with the speeches.” Bobby muttered. “So, whaddya want from me?”

They all exchanged looks again. “A few things.” John answered. “First off, if you get any information about demonic omens, I mean strong ones, we’d appreciate a head’s up. Second, we may call from time to time with information about hunts that we can’t take. I understand that you know other hunters and can give out jobs to them.”

“And how do you find out ‘bout the hunts?” 

“We just do.” 

Bobby was getting damned tired of all the cryptic crap. “Well, ain’t that nice fer you. If that’s the only answer you can pull outta yer ass, then you can shove it back up in there and get out of my goddamn house.”

“Hey, watch the language in front of the children!” Mary snapped, while Dean chuckled.

Bobby shrugged. “Yer the ones who brought little ones to the grown ups’ meeting.”

“Dad, we should tell him…”

“Dean, we talked about this.”

“But, Dad…”

“No.” John turned his attention back to Bobby. “We can’t give you all the details, but I can tell you that if you work with us, many lives can be saved.”

“That’s a crap answer and ya know it.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

“Dude, stow the pissing contest already!” Dean yelled. “We gotta cut the crap and all work together, okay?”

“And she says that _I_ gotta watch _my_ language.” Bobby commented. He found himself studying the kid once again. He didn’t talk much like a small child. Nor did he carry himself like one. Not even like one who’d encountered demons and lived to tell the tale. There was a one hellava story there. 

“Dean is correct.” Cas spoke up. “We can all benefit from cooperation.”

“Tell me one thing and I don’t want no BS. How did you kill demons? What weapon you got that can do that?”

“We have the Colt.” Dean answered. “Well, not _the_ Colt but one just like it. And before you say anything, I know that there’s only supposed to be one but trust me that this one does the job. Oh, and we got a knife that ganks ‘em too.”

“Yer serious?”

“Completely.”

“Alright.”

John turned to him in surprise. “You believe us just like that?”

“Yep. Seems the boy’s the only one outta the lot of ya that ain’t tryin’ ta play hide and seek with the truth.’

“Can we not mention that game?” Dean’s voice was barely above a whisper and was filled with too much pain.

There was an awkward silence that followed his statement. Then Bobby cleared his throat. “So, ya got any hunts comin’ up soon?”

“Well, we’re still figuring out everything.” Mary replied. “This was just mostly to meet with you and discuss how things were going to be handled. We were told by someone we trust that you were the person to come to.”

“Who toldja that?”

“Can’t say.” John responded.

“Why don’t that surprise me?” Bobby really wanted to show this family to the door and let it hit John’s ass on his way out but something about them was stopping him. Sure part of it was because if they really had information that could save lives, then they were worth a little aggravation. But another part was Dean. Bobby spent many days regretting not having kids of his own. He’d been stupid and had lost his wife before he could pull his head outta his ass and change his mind. Now it was too late. But one look at this boy told Bobby that he needed help. Yeah, he had his family but Bobby couldn’t shake the feeling that this kid was also looking to him for something too. There was something incredibly special about this child and the hunter just couldn’t turn his back on him. “Fine. Let’s hash out the details of an arrangement then.”

The bright smile on Dean’s face let him know that it was the right choice.

“Thank you.” Mary seemed relieved. In her arms, the little baby boy made a gurgling noise and grabbed at her hair.

John nodded his head. “Well, we wrote down all the information we have on Azazel and the other demons that showed up. I’d like to pass it on to you just in case you find out any more information or locate any omens.”

“Sure, I’ll take a look.” Bobby agreed.

John reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. As he did so, a business card fell on the ground. Dean reached down with his good arm and grabbed it. The boy took a look at it and then his face instantly drained of color. 

“Alastair?” He whispered. He began to tremble uncontrollably. Then the child looked up at his dad. “When did you… how…”

The father took the card. “This guy approached me in the bar. It was right after that night and he said he could help. I forgot I even had the card. Why?”

“You spoke with him?” Now the boy seemed trapped between fear and anger. “You were going to send me to see Alastair? Why? Why would you… oh, God… no… I can’t…” Now Dean was hyperventilating and tears were gathering in his eyes. John reached a hand out to place it on the child’s shoulder, but the kid pulled away. “Leave me alone! Don’t touch me! Nobody touch me!” He looked around, completely panicked and Bobby got the feeling that he was no longer seeing the messy room but was somewhere else all together. Then, without warning, the boy took off to the front door. It slammed shut behind him as all the adults looked on in shock.

“Balls!” Bobby exclaimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that don't remember, Alastair approached John in a bar back in chapter 13, pretending to run a daycare for traumatized children and handed John that business card. John never spoke of that meeting. And Dean has never mentioned Alastair's name to his parents.


	24. The Whole Story

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Whole Story

John sat in stunned silence for a moment as his son ran out the front door of Bobby Singer’s house. What the hell had just happened? Sure, he expected that Dean would be upset if he ever found out that John had contemplated sending him to a daycare run by a child psychologist, but that was a severe overreaction. 

John got up to follow Dean but then Castiel was there blocking his way.

“Let me see that.” The angel pointed to the card in his hand. John gave it to him and Castiel looked it over. “Bobby, go retrieve Dean.”

“What?” John yelled. “No way. I’m going to go get my son.”

“He won’t wish to talk with you right now. It’s not your fault but this is not a good turn of events. Bobby can take care of Dean while I tell you what you need to know about Alastair.”

“You mean you know something about this psychologist?”

“You wanted to send Dean to a psychologist?” Mary asked.

“That was before I realized the truth.” John defended. 

Castiel interrupted them. “What is important now is that Bobby goes to Dean and we talk.”

John watched as Bobby started off towards the door. “Ya sure he ain’t just gonna run from me?” The other man questioned.

“He may at first. But when he realizes who you are, he’ll calm down.” The angel responded.

Once Bobby had left, Castiel turned back to John and Mary. John crossed his arms. “So what the hell is going on?”

“Alastair is a demon.”

“What?”

“He’s a demon. And not just any demon. He is one of Hell’s most feared demons. He is high up in the hierarchy and very powerful. His specialty is torturing and breaking souls.”

John got a sick feeling in his stomach. “And Dean…”

“Was one of Alastair’s victims.”

“Oh, God.” Mary gasped.

“Alastair is the one you saw in Dean’s memory of Hell. He was charged with torturing your son and did so for decades.”

“How… how long was Dean there?” Mary questioned.

“Forty years.”

John found that he just couldn’t wrap his head around that. Dean hadn’t even been thirty when he’d sold his soul. Which meant that John’s son had spent more time in Hell than he’d spent on earth. “But… no. How did Dean even survive that intact?”

“He didn’t. Alastair broke him. That is why he reacted that way upon seeing his name. If the demon got his hands on Dean in this small body…” Castiel trailed off. No one wanted him to complete that thought. 

After a moment, John asked a question that he really didn’t want an answer to. “What do you mean that he ‘broke’ Dean?”

“Your son would never forgive me for answering that. Perhaps one day he’ll tell you himself. I only mentioned it to let you know just how severe the damage Alastair inflicted upon Dean was.”

“I didn’t know.” John was stricken by the thought that he’d come so close to handing his boy over to the monster that had tortured and tormented him for forty years. 

“There is no way you could have.” Castiel assured him. 

“But what does he want with Dean now?” Mary wanted to know.

“Yeah, it’s not like he could know about Dean being to Hell.” John added.

“No. But he’s been called on before to fix problems when something goes wrong. When Dean stopped the predestined events that night, it put a stop to Hell’s plans. The demons must be trying to figure out what went wrong and put things back on track.”

“And they’re interested in Dean?”

“One look at him and Meg knew that there was something different about him. That makes him the most logical place to start.”

“Then we keep him safe.” John stated. “We won’t let this Alastair bastard get his hands on Dean.” 

John couldn’t even bear the thought of that demon getting its hands on his son. He’d seen more than enough in Dean’s memories. Dean had been physically and mentally tortured so terribly. And what made it worse was the fact that the demon had used things that the other version of John himself had said and done against his son. Had it not been for Dean changing their futures, John would apparently now be well on his way to helping to destroy Dean’s self-esteem. He was beginning to see that his boy didn’t think much of himself and it all stemmed from the way he’d been raised. John knew that it was ridiculous to be angry with himself for something he’d never even done, but he’d give anything to be able to make things right for Dean. And he’d start by making damned sure that Alastair didn’t even get a chance to lay his hands or even his eyes on the child.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. He didn’t know why he was running, what he was running from, or even where he was running to. But he just kept running. 

One moment he was in the Singer Auto Salvage yard, trying to escape from his father who somehow knew Alastair and was going to send him to a daycare run by that monster. The next moment found him lost in Hell with the demon hot on his trail. And then he was back outside of Bobby’s house but was still convinced that he was fleeing from Alastair. Dean didn’t know which reality was real but all of them required him to run.

His lungs began to burn in the cold air but he fought the urge to slow down. Dean pushed his small body faster and faster until his foot caught on some scrap metal on the ground and he went down.

“Son of a bitch!” He exclaimed. Dean tried to pull himself back to his feet but his leg was hurting and his left arm was useless in its sling and he was just so tired. It took him a few tries to stand back up. By the time he did, it was too late. Dean heard footsteps right behind him.

“Dean?”

“No!” Dean cried out and went to start running again. He had to escape from Alastair. He didn’t want to be cut, and sliced, and beat, and torn, and burned by that sadistic monster ever again. 

“Slow down, boy.”

A hand grasped his right shoulder. The demon had grabbed him! Dean spun around and became a blur of fists, feet, elbows, knees, and teeth as he desperately fought the creature off. Alastair wouldn’t get him without a fight. 

“Hey, hey! Easy! Kid, I’m tryin’ ta help ya.”

“Keep away from me, Alastair! You aren’t getting me back! I’m not going back! I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch! Get the hell away from me and my family or I swear you’ll regret it!”

“I ain’t Alastair, Dean. Stop fightin’ and take a look. It’s just me. It’s Bobby.”

“Bobby?” Dean was a little wary but the voice sure as hell didn’t sound like Alastair. With equal parts fear and hope, the boy stopped thrashing and stared at the man who was before him. “Bobby!” Dean wrapped his good arm around the man and held on for dear life. He felt tears streaming down his face but didn’t have the energy to wipe them away. He leaned into his old friend and let himself silently cry. Bobby hugged him back and somehow shifted them so that they were both sitting, Bobby on the ground and Dean in his lap. After a few minutes, Dean felt like he had control over his runaway emotions once again. He looked up at the man and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Ya damned well better be, boy. Ya got one helluva punch and those baby teeth are awfully sharp. Ya mind tellin’ me what that was all ‘bout?”

“I… I panicked.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious. But why? Somethin’ ain’t right with ya, boy, and we both know it. So what’s yer story?”

Dean licked his lips as he contemplated what to say. He’d wanted to tell Bobby the truth from the start but he’d been shot down. But the man deserved to know. Besides, Bobby was no idiot and they couldn’t keep feeding him lies and half-truths forever if they wanted his help. 

“I’ll tell you my story. My whole story. But you gotta let me talk, ‘kay? No interruptions and you have to try and believe me no matter how crazy this all sounds. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Azazel came to our house on November 2nd, 1983. He bled into my brother’s mouth and then killed my mom when she ran into the nursery. Dad, Sammy, and me escaped as our house burned. Dad found out about the supernatural and became a hunter. He raised Sammy and me to be hunters too. We had no home but the Impala and we traveled the country. Then we met a hunter called Bobby Singer who helped us out. You cussed Dad out the first time you guys met for him dragging his kids into this life but still we all got along and Dad trusted you with us. He’d sometimes leave us here for weeks while he’d be on hunts in the area. I loved my dad and I know he did his best but he wasn’t always there for us. You were. Hell, when we were kids we’d call you ‘Uncle Bobby’. But then we grew up. And Azazel killed Dad. And then Sammy died. I sold my soul to bring him back. You chewed my ass out for it when you found out.” Dean let out a small humorless laugh “You and Sammy tried for a year to get me outta the deal but there was no way out. When my time was up, the hellhounds came for me and I was dragged to Hell. That’s where I encountered Alastair.” At this point, the boy’s voice wavered but he took a deep breath and continued. “He’s a demon. Hell, he’s the demon that other demons are afraid of. Hell’s number one torturer. Alastair took me apart for years down there. You see, it was only four months up here but down in the pit time works differently. I was there for a long time before I was pulled out. And this was the first place I came after I got back. After making sure that I wasn’t a demon or a shifter, you helped me track down Sammy and we eventually discovered that an angel had rescued me. His name is Castiel. And yeah, that’s Cas. Anyway, after that we all got pulled into a war between Heaven and Hell. It was rough. And I gotta admit that I kept finding excuses for Sammy and me to drop by your house. It was kinda like coming home. But then things went from bad to worse and… and you died. You got shot in the head by a monster and I thought I was going to die too. I _wanted_ to die some days. You tried to hang around as a ghost but it didn’t work out too well and I had to lose you again. After that, things were hard. And then came the day where I lost everyone but Cas. I was dying too. And then Cas, he figured out how to fix everything. He brought me back here into my four year old body on November 2nd, 1983 and I helped save my mom and kill Azazel.” 

Bobby looked down at him. “So, that’s yer story?”

“Yeah. And now I’m here and I’m four but I’m also thirty and I’m not sure what’s gonna happen next. I’m trying to hold together and be strong and not be a burden on my parents with all my crap but I can’t forget the stuff that happened before and now I got these damned kiddie emotions that I don’t know how to handle. But I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not gonna let you die again. I’m not losin’ anyone this time. No freakin’ way. I may be a complete screw up, but this is one thing I’ll get right.”

“I don’t wanna ever hear ya talk like that again, you hear me boy?”

“Bobby?”

‘Ya ain’t a screw up. I’ve known ya just a couple hours and I could tell ya that. Ya sound like a damned hero ta me, Dean. And I know yer parents’ll agree. Ya may be a damned idgit fer sellin’ yer soul but I ain’t seen or heard nothin’ that’d make me think ya screwed anythin’ up. So you keep yer damned mouth shut if ya think of sayin’ that crap again. Got it?”

Dean nodded. “So… you believe me?”

“Look in yer eyes, how can I not? It’s one crazy story, but ya believe every word ya said. So either yer tellin’ the truth or we’re both asylum bound.”

“Thanks.” After a moment, Dean stood up and shifted uncomfortably. “So… what now?”

“Now we get our asses back inside ‘fore we freeze ‘em off.”

“But…” Dean wasn’t so sure about going back in.

“Use yer head, boy. If yer daddy knew that Alastair was a demon who tortured you, ya think he’d send ya ta see him?”

“I guess not.” Dean chewed his lip. With the panic receding, he realized that he’d never mentioned the name Alastair around his parents. “But still, it means my dad was gonna ship me off to some head shrinker.”

“Yeah, well, yer story is a bit out there and yer daddy seems like a hard ass, so it ain’t surprising. But looks like everything’s fine with you two now, right?”

Dean nodded. He was beginning to feel a bit foolish for overreacting. Bobby put his arm around the boy and the two of them started to walk back to the house. Dean let out a small gasp of pain and looked down at his leg. The pants were torn just under the right knee and when he looked under the denim he saw blood leaking from a cut. Bobby crouched down to take a look.

“It ain’t nothin’ more than a scratch but we’re gonna hafta clean that out or you’re libel ta get yerself tetanus or some crap like that. But don’t be thinkin’ that I’m gonna carry yer ass back into the house. You can walk.”

“Like you’d even be able to lift me, old man.”

“Old man, huh? I’ll show ya old.” Bobby stood and playfully wrapped an arm around Dean’s neck. The boy laughed.

When they made it back into Bobby’s home, Dean was met with four sets of eyes staring at him. Yep, even little Sammy was looking. He shuffled his feet nervously. 

“Sorry for running off.”

“Come here.” His dad ordered, an edge to his voice.

Dean winced but did as he was told. As soon as he was within an arm’s reach of his father, the man grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. 

“I didn’t know, Dean. I didn’t know. I’d never let you get hurt, son.”

“I know.” Dean acknowledged. “It’s my fault. I should’ve told you ‘bout Alastair.”

“Castiel told us about him just now. And it’s clear that he’s looking for you for some reason. But I won’t let him get you, Dean.”

“Too late.” Dean admitted. “Alastair was the demon who attacked me at the party. He wanted to know why I’m different and where I got the weapons. When I refused to tell him anything, he broke my arm. He knew that he didn’t have much time before someone came looking for me, but he… he said he’s gonna take me somewhere next time to be alone with him. He’s going to torture me again.” Dean fought against the damned waterworks that wanted to start up again. 

“No, he won’t.” Dean had been looking at his feet but his head snapped up upon hearing the tone in his dad’s voice. “That bastard won’t ever lay a finger on you again.”

Dean wanted to believe him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” His mom asked.

“I didn’t want to talk about it. And I also didn’t want to drag you guys into my problems. Alastair is a monster and I wanted to protect you from him.”

“How you plannin’ to protect anyone if ya don’t live ta do it?” Bobby questioned.

“We’re a family, Dean.” His mom placed a hand on his cheek. “We all look out for each other. And we can’t do that if we’re keeping secrets.”

“Says the family that fed me a bowl fulla crap ‘bout their lives.”

As his parents looked to Bobby, Dean shrugged. “I told him the truth. He needs to know. He’s a part of this screwed up family too. A wise man once said that family don’t end with blood.”

“If Alastair has already made a move, then Hell is more desperate to get their plans back on track than we thought.” Cas spoke up. 

“Well, the Winchester clan is growing, so I say bring ‘em on.” Dean declared feeling like his old self again. He was tired of being scared and was ready to fight. “We’ll show them a new meaning of Hell. Together.”


	25. Dreams and Coffee

Chapter Twenty-Five: Dreams and Coffee

It was way past Dean’s typical bedtime, but the young hunter was sitting on Bobby’s couch looking through the back pages of John Winchester’s journal. Those were the pages that Dean himself had written in. He was trying to put together what the demons could possibly be planning to put the apocalypse back on track. He rubbed at his tired eyes before making another notation. With Azazel out of the picture and Sammy past the six month mark (which for some reason had special significance) it seemed that Dean’s baby brother would never be able to follow his ‘destiny’. No going darkside, no drinking demon blood, no killing Lilith, and no being a super strong Luci-vessel. Also, if Azazel’s soldier-boy never kills Sam, Dean wouldn’t have to sell his soul, so no ‘righteous man’ breaking the first seal. The demons would sure have to get creative about a plan B.

“You should attempt to get to sleep soon.” 

“I will, Cas.” Dean replied. “Just another few minutes.”

“Added to all the rest of the ‘another few minutes’ you’ve asked for tonight, you’ll never get any rest.”

“I know.” Dean looked up at the angel. “It’s just… if the crap’s gonna hit the fan any time soon, I need a clue as to what’s coming so I can keep my family safe. But I just can’t figure out what they could possibly do at this point.”

“I don’t think they know any more than you do, Dean. If Alastair is trying to interrogate you, then they too are only at the information gathering stage.”

“Yeah, well, he shows up again, he’s gonna get a Colt bullet in his ass.”

“I don’t think a shot there would kill him.”

“Really, Cas?” Dean shook his head. 

“You do know that you won’t be able to shoot anyone’s rear end if you don’t get rest.”

“And we’re back to this again?” Dean went to laugh but ended up yawning instead which only served to prove Cas’ point. “Fine, let’s do it.”

Tossing the journal down on the floor, Dean stretched out on the couch leaving enough room for Cas to sit by his head. The angel sat down and placed his hand on the boy’s head. Dean felt sleep creeping in on him and didn’t bother to fight it.

Moments later, Dean pulled the Impala up in front of a cozy looking diner. He got out of the driver’s seat as Cas climbed out the other side. They’d spent the previous night just driving around, since in his dreams he was once again old enough to have a driver’s license, but tonight he wanted a huge greasy burger, fries, onion rings and a nice cold beer. Oh, and pie of course.

He strolled into the diner and took a seat. Cas sat across from him. 

“A diner? Why did you choose to come here? Can’t you eat this food outside of a dream as well?”

“Yeah, well, in the real world, when my parents and I go out to eat, I’m stuck ordering from the freakin’ kids’ menu.”

Just then a super hot waitress in a short skirt and tight shirt walked over to their table with a tray. She placed a plate overflowing with food in front of Dean followed by a beer bottle and a whole apple pie. Then she served Cas as well before winking at Dean and walking away. Dean watched her go before turning back to his friend. 

“Dig in, Cas. And don’t give me that ‘I’m an angel, I don’t need to eat’ crap. I’m dreaming, so technically I don’t need the food right now either. It’s simply about the enjoyment.”

Cas carefully picked up his bacon cheeseburger with extra onions and took a bite. Dean snickered as half the toppings slipped out the back of the bun, dripping down the angel’s hands and landing on the table. The hunter then took a huge bite of his, holding the burger in such a way to avoid the same thing happening to him. 

“It’s not bad.” Cas commented.

“Not bad? Dude, this is the best burger you will ever taste. My dream, so I made sure of it.” Dean placed the sandwich down and took a long pull of his beer. Being an adult in his dreams sure had its perks. “So, I was thinking, we can set up a trap for Alastair. I mean, we already know that he’ll be back for me at some point. So we prepare and kick the demonic son of a bitch in the ass when he shows his ugly face.”

“We don’t know when he’ll be back.” Cas pointed out.

“We can find a way to lure him out.” Dean suggested.

“The only thing that we know he wants is you. And it’s a very bad idea to use you as bait.”

“I personally think it’s a great idea.” A familiar voice commented.

Dean looked up to see Alastair standing right next to his table looking like he had years ago (yet still many years into the future) when the hunter had been pressed into torturing the demon. Dean went to get up, but Alastair grabbed him by his throat and pulled him up. His feet dangled in the air as he gasped for breath. 

“Dean!” Cas cried out. “It’s not really Alastair!”

“Sure… looks… like… him.” Dean managed to choke out.

“Of course it’s me, Dean. Haven’t you missed me? All the things I’ve taught you, all the time spent on you and you think I’d just let you go? You’re mine, in any timeline.”

Dean felt panic rise in him. The demon had somehow gotten into his dream and was going to kill him.

“Think about it, Dean. In this time, why would Alastair look like this? He hasn’t even met this vessel yet. He is not real. You can make him go away. Just think about him being gone. This is your dream. Take control of it again.”

Cas was right. Alastair sneered at him as Dean felt his throat being crushed. Dean closed his eyes.

He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here. 

With a thud, Dean hit the hard diner floor. He opened his eyes to find Cas hovering over him, a concerned expression on his face. Dean scrambled to his feet and looked around. Alastair was gone.

“What the hell, Cas? I thought you were keeping those memories away!”

“I am. But all I can do is push the Hell memories to the recesses of your mind. The rest of the dream is controlled by you. Apparently you were thinking of him so much that you manifested his image into your dream.”

“Awesome.” Dean muttered sarcastically.

“Are you okay?” The hot waitress had rushed over to him and gently stroked his face. Dean favored her with a cocky smile. Cas cleared his throat.

Dean sent a shrug to the angel. “I’m great now, babe.” He told the waitress. She gave him a long kiss on the lips. 

When they broke apart, she gave him a seductive smile. “I’ll be in the back if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Oh, if only there wasn’t an angel hanging out in his dream with him… But on the other hand, Cas’ friendship and support were worth more than a one night stand with an imaginary waitress, so Dean decided he’d take the trade-off. He sat back down and picked up an onion ring. 

“You need to be more mindful of your fears and thoughts.” Cas warned him.

“Yeah, I got that. So, how about we can the demon talk and just enjoy this food?”

“That’s a good suggestion.”

“Of course it is. I thought of it.” Dean took a bite of the fried treat and tried not to think about anything remotely unpleasant.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Bobby started up a pot of coffee as he waited for the Winchesters to wake up. They’d have to go out somewhere to eat though since Bobby didn’t have enough breakfast foods to feed everyone. It wasn’t like he had been planning on the family staying over. But it had been late by the time they’d completed their exchange of information and John looked far too worn out to complete the four hour drive a second time that day. Besides, if Bobby was completely honest with himself, he was a bit of a softy when it came to that kid who wasn’t quite a kid. 

He’d known Dean for less than a day and he felt like the boy was the son he’d never had. The way the child spoke to him and looked at him was as heartwarming as it was unnerving. The love, admiration, and sorrow in his eyes seemed to be radiating out from his damaged soul. And yeah, that boy was beyond damaged. But he was a good kid. Man. Whatever.

That brought Bobby back for the millionth time to the crazy ass story that Dean had handed to him the day before. The rational part of him wanted to deny it, but since when had Bobby Singer ever been accused of being overly rational any damned way. 

“I though you burned breakfast, but now I see that the smoke I smelled is just coming from your overworked brain. What you thinking about, old man?” 

Bobby turned to see Dean standing just inside the room, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Watch it, smart ass. So, ya finally up and around, huh? Thought ya’d spend the whole damned day takin’ up my sofa and being petted by yer angel.”

“Oh, that just sounds wrong, Bobby. Or are you just jealous? I’m sure Cas can spare a night to sit with you too.”

“Shut it, boy.” 

Dean laughed as he walked over to the hunter. “So, you got a cup of that for me?”

“Yer parents let ya drink coffee?”

“I’m thirty.”

“Yer body’s four and I wasn’t born yesterday. Help yerself ta some milk.”

“Damn.”

Just then, Castiel walked into the kitchen. Bobby looked at him. He kept waiting for the guy to sprout wings or for a halo to appear or some crap like that. If he’d been asked before yesterday what an angel would look like, a guy with slightly messy dark hair, blue eyes, and a tan trench coat wouldn’t’ve even crossed his mind. The guy didn’t act much like a holy being either. Hell, the language that Dean and he himself tossed around shoulda gotten both their asses smote. But nope, Castiel just talked like a normal guy with no concept of pop-culture references or sarcasm. He wondered how he’d spent so much time around Dean yet still remained somewhat naïve. 

“Hey, angel-boy, ya gonna just stand there or are ya gonna help yerself ta some coffee?”

“Wait… Cas gets coffee and I don’t.” Dean protested.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Castiel replied at the same time as Dean.

“Suit yerself. And yeah, everybody in this house that’s hit puberty gets caffeine.”

“You know that angels don’t actually do the whole puberty thing, right Bobby?” Dean questioned.

“Too much info, short stuff.”

“Good morning, Bobby.” Mary greeted as she walked in. 

“Mornin’.”

“You didn’t give Dean any coffee, did you?”

“Do I look like an idjit ta ya?”

“Can I answer that?” Dean piped up, a little too eagerly.

“Nope.”

“Well, if my son’s done insulting you, I’ll take a cup of that joe and then we’ll be on our way.” John informed Bobby as he entered the now overcrowded kitchen. 

“No, ya ain’t.”

“What? What’s wrong with that plan?” John sounded annoyed at his idea being shot down. Well, too damned bad. But on the other hand, the man had a bit of a short temper and Bobby really didn’t want to see what the guy was like when it ran out.

“Well, we’re all goin’ out fer breakfast and then comin’ back here ta go over some plans.”

“Plans for what? I thought we all agreed that we have to wait to see what the demons’ next step will be.”

“Yeah well, that ain’t what we need ta plan fer.”

“What then?”

“Yer first hunt.”


	26. Starting the First Hunt

Chapter Twenty-Six: Starting the First Hunt 

Dean stared at Bobby wondering what the hell the hunter was talking about. Their first hunt? According to the list that he and Cas had compiled from John’s journal, the first hunt was still weeks away. But he had a feeling that Bobby was not talking about that. 

“What first hunt?” His dad beat him to the question.

“The one yer goin’ on next weekend.”

“There isn’t one next weekend.” 

“Maybe not one in that journal yer son’s got. But there are always hunts out there.”

His dad shook his head. “No. We aren’t going to be taking on extra hunts unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’ve got a job and a family and we aren’t going to repeat the mistakes that could’ve been made. Hunting is not going to take over our lives.”

“Well, ain’t that a pretty speech. But ya can put the damned soapbox away, John. I ain’t askin’ ya ta hunt twenty-four/seven.”

“Then why…”

“Dean, what’s the first hunt ya got written in that book o’ yers?”

“Uh… it turned out to be a werewolf.” Dean answered.

“Uh huh. And, how did it turn out fer yer daddy?”

Dean shuddered as he remembered his dad coming back inside the motel room that night. Dean hadn’t been able to get to sleep and when he heard the sound of the Impala pull back up in front of their room, he’d climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb baby Sammy, and ran to stand in front of the door. It had opened and in walked a nightmare. It actually took a few seconds before the little boy had recognized his daddy under all the blood. The red fluid trailed down his daddy’s face from a large cut and it coated the man’s torn clothes. The bloody man stumbled in and Dean went to go to him, even though he was a little scared of his daddy’s appearance. But whenever he’d gotten hurt, his mommy had always held him and comforted him, so the boy decided that that must be what his daddy needed. But he stepped too close and his daddy didn’t see him and bumped into the child. “Jesus, Dean! What the hell! You trying to trip me?” He’d practically screamed as he shoved the boy away. Dean’s eyes filled with tears as his daddy collapsed onto the bed. “Sorry.” Dean whispered. His daddy looked up at him, startled by the boy’s seldom used voice. “No, I’m sorry, buddy. Sorry I yelled.” Dean ran into the bathroom and wet a facecloth. He brought it back to his daddy. “I’ll make your booboos better.” he’d told the man. Then he’d spent the next couple hours helping to clean huge gashes on his daddy’s chest, arm, leg, and head and patch them up. He received first aid lesson number one that night and then gone to sleep with nightmares of his daddy bleeding rivers worth of blood.

The memory must’ve shown something on his face because he didn’t even say a word before Bobby continued. “I don’t think ya wanna repeat that, do ya?”

Dean shook his head.

“Good. You, John, ain’t never been hunting ‘fore and ya need ta ease inta it. And Mary, ya been away from the job a bit too long. Dean here’s gotta learn ta hunt with the restrictions this body’s gonna bring with it. Ya guys need a warm up hunt. Somethin’ a bit easier than a creature lookin’ ta tear ya apart limb from bloody limb. And I got the perfect case. A haunting not far from here.”

“A haunting?” Dean questioned. “If you know ‘bout it, why haven’t you taken care of it already? And why are we waiting until next week?”

“I ain’t got it taken care of, ‘cause it’s low priority. Ain’t no one livin’ in that house fer a year or so. And you guys are gonna take the week ta do the research.”

“Sounds like you already did it.” Dean’s mom pointed out.

“Yep, but yer gonna do it again. I ain’t gonna do the research fer all yer cases so ya gotta practice that too. And Dean, you let yer parents do some too. We all know yer an expert hunter but ya can’t be doin’ all the work fer yer entire team, got it?”

Dean nodded again. Bobby was right. He was a little annoyed at himself for not thinking of all of this first.

“So, we look into this and then go take care of it next weekend?” Dean’s dad nodded, as if agreeing with the plan.

“No. Ya come back here on Saturday and let me look over yer research first. I know more ‘bout this case and I don’t want ya running in if ya don’t got all yer ‘i’s dotted and yer ‘t’s crossed.”

Dean was actually excited about Saturday. He knew that they needed as much time as possible to prepare for their first hunt as a family, but he was a bit impatient. He just wanted to go on the hunt, to feel like himself again. Sure he enjoyed spending time with his family and living the life fate had cheated him out of the first time around but he couldn’t deny that despite his new size, he was a hunter. It was pretty much all he was good at and he felt a bit lost without hunting. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean agreed. “But the only plan I want to talk about right now is breakfast plans.”

**Monday:**  
Once John had left for work, Dean got up from the dining room table and helped clean up the dishes. They’d all discussed the plans for researching the hunt and were now all set to get started. Dean had completely forgotten about the non-existence of the internet, so the research would require a bit more legwork. But he was ready. 

Dean ran into his room and stripped off his pajamas. He pulled on a pair of red and blue underwear and then his jeans. He got into a black long-sleeve shirt with a green outline of a t-rex skeleton. He remembered his dad buying it for him when they went to the museum for his fourth birthday. White socks with green heels and toes followed. His sneakers were downstairs by the front door, so he’d have to wait until they were leaving to put them on. Then he shoved his Trapper Keeper (with a fire truck design on the cover), the journal, some pens, pencils, erasers, and other assorted supplies into his blue back pack one handed. He was glad that he’d been able to ditch the sling and couldn’t wait for the day that the damned cast came off his arm as well. Dean pocketed his switchblade knife and was running back downstairs.

“I’m ready!” He called out.

“Not until you put a coat on you’re not.” His mom shot back.

“Killjoy.” Dean muttered under his breath.

“I heard that.”

Dean dropped his pack to the ground and pulled on his black, green, and white winter coat. Then he tugged on his sneakers. “Okay, Mom.” He shouted as he shouldered his bag.

“I’m right here, Dean. No need to yell.” His mom put a hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at her. She had her jacket on and her purse in hand.

“Cas, let’s go!” 

The angel stepped into the room holding a swaddled baby Sammy. With a nod, he walked over to the mother and son and placed a hand on them. A second later they were standing in a park, partially obscured from anyone else’s view by a large statue of some old guy holding his hand up in a self-important gesture. 

Cas let go of them. “I will return here at one o’clock.” he informed them before disappearing with Sammy still held in his arms.

Dean chuckled at the thought that Cas had kinda become their taxi service and babysitter. But until the internet came into being, they’d have to do all their research in the towns where their hunting jobs would take place. Bobby had given them the address of the haunted house in Huron, South Dakota, so now they were in that town and ready to get to work.

“Okay, let’s get ourselves to the library.” His mom took his small hand in hers and they walked to the sidewalk. 

Dean didn’t really like being treated like a kid with the whole hand-holding crap, but his mom had insisted. She’d been afraid of getting separated from him and something happening, whether it be supernatural or otherwise.

They found the library with no problems and went inside. As they walked by the front desk and turned to go to the media section to check out the local newspapers from the last few years, a librarian smiled at them and gestured them over to the desk.

“The ‘little readers’ program doesn’t start for another hour.” She informed them.

“Oh, we’re not here for that.”

“Oh. Well then, the children’s room is to your right. We just got in a few more picture books as well as a couple wooden puzzles that might be good for your son.”

“Actually, I’m here doing some research and Dean is going to sit with me.”

The older woman looked taken aback. “You understand that your boy will have to be exceptionally quiet if you take him in there. No playing around or talking.”

“He’s very well-behaved.” Dean’s mom assured her. 

“I’m just gonna to look through the books I got in my bag and do some connect-the-dots pictures. I won’t be loud. I promise.” Dean put on his most innocent smile and looked up at her through his eyelashes. 

The lady smiled back, her heart obviously melting. “Well, you enjoy yourself.” She looked at his mother. “He’s adorable.”

“Thank you.”

The Winchesters walked into the media section and were pleased to discover that it was deserted. They sat down next to each other and Dean pulled out a half-finished color/activity book and a pencil. He’d have to make it look like that was what he was working on if anyone came in. His mom got them settled in front of the microfiche machine and turned it on. Then she stood up and went to pull out all the newer newspapers and bring them over. It had been decided that Dean would look through those while she scanned the older archived papers. 

Dean scanned the sections of the local paper, the Huron Daily Plainsman, that might list any murders, disappearances, or suicides as well as the real-estate section to see when the house had changed hands, all while keeping an ear out for anyone entering the room. 

After about two hours, he’d filled a page full of notes. He wasn’t sure what would turn out to be relevant or not until they compared notes later. Just then, he heard footsteps. Dean shoved the newspapers aside and opened his activity book. Dean placed the tip of the pencil on number one and dragged it to two. Then he continued on in order, drawing dark lines to make what was obviously a spaceship. 

“How are you guys doing?” The librarian asked.

“We’re okay.” Dean’s mom responded.

“He’s such a good kid.” The lady commented, watching Dean.

“Yes, he is.”

“You are so lucky to have him.”

“I know.” His mom ruffled his hair.

Dean smiled sweetly at the elderly librarian. “I’m making a picture.” He told her, keeping his voice down.

“It’s lovely. And aren’t you just a smart little boy to know your numbers so well.”

“My mommy taught me to count really high.” He informed her.

“Well, she did a wonderful job.” The woman turned back to Dean’s mom. “I’ll be at the desk if you need anything.”

After she left, his mom looked down at her son. “Laying it on a bit thick there, weren’t you?”

“Hey, you’re just jealous ‘cause she obviously likes me better.”

His mom just shook her head with a short laugh. 

They left the library at twelve-fifty and walked back to the park. It was a very nice day, the sun was warm despite the December chill in the air. Dean felt the child portion of his brain begging him to run around with his arms splayed out and just enjoy himself. But the adult part of him refused. He wasn’t a four year old, not really, and he couldn’t afford to act like one. He was also afraid of losing the respect he’d earned from his mom. So, Dean just kept on walking. Cas was waiting for them, holding a poofy snowsuit that probably had a baby inside of it. 

“Do you wish to return home for lunch, or should we eat here so you can do more research afterwards?” The angel asked.

“I think we have what we need from the library.” Dean’s mom replied and then looked down at the boy.

Dean nodded his agreement.

“Then we’ll return.” 

Dean felt Cas touch his arm and then they were all back in the Winchesters’ kitchen. The small hunter blinked. He still felt disoriented by angel travel.

That night, after dinner, they all sat at the table with their research spread out in front of them. Dean spoke first.

“According to the papers, the house is now owned by the bank since the previous owners couldn’t sell it and didn’t have the cash to keep up the mortgage. The price keeps going down. It’s obvious that nobody wants to live there. The last owners moved out fifteen months ago and they only lived there for less than a year. There was one disappearance shortly afterwards. A teen boy that was dared by his buddies to break in and spend the night. The police searched the place but found no trace of him.”

It was then his mom’s turn. “The family that lived there last, the Miltons, had the police out several times claiming that someone was in their basement. But no one was ever caught. The parents only heard someone moving around down there but they have a little girl who was three years old at the time who claimed to see a ‘big, scary man with a bad eye’ coming up the stairs one night when she got up to use the bathroom.”

Dean’s dad was looking through the other papers. “You wrote down that there was no reports of anyone matching that description living there for as far back as you could go.”

“True, but he wouldn’t have had to live there.” His mom pointed out.

“Just had to die there.” Dean finished the thought.

His dad nodded thoughtfully. “Does the family still live in the area?”

“Yeah. Dean and I can pay them a visit tomorrow.”

“Hopefully after that we’ll have a bit more to work with.” Dean commented.

“Well, if that’s it for the night, let’s pop some popcorn and watch a movie.” His dad declared, standing up.

It was strange to hear his father suggest an activity that had nothing to do with hunting. But this John Winchester wasn’t an obsessive ass. He was a husband and a father that was trying to help his family while also learning how to save people and hunt things. Oh, and he made some awesome butter drenched popcorn.

Later that night, Dean succumbed to sleep while lying with his family on the couch, a lame-ass horror movie playing in the background. His baby brother was sleeping in his lap and Cas’ hand on his head assured him no nightmares. Tomorrow he’d go back to being a badass (if somewhat small) hunter, but for tonight he was content to just be John and Mary’s little boy.


	27. Children Say the Darnedest Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a warning for subject matter that may be uncomfortable for some readers.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Children Say the Darnedest Things 

**Tuesday:**  
Dean pulled his little league T-ball jersey on over a long-sleeve dark blue shirt as he got ready to go downstairs so that he and his mom could take the angel taxi back to Huron. He’d all but forgotten that his dad had enrolled him in T-ball the summer of 1983. Dean had actually been really good at it and was going to participate again the following year. But by the summer of ’84 he’d been on the road with his dad and hunting left no time for sports or any other normal kid stuff. The blue and white jersey that he wore had a small picture of a blue-eyed baseball with arms holding a bat on the left breast and the name ‘Winchester’ embroidered on the back. It had been quite a bit too large on him that summer but fit him well now. 

The boy half ran/ half jumped down the stairs and came to a stop right in front of his mom.

“Dean, what have we said about running in the house?”

“That I should only do it if something is trying to kill me.”

“And is something trying to kill you?”

“Yes.”

“Try again.”

“No.”

“Good. Then you don’t need to be running, do you?”

“Yes?”

“Try again.”

“No.”

“Good. Now that we understand each other, you can stop smirking and we’ll get ready to leave.” His mom instructed with an amused smile on her face.

Dean put on his shoes and coat and stood next to her, waiting for Cas. The angel walked in just a moment later. 

“Are you ready, Dean?”

“Born ready, Cas. And before you ask, that’s just an expression. I wasn’t actually born with the ability to do research and gank monsters.”

Cas gave him a look that was hard to decipher. 

Moments later, Dean and his mom were walking down a sidewalk heading to their first interview together.

“Uh, so what’s our cover, Mom? I don’t think that I can pull off the whole federal agent thing right now.”

“I’ll just explain that you’re a rookie.” She replied

Dean laughed. “Yeah, the look on their faces would be priceless. You know, right before they threw us out on our asses and called the cops on us. But seriously, what are we gonna say?”

“That we are interested in buying the house but heard some unsettling stories. Since they are the last ones to own the place, it would make sense for concerned potential buyers to speak with them.”

“Great cover story. So where do they live now?”

“In an apartment at the other side of town. But that’s not where we’re going.”

Dean looked up at her. And yeah, he was finally getting used to looking up to see everyone. Damned short body. “Then where we headed?”

“Kristie Milton runs a daycare from six in the morning until two in the afternoon and her daughter, Carrie goes there. I thought that that would be the best place to question them. I’ll stay and chat with Kristie while you’ll take advantage of your age by talking with her daughter.”

Dean thought it over. It was actually a good plan. Questioning the children was always difficult as the parents would be reluctant to let strangers talk with their kids and there were some things that couldn’t be discussed with the mom and dad hovering over them. But now he’d be able to get some unsupervised time with the only eye witness.

But as they walked up to the door of the daycare center, Dean felt a chill run down his spine. All he could think about was that business card that his dad had kept in his pocket from a daycare run by Alastair. The boy shook his head. No. That wasn’t this place. There was nothing to fear here.

The pair walked inside and up to the receptionist’s desk.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, I would like to speak with Mrs. Milton please.”

“Do you have an appointment for an enrollment?” The woman looked at Dean.

“No, but that is something I’d really like to discuss with her.”

“One moment please.” The woman got up and stuck her head into an office. Dean could hear murmurs of conversation but no actual words. A moment later the woman was back. “Just go right in.” She gestured to the office she’d just been speaking into.

His mom put a hand on his back and guided him into the room. It was a pretty boring looking office. Brown carpet, beige walls, dark wood desk, coat rack, and a few tan plastic chairs. Definitely not the bright, cheerful, child-friendly office he’d been expecting. Except of course for the crayon drawings that were taped to the walls, depicting trees, rainbows, animals, people, and other childish pictures along with a framed professionally taken photograph of a little blonde girl with pigtails. 

“Come in.” The blonde woman greeted them, although they had already entered and closed the door behind themselves. She was short and thin and actually really pretty. She wore no make-up and dressed in jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt that read ‘Sunny Spot Daycare: Where Children Shine’. “I’m Kristie Milton, the manager of Sunny Spot. And you are?”

“I’m Mary Winchester and this is my son Dean. We are considering moving into the area and were told that we should talk with you.”

“Well, welcome to Heron, then. And yes, if you’re looking for a place that little Dean can spend the day while you work, you’ve come to the right place. We have four different rooms for the different age groups, all sorts of toys and games to entertain and teach, and even an outdoor playground. Children are constantly supervised by our staff who are all CPR certified. We are open from six am to six pm and if you run a little late, Aaron always stays after so it’s not too big a problem.”

“That sounds wonderful. So much better than the place Dean goes to right now. Don’t you think, sweetie?”

Dean bit his lip and nodded slowly. “I guess.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine, Dean.” His mom ‘assured’ him. Then she turned her attention back to Mrs. Milton. “He gets nervous sometimes. And with us moving to a whole new place, it’s a little hard on him. Actually, aside from enrolling him here, I was wondering if you could help me out with something else.”

“What?”

“The house we’re looking to buy is actually the same one that I was told that you used to own. It’s a lovely house but there are some strange rumors about it and someone mentioned them in front of Dean and now he’s scared. I was hoping that you could reassure him that everything is fine with the house.”

The woman looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Of course the house is fine. People say silly things sometimes. Especially if they’re just scared children. But it really is a nice place to live. ”

Dean nodded, keeping a somewhat nervous look on his face.

His mom smiled. “See sweetie, nothing to worry about.”

“Do I hafta come here?” Dean asked.

“If mommy doesn’t work, we won’t be able to get all the stuff we need, Dean. You know that. Please give this place a chance.”

“If you want, Dean can join the other children outside for a little playtime while you and I finish discussing details.” Kristie offered. “Maybe then he’ll be more excited about this wonderful place.”

“Would you like that Dean?” His mom asked.

“I can go play in the playground?” Dean practically bounced up and down in false excitement.

“Sure. I can show you both to the playground and then your mommy and I will leave you to play with the other kids while we come back here, okay?”

“Yay!” Dean exclaimed.

“I think that’s a ‘yes’.” Dean’s mom translated.

They exited the office and walked past two classroom doors to reach the one that led outside. Stepping out, Dean saw three different sized slides, two swing sets, four see-saws, large dome-shaped monkey-bars, a sandbox, and a pretend lemonade stand. It was actually a really nice playground. 

The boy waved good-bye to his mom as the adults went back inside, then looked around. There were six boys and five girls playing on the equipment, some older than him, some younger. Three adults stood in a group watching the children and talking. There was an older woman, a teenage girl, and a twenty-something year old man. They all had on the same yellow tees as Kristie Milton wore under their coats. 

A quick glace was all it took to find Carrie. Her blonde hair was pulled into pigtails just as it had been in the photo in her mother’s office. The girl, who was about his physical age, was perched atop the monkey-bars, swinging her feet back and forth and watching the other kids play. 

Dean started to head towards her, but a boy quite a bit taller than himself ran right into him. Dean fell on his ass, cursing himself for not paying better attention. Then the older boy looked down at him and made a face.

“Watch where you’re going, shrimp!”

“Dude, _you_ ran into _me_.”

“Well, watch where I’m going then.” The dark haired child laughed as though he’d just made the funniest joke known to man.

Dean reigned in his annoyance. “Sure, whatever.”

The boy gave him a superior look as he walked off. Dean waited until his back was turned before flipping him off. A girlish laugh drew his attention up to Carrie. He smiled up at her. 

“Can I come up?”

“Sure.” She smiled at him.

Dean used his right arm to pull himself up onto the bottom rung and then wrapped his left arm around one of the vertical bars to free his good hand up. Then he reached for the next rung. In this fashion, he made the climb pretty quickly. Once he was sitting next to the petite girl, he returned her smile.

“Hi, I’m Dean.”

“Carrie. How’d you hurt your arm?”

Dean shrugged. “Got in a fight I had no hope of winning.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? You’re not a bully, are you?”

“No way. The other guy was.”

“Did he get in trouble?”

“He will.” Dean shrugged again. “So, Carrie, huh? Are you the owner’s daughter?”

“Yeah. So I’m here a lot. But the playground’s fun.”

“’Cept for jerks like that, you mean.” Dean commented, pointing at the tall boy that was now harassing a toddler. 

“Yeah. My mommy’s gonna kick him out though.”

“Cool.” Dean nodded and then got to the point. “I’m gonna be moving into your old house.”

“No! Don’t do that! He’s still there!”

“Who?”

“The man with the bad eye. He lives downstairs. But I don’t think he’s alive.”

“He’s a ghost?” Dean asked.

“You don’t believe me, do you? Nobody does.” Carrie looked upset.

“I believe you. I’ve seen a ghost before too.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Were you scared? I was.” The little girl bit her lip nervously. 

“Yeah, ghosts are scary. Is the one at your old house mean?”

“I think so. He looked mean. He was big and strong and bald. And his eye looked like someone stitched it closed. And he growled at me when I saw him. And then Tony said he knew who it was but he doesn’t think it’s a ghost. He doesn’t think ghosts are real.”

“Who’s Tony?” Dean questioned.

“Him.” She pointed at a slightly older boy on the swings. “His daddy is a police and he says that his daddy told him that the bad-eyed man is a crook. But no one ever caught the crook. He just went away. But I know the man with the bad eye isn’t just a crook. He’s a ghost for sure.”

“Wow.” 

“Yeah. So tell your daddy and mommy not to move there. It’ll be bad.”

“Okay.”

“Are you gonna come back here a lot?” Carrie wanted to know.

“Not if we don’t move here. We live in a different state right now.”

“Oh. Too bad. You’re nice. And this is a fun place. Except for Aaron.” She looked uncomfortable as she said that last part.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah, that guy over there. He works for mommy but I don’t like him. He follows me and the other kids into the bathroom and watches us. He stares a lot and is really creepy when no one else is around.”

Dean felt his blood boil at the thought of some sicko hanging around these kids. “He doesn’t touch you or hurt you, does he?”

“No, but I don’t like the way he stares when I use the potty.”

“Have you told your mom?”

“Yeah, but after I told her about the ghost I saw, she doesn’t believe me much. She said he’s a really nice guy and is in college to be a teacher. But he’s still creepy.”

Dean nodded. He was done with his questioning and was pretty sure that his mom would be ready to go soon. But there was something that he needed to do first.

“I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry.”

“What can you do?”

“A hell of a lot.”

Carrie laughed. “I like you.”

“Thanks. You’re pretty awesome too. I have to go now. Take care.”

With that, Dean dropped down from his perch and landed in a crouch. His feet stung a bit from the fall but it was the fastest way down. It wasn’t like he did it to show off or anything.

The small hunter walked over to the group of adults. He put on his most childish, innocent expression before speaking to get their attention.

“Uh, ‘scuse me. I gotta pee.”

“I’ll take you to the bathroom.” Aaron immediately offered.

“Thanks.” Dean responded.

He let the man lead him back into the building and to a door that had the boy’s bathroom symbol on it. Dean opened the door and looked inside. There was a small toilet, a low sink, and a paper towel dispenser in the small room. He walked in and, sure enough, Aaron followed. 

“I can go by myself.” Dean informed him

“I’ll just stay in case you need help.”

“Don’t need help.”

“Sure you do. Now just go pee before you wet your pants, kiddo.” The guy was standing there looking a bit too eager.

No floor show for you, douche-bag. Dean thought. “Uh, can you turn around?”

“How can I keep an eye on you if I’m not looking? Now pull your pants down and get on with it.” Aaron sounded really annoyed and impatient.

Dean walked to the toilet and pretended like he was going to undo his button. The boy could feel the weight of the man’s gaze on him. And that was enough. This guy was scum and couldn’t be trusted around these kids.

Dean spun around to face the man. “Yeah, you know what? I don’t think so.”

“What the hell, kid? I thought you had to pee.”

“I don’t drop my pants for pervs like you, ass-hat.” Dean dropped all pretense of being a regular little boy. “And your days of playing peeping tom in a daycare are over.”

Aaron seemed taken aback. “What… what are you talking about?”

“We both know exactly what I’m talking about. And you’re lucky that you haven’t laid a finger on these kids or this would be the last conversation of your pathetic life. But as it is, you are going to go tell Mrs. Milton that you quit and you are gonna haul ass outta here, never to return. You are not going to ever look at a kid again in any way other than wholesome and pure. ‘Cause if you do, I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it, kid?” The words were tough, but his voice gave away how unnerved he was.

Dean pulled out his switchblade knife and flicked it open. “I will cut off a very important part of your anatomy to ensure you never do it again.”

“You… you wouldn’t.”

Dean put on his most dangerous look and let his eyes show his scary hunter self. The man immediately backed away until he hit the closed bathroom door. Dean decided that someday he’d have to pull that look in front of a mirror to see what scared the crap out of everyone. 

“Yeah, I would.” The small, pissed-off hunter promised. 

“Who… what are you?”

“I hunt down and take care of monsters. And as far as I’m concerned, you’re a monster of the worst kind. Now do we have an understanding?”

Aaron nodded dumbly. 

Dean smiled sweetly at him. “Good. Now get the hell outta here, ‘cause I really do gotta take a pee.”

The man didn’t need to be ordered twice.

Once he was gone, Dean locked the door and then relieved himself. He flushed, washed his hands, and dried them on a paper towel. After disposing of the now soggy paper, the boy left the bathroom and went back outside. No sooner had he stepped through the door, then his mom and Kristie walked into the playground.

“I don’t understand why he’d just quit like that.” The daycare owner was complaining. “Now I’m going to be stuck coming back to cover closing time until I can hire a replacement.”

“Well, I hope it works out for you. This is a lovely place you have.” His mom waved him over. “Come on Dean! We’re leaving!”

With a wave and a thumbs-up to Carrie, he joined his mom and they left. As they were walking to the diner where they’d agreed to meet up with Cas, his mom kept glancing down at him. “Okay, what did you do, Dean?”

“Who says I did anything?”

“The look of pure terror on the guys face combined with the smug look on yours tells quite a story.”

“He got off on staring at naked kids. I taught him the error of his ways.”

“I’m getting the full story later.” Mary insisted.

Dean shrugged. “So, you get any more info?”

“We’ll discuss it after dinner, so your dad can be a part of the discussion as well. And I’m sure he’d love to hear your story too.”

“You know, I really think he would.” Dean grinned.

Turned out that his dad really did like his story. All except for the part where Dean went into the bathroom alone with the pervert, but the boy convinced his parents that he was armed and safe the whole time. Afterwards, they went over the information that had been gathered.

“Kristie seems to think that there’s a crawlspace or something that the man used to get into her house. At least that’s what she says. But I can tell that she’s just trying to convince herself of the least insane idea she can come up with.”

“Carrie told me that some other kid told her that he’s a criminal. His description fit someone that the boy’s policeman father knew of. But the criminal, a big, bald man with an eye that was sewn shut, just disappeared.”

John nodded. “You know, if this guy broke into the house, maybe whoever owned it at the time killed him. Would that do it? Make him a ghost?”

“It’s likely. Very likely.” Dean agreed.

“I’ll go back to the library tomorrow.” Mary informed them. “Now I’ll have something concrete to look into.”

“Awesome.” Dean grinned his most cocky grin. “We got this one in the bag.”

“Of course we do.” Dean’s father concurred, lifting the boy and tossing him into the air. “We’re Winchesters.” He caught Dean and then threw him onto the couch.

Dean laughed and rolled off and onto the floor.

“Hey, be careful.” His mom scolded. “His arm’s still healing.”

His father looked a bit sheepish. 

“Dean was not thrown with enough force to re-injure his arm and he landed on something rather soft.” Cas pointed out.

“See, the angel is on our side.” His father gloated.

“Great, now I’m being over-ruled by Heaven. I’m never going to win an argument this way.” She sighed dramatically.

“Why do you think I kept him around all these years?” Dean asked.

“Because I pulled you from Hell and helped you fight both demons and angels.” Cas responded.

“Well, that too.” 

Not long after that, Dean headed upstairs to go to bed. It was just a few days until they’d all be facing the pissed off ghost of a criminal. But they’d be ready. After all, they were Winchesters.


	28. Left at Home

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Left at Home

**Wednesday:**  
Mary smiled at the librarian as she entered the library once again. 

“Where’s Dean today?” the older woman asked.

Yeah, her son sure made an impression on those he met. 

“Oh, he’s home with his baby brother and uncle today.” She replied. Okay, so Castiel seemed more like a brother than an uncle to Dean but she wasn’t old enough to claim him as her son. Just how old would someone have to be to claim a centuries old angel as their child anyway? 

“You should bring him by tomorrow. We’re having a puppet show in the children’s room at noon.”

“I’ll let him know.” Mary lied. There was no way that Dean would want to sit through that and they’d probably get thrown out due to her son’s rather vulgar running commentary he kept up whenever they watched something that he considered to be boring. 

“Are you going back to the media room?”

“Yes. Just doing a bit more research.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay.” Mary gave her a smile as she walked off.

She sat down in front of the microfiche machine and turned it on. Then she began scrolling through the articles. The words were flying by in nausea-inducing speeds and she was really wishing that there was an easier way to get the information needed. It was difficult to get through all the articles quickly, yet not so fast that she’d miss something important. And searching through years worth of newspaper stories was going to take forever. Mary was glad that she’d convinced Dean to stay home today. He couldn’t be caught using one of the machines, so there would’ve been nothing for him to do. And as ‘adult’ as he acted, he was still in a kid’s body and kids were not known for their ability to sit still. Especially kids like her son. When he had nothing to do, he fidgeted constantly, made obnoxious noises, and played with anything he could get his little hands on. Yeah, home was definitely the best place for him.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean laughed as he jerked the joystick of the Atari controller up hitting the ball on the tv screen back at Cas. The angel tried to move his fast enough to counter the move, but the point went to Dean.

“Oh yeah! Who’s awesome?!” Dean gloated, loud enough to be considered a celebration, yet quiet enough not to wake Sammy. The little guy had fallen asleep in his playpen and Dean didn’t have the heart to risk disturbing him by moving him to his crib upstairs.

“I still don’t understand how this is considered ‘training’.” Cas commented.

“It helps sharpen reflex skills.”

“And if a demon ever challenges us to video games, I’m certain we’ll be ready.”

“Nice use of sarcasm, Cas. Didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“I’m just trying to say that if you want to do something for fun, you don’t have to disguise it as ‘training’.”

Dean just shrugged. He knew that Cas was right, but after growing up being told that fun for the sake of fun was frivolous, trying to pass games as training was second nature to him. Besides, he was a bit paranoid of the others seeing him as just a little kid rather than the capable hunter he was.

“You’re just upset ‘cause I’m kicking your ass in ‘Pong’.”

“Perhaps I’ll beat you this time.”

“Not freakin’ likely.” Dean hit the reset button and they started again.

They finally turned the game off when Dean’s wrist started to bug him. The last thing he wanted to do was make it so that both of his hands were out of commission. He got up and stretched. The one good thing about this new body was that he no longer felt stiff and sore from sitting cross-legged on the floor for hours. All of the old aches and pains he’d collected over his lifetime were gone.

“I’m gonna go get some food.” Dean announced.

“Your mom wishes me to inform you that cold pizza is not a healthy lunch.”

“Noted.” Dean said as he headed into the kitchen to help himself to a slice of cold pizza. He knew that Cas wouldn’t stop him from eating it. The angel looked out for him but didn’t baby him at all. Dean loved his parents but they saw him first as a kid and second as a time-displaced hunter. Cas saw his older self first and then the outer packaging. 

Dean had just taken a large bite out of the slice of bacon pizza when he heard barking coming from outside. That was a bit strange. It had been sleeting all day long and no one in their right mind would take their dog for a walk in that kind of weather. But if it was who Dean thought it was, then the owner probably was a bit nuts. 

A glance out the window proved him right. Old, senile Mr. Gallagher was walking hunched over, holding the leash of a beautiful black Labrador. He was trying to keep the frozen rain off of his face and the dog was obviously no happier about the weather. Dean had never heard the mutt making so much noise before. Then the old man stepped on a particularly slippery spot and went down hard. The dog pulled away from him and ran into the Winchesters’ yard.

Without hesitation, Dean ran to the front door and threw it open. “Cas, call 911. Mr. Gallagher fell outside!” He yelled. Dean had no clue where Cas was, probably upstairs with Sammy since he’d heard the baby wake while he was in the kitchen and probably needed a diaper change, but didn’t want to wait for him to get back into the living room. Mr. Gallagher could need immediate help.

The boy stepped out into the sleet and instantly wished that he’d taken the time to put his coat on. It was freezing cold and windy and his tee and flannel weren’t doing a damned thing against the weather. Dean ran past the dog that was headed for the front steps. He ignored it and went to the old man who hadn’t moved since falling. If he was unresponsive, Dean would stay with him until Cas came out and then he’d get the angel to bring the old guy inside where it was warm and dry. 

He dropped down to his knees, jeans getting soaked within seconds, and gently grasped Mr. Gallagher’s shoulder. He made no attempt to move him though. He didn’t want to cause any further injury. Besides, he wasn’t convinced that his little body had the strength the budge the much larger man.

“Hey, mister, you okay?” He got no response. “My uncle’s gonna call 911, Mr. Gallagher. Just hang on.” 

Dean got to his feet and turned to call for Cas to hurry it up. He hadn’t even opened his mouth when a hand grabbed his upper left arm. The boy turned his head to see the old man standing there, smirking down at him. Blood ran from a gash on his head but it didn’t even faze the elderly man and Dean knew that Mr. Gallagher wasn’t the one in the driver’s seat of his body anymore. No wonder his mutt had been making such a ruckus. Animals hated demons. 

A truly horrible thought crossed Dean’s mind. Alastair. This was Alastair and he’d made good on his promise to kidnap Dean and take him somewhere private. The boy felt panic well up in his chest. He couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t.

Dean actually sighed in relief when Mr. Gallagher’s eyes turned black. Not Alastair then. Just some random demon flunky. This Dean could handle.

“So, you’re the little boy that has Hell so riled up? I’m not impressed.”

“That makes two of us, you demonic douche-bag. I mean seriously, what’s with the old guy? You get off having your prostate examined or something? Or you just in it for the senior citizen discounts?”

The demon regarded him curiously. “You’re not frightened?”

“Of you? Hell no.”

“Well, you should be. I can kill you easy, boy.” The demon possessed man grabbed the front of Dean’s soaked through shirt and lifted him into the air.

“But you won’t. I’m needed alive. ‘Cides, you’re no match for me.”

“You talk tough but I’m sure Alastair will cut that out of you when I bring you to him.”

“So, you’re just the courier? Well, hate to tell you, but your boss gave you the dirty work ‘cause he knows better than to come here himself.” Dean reached his right hand into his pocket and pulled out his switchblade. In one swift motion, he flicked out the blade and stabbed the demon in the shoulder.

It let out a scream and dropped Dean to the ground. Smoke poured from the wound. The demon pulled the knife out and dropped it to the ground before clutching at his shoulder.

“Just so you know, the knife is a custom job. Made from iron and soaked in a holy water and salt mixture. Bet it hurts like a bitch, huh?”

Dean snatched the weapon up and took off back to the house. He didn’t have anything to kill the creature with and knew that he was safest inside. He almost made it when an invisible force lifted him up and threw him against the house. Damn, but he hated that demon trick.

The boy crumpled to the ground right next to the cowering dog. The possessed man started towards him. Dean scrambled to his feet just as the front door opened. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him through the threshold. Dean caught a brief glimpse of Cas walking past him as he stumbled back.

“Dean, stay there.” The angel ordered.

The young hunter obeyed without question. He heard the sounds of a struggle and then the demon possessed old man was pushed right at the open door. He never even reached the doorway, though, due to the devil’s trap that was under the outside welcome mat. Dean stepped forward, and started reciting the exorcism in Latin. 

“You’re going to die, kid! Bleeding and screaming, and begging for mercy! And we’ll drag your soul to Hell to be tortured for eternity!” 

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued. Cas stepped up behind the demon and stood there, ready just in case something else happened. Dean finished the exorcism and was rewarded with a black cloud being spewed from the elderly man’s mouth and disappearing into the ground. 

Cas caught Mr. Gallagher before he could fall to the ground. 

“Is he alive?” Dean asked.

“Yes, but he requires assistance.”

“Did you call 911?”

“No, but I will take him to the emergency room directly. Stay inside and get into dry clothes.”

Dean nodded as the angel and the injured man disappeared. He looked at the dog sitting by the house.

“You’re not comin’ in, Cujo. Go on, get home.” 

The dog gave a pathetic whine, but trudged down the steps and started off down the road. Dean felt a little bad for it, but he didn’t want a big, wet, dirty dog running around the house. And it had gotten quite a scare and Dean feared that it might react by attacking Sammy if the baby did anything to startle the mutt. 

By the time Dean had dried himself off and gotten dressed, Cas was back. 

“Are you alright, Dean?”

“Awesome. And thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome. Now you just have to deal with your parents and attempt to explain why you ran outside alone.”

“Can you help save me from that too?”

“I would not want to put myself in-between your upset parents and the object of their irritation.”

“Thanks for the support, man. Really. I seriously need to find a new best friend.” Dean muttered good naturedly. 

The rest of the day was spent playing with Sammy, washing dishes, going over the notes he’d been making about possible plans that the demons might be making, and just relaxing in front of the television. His mom arrived home just before his father did, a carton of fried chicken and a bag full of side dishes in her arms.

Dean waited until their nightly after-dinner meeting to bring up what had happened. The discussion went a lot better than he’d expected. Apparently the pride of having raised a son that would run out in the freezing rain to help an elderly man balanced out the negative emotions brought on by the fact that Dean had accidently put himself in danger again. With that out of the way, and orders issued for Dean to never again set a foot outside the house alone, the Winchesters moved on to the topic of their current hunt.

“I found our ghost.” His mom announced. “Trenton Craig was suspected of breaking and entering into at least nine houses and assaulting six people. During one of the break-ins, the homeowner cut the robber’s eye with a knife. He must’ve had a friend stitch it shut because no hospital in the area reported him going in for treatment. He became more violent after that, almost killing a couple in their house. Then he just vanished. I think your theory was right, John. He probably broke into the house we’re investigating and was killed by the person living there at the time, a Bradley Coombs.”

“Why didn’t he report it?” His dad questioned. 

“Because, Mr. Coombs was on parole after spending some time in prison on assault charges. He probably assumed he’d get in trouble, even if it was self-defense.”

“Makes sense.” Dean agreed. “But where do you think he hid the body? Maybe in the woods nearby? If so, it’ll be almost impossible to find.”

“Well, around the time that Trenton Craig dropped off the face of the earth, Bradley Coombs got recognition after a neighbor submitted a picture of his back lawn to a home and garden magazine on his behalf and it was featured in a gardening article. According to the article, Mr. Coombs’ yard had been an overgrown mess until he suddenly decided to plant a beautiful garden full of creeping roses and decorative fruit trees.”

“Bet I know what he used as fertilizer.” Dean commented.

His dad snorted. “Why didn’t we think of that when our rose bush was dying last summer?”

Dean’s mom smacked her husband in the back of his head and he chuckled. Dean smiled as he watched them. It was strange. They hadn’t had any more of their arguments since all this crap started back in the beginning of November. Their relationship seemed to be thriving. Dean guessed that their former problems probably seemed petty compared to what they now faced together and that maybe the thought that they’d almost lost one another had helped to patch up their differences. Whatever it was, Dean was pleased to see it. Especially since they were all going to need each other to make it through the upcoming hunts and demon attacks that were sure to come.


	29. Last Minute Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a conversation in this chapter, I wish to remind everyone that in this story Dean went back in time before the events of the Trials.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Last Minute Preparations 

**Thursday:**  
Dean looked around the rather large backyard of 72 Pershing rd in Huron, South Dakota. He and Cas were there to look around and draw out a map of the area so that they could best determine where to begin digging when they all came out to the house after his dad got home tomorrow. 

They had all talked it over and decided that even with them all digging, they wouldn’t have enough time after it got dark on Saturday to check the entire yard. So, they’d start Friday night and just call Bobby before heading there. The older hunter wouldn’t be pleased with it, but waiting a day meant that it was possible that they wouldn’t get a chance to salt and burn the body that weekend. John had suggested doing it on a weeknight, but he needed to get up early for work, so it was best to leave the grave digging for Fridays and Saturdays when possible. And despite the fact that there was no one living there at the moment, Dean wanted the ghost gone ASAP. After all, if one teen had already been stupid enough to go inside on a dare, more idiots would follow eventually. Dean knew he’d feel awful if someone else got killed because he’d waited to do the salt and burn when it could’ve been finished this weekend.

His mom had wanted to accompany him to the house to map out the backyard, but Dean had convinced her to stay home. Cas would be all the backup he’d need in the unlikely event that something went wrong and would be able to get them out of a bad situation with merely a thought. He’d also realized that while they had only been gone a few hours each day, Sammy hadn’t had an entire day with his mommy all week long. Dean was determined that Sam would not grow up being left behind without his parents this time. With their mom alive and Cas in the picture as well, they would all be able to plan things out so that his brother would never have to feel abandoned. Hell, Dean himself was enjoying the constant companionship that he’d missed out on the first time around.

“Boy, this needs some TLC.” Dean commented, looking at the overgrown mess that the once well-manicured yard had become. “No wonder the house won’t sell. This looks like something out of a Stephan King novel. And I’m talking about his straight up horror stuff, not that douchey crap like ‘From a Buick 8’.”

“I haven’t read any of his work.”

“Big surprise there. But hey, you’ve got plenty of time to read ‘em now. And he hasn’t even written that god-awful waste of paper yet. Hey, maybe I could contact him and warn him off from it.” At Cas’ look, the boy shrugged. “Kidding. Mostly.”

Dean pulled his sketch pad out of his backpack and started to draw the yard. He added in the fruit trees, bushes, trellises that were once covered in roses, and the fenced in area that was probably a vegetable garden once upon a time. He drew carefully, keeping everything to scale and in the right place. It wasn’t easy though. His hands were too small and a bit more uncoordinated than he was used to. Sure he’d been adjusting to his body’s new limitations, but things seemed to keep popping up just to frustrate him. He knew that he was going to have to keep practicing and training to get himself to where he wanted to be physically. 

“Do you see any place that you would consider to be a likely burial spot?”

“Well, if I was gonna bury someone, I wouldn’t pick my own backyard in the first place. I mean seriously, Cas, aside from the whole fact that it’d be easier to trace back to the person who killed the dude, now the killer’s gotta worry ‘bout being haunted. If I killed someone, I would just salt and burn the body right then and save myself a lot of time and trouble.” He paused for a moment. “Not that I’ve put a lot of thought into the idea of murder or anything.”

“In other words, you have no idea where the body is likely buried.”

“None.” Dean admitted. “But don’t worry. We’ll figure it out and salt and burn this bitch. Send his ugly ass straight to the pit.” Then he thought about it for a moment. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Ghosts… we didn’t see ‘em when we were in purgatory.”

“They are disembodied souls, not monsters, Dean. They wouldn’t be there.”

“Right. So, what happens to them when we salt and burn ‘em? Do they just… disperse forever? Or do they go on to a final destination?”

“Why are you asking now?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I thought a lot about it after Bobby... Not that I’m gonna let that happen again. No way in hell. But I just… I don’t know…”

“If it comforts you to know, souls cannot be destroyed by destroying their bodies.”

“So, they move on.” Dean nodded. Then he thought of something else. “Can a ghost get into Heaven? I mean, even if the person did some questionable things after their death?”

“You’ve said yourself that spirits are driven mad and that leads them to become violent. I do not believe that my Father would punish someone for circumstances out of their control.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.” Dean smiled. “But this guy we’re hunting now was a total ass even before the whole ghost thing, so one way ticket to Hell for him.”

Dean wasn’t sure why he felt better knowing that in his original timeline Bobby had most likely ended up in Heaven. As he’d told Cas, he wasn’t about to let that happen to his friend again. But still, knowing that the man who’d been almost like a father to him didn’t end up in Hell or just ceasing to exist made Dean feel immense relief.

He was just taking one final look around to make sure that he hadn’t missed anything when something caught his eye.

“We’re not alone.” Dean pointed up to the second story window to show Cas what he’d seen.

A man was looking down at them. He was bald and looked like his face was etched in a permanent sneer. Oh, and his left eye was stitched shut. Even for a ghost, he was fugly. And he was glaring right at the two of them.

“I think we should go.” Dean suggested as he reached into his pocket, resting his hand on the small container of salt he’d put there just in case.

“I agree.” Cas stepped up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Then the ghost flickered and disappeared. Only to reappear not three feet away. Dean pulled the salt container from his pocket and flung it in front of himself.

The salt fell all over the Winchesters’ living room floor. Dean looked around the room before letting out a sigh.

“Nice timing, Cas.”

“Thank you.”

“What happened? And why is there salt all over the floor that I just vacuumed?” 

Dean turned to see his mom standing in the doorway.

“Cyclops showed up and just as I was about to disperse his ass, Cas got us outta there.”

“Are you alright?”

“I just said that angel-boy here got us out quick.” Dean reminded her.

“Just making sure. You have to admit, it does seem like the two of you are trouble magnets.”

“I inherited that trait from my parents.” Dean shot back with a grin. The boy unzipped his coat and let it drop to the floor. Then he removed his hat and shoes.

“You better not leave those there.” His mom warned. “And someone needs to clean up that salt.”

“Too small to use the vacuum.” The young hunter commented, deciding to take advantage of his new size.

“But the perfect size to hold the dust pan while Castiel sweeps it up.” His mom pointed out. 

That night, the Winchesters went over the drawn out map and came up with a plan. The vegetable garden hadn’t been featured in the magazine article and was probably added afterwards, so that was off the digging list. They also decided that the areas that had been left as just grass were unlikely. So, they’d start with the rose garden and the decorative trees. Luckily the trees were the type that stayed pretty small, so it wouldn’t be too bad if they had to dig them up. But it was December and even though it had been unseasonably warm, the ground was still partially frozen and would be a bitch to get a shovel into. So, Dean’s parents and Cas would do the digging while Dean kept a lookout. With Trenton Craig’s spirit making an appearance in broad daylight while they had only been looking around, it was a foregone conclusion that he’d show up once they started digging around. But the Winchesters would be ready. 

**Friday:**  
Dean went through the check list of supplies. Salt? Check. Gasoline? Check. Matches and lighter? Check. Three shovels? Check. Shotguns with salt rounds? Check. Iron bar? Check. And finally, a small converted airgun with homemade salt bbs? Check. They were ready. 

Dean hefted the airgun up and held it at the ready. It felt good. It was great that he’d have a weapon for when things heated up. He’d be a rather pathetic backup if he couldn’t even defend himself and his family. But his dad had gone out to a sports store and found something that he’d felt would work for the small hunter. And when he’d tried it out, it had been almost perfect. The kickback was a bit hard for him to compensate for, especially with his left arm still in a cast, but he’d done exceedingly well at the target practice.

The boy packed everything up and put the stuff next to Sammy’s already packed diaper bag. There was more than enough diapers, formula, food, and teethers in there to last an entire weekend, let alone the few hours that they’d be gone. And boy wasn’t Bobby going to be thrilled with suddenly becoming a babysitter. Of course, he’d probably take it a lot better than he had the first time around, when their dad had just up and left early in the morning, leaving behind two small children and hadn’t returned for over two weeks. 

“Dean, come back to the table and finish your dinner!” 

“Not hungry, Mom!”

“Dean, get your little butt to the table and do as your mom asks!”

“Not hungry, Dad!”

“Dean…” There was an underlying threat in the tone that the boy easily recognized from his first childhood years before.

Dean rolled his eyes. He was thirty-freakin’ years old and didn’t need anyone telling him when it was time to eat. Sure they were his parents but it wasn’t like they could actually ground him or anything. But he decided that it was best to do as asked for the moment. No need to go into their first hunt with anyone annoyed at him.

“Coming.”

Dean hopped back up into his chair and stared at his half eaten fish and his untouched rice and broccoli. He pushed it around his plate for a moment before sighing and taking another bite.

“Are you feeling okay?” His mom asked.

“Yeah.” Dean replied. Truthfully though, his stomach felt a little queasy. He knew that it was from nerves but wasn’t about to admit that to his parents. He’d had less control over his emotions since he’d became four again, and couldn’t completely squash the fear that the kid portion of his brain was unsuccessfully trying to deal with. The adult Dean was ready to go, even a bit excited about the upcoming hunt, but child Dean was scared. And apparently the result of that mix was an upset stomach. Dean was glad for once to not be eating anything heavy or greasy. 

“If you’re full, that’s okay.” 

Dean shot a grateful look to his mom. He knew that she knew the real problem and was offering him a way out. He took it thankfully.

“Yeah, I guess I ate too much at lunch.”

They all knew that it was a lie.

His dad stood up from the table. “Well, I’m done too. So if we’re all set?”

“We’re all set.” Dean confirmed. 

After they all got dressed for the cold weather, the Winchesters gathered in the living room with their supplies. Dean went over, picked up the phone, and dialed a number that he knew by heart.

“Who’s this?”

“Hey, Bobby, it’s Dean. We’re all about to appear in your living room so please don’t shoot us. Thanks. See ya.”

Dean ran to his family and smiled.

“Let’s do this!”


	30. Close Encounters of the Ghostly Kind

Chapter Thirty: Close Encounters of the Ghostly Kind 

Dean almost laughed out loud when Bobby literally jumped in surprise at the sight of the Winchesters suddenly appearing before him.

“What the devil?”

“Actually, us teleporting is ‘cause of an angel, not the devil.” Dean corrected.

“Lucifer is an angel as well.” Cas pointed out. “Albeit a fallen angel, but still…”

“You really wanna compare yourself with him?”

“Ya finished?” Bobby interrupted. “And let me answer that fer ya; yer finished. Now, someone want to explain just why the hell yer all appearing in my house with only a vague five second warning?”

“We’re heading out to the house right now to do the salt and burn. And before you say a word about it, this is the absolute best course of action. Dad’s got only two nights where he can stay out late without it interfering with his job and we can’t afford to waste one of them.”

Bobby looked down at him. “Let me see yer research.”

“Don’t got time.” Dean shrugged.

“We aren’t going to be able to check in with you before every hunt.” Dean’s father spoke up. “Nor do I think you’d want us to. You need to trust us just as we need to trust our own judgment, which can’t happen if you’re looking over our shoulders.”

“Well, ain’t you guys got all the answers. How long ya practice those speeches ‘fore coming here?”

“Just pulled ‘em outta our asses right now.” Dean admitted.

“It shows. But yer right. Just don’t get yerselves killed.”

“Hey, I’m an awesome experienced hunter with an angel, a kickass ex-hunter, and one of the best future hunters ever. We got this.”

“Yer an idjit is what you are.”

Dean grinned. “Love you too, Bobby.”

His mom put the diaper bag down and placed Sammy on the ground in front of it. The baby happily cooed and then started commando-crawling across the floor. 

“What ya doing with the little one while yer digging up bodies?”

“That’s your job, ‘uncle’ Bobby.” Dean informed him. Then he turned to Cas. “Let’s go.”

“What?” Bobby’s startled response reached them just as they disappeared from his house. 

They appeared in the same exact spot that he and Cas had the previous day. Dean’s dad handed a shovel each to the other two full-sized adults and they immediately went to their predetermined spots. His dad began to dig around a weeping cherry tree that looked like it was only a few months away from falling over all on its own. Dean’s mom was shoveling away the dirt near the rose trellises. And Cas was working to unearth a particularly ugly collection of sticks that was once a decorative whatever-the-hell-fruit tree. And Dean stood in a spot where he could keep an eye on all of them and the house as well. As he swept the area, he noticed that his mom kept glancing over at him.

“Mom, I’m the lookout, not you.”

“I know.”

“Then stop looking over here. This isn’t gonna work if you don’t trust me to watch your backs. I get it that I’m your son and you don’t want me hurt, but on the job we all gotta be a team. If I get special attention, it could screw everything up, ‘cause it’ll distract you from everything else going on around us.”

“Alright. I’ll try.” His mom gave in with a sigh.

Dean knew that this wasn’t easy for her. Or his father. If truth be told, it wasn’t easy for him either because he was afraid of his parents getting injured or worse. Especially since he was terrified of the idea that they might sacrifice themselves to keep him safe. Dean knew that he’d give his own life up for his family without a second thought, but he didn’t want it to work the other way around. _Yeah, I’m a damned hypocrite. So freakin’ sue me._

An hour later, Dean was getting nervous. Cyclops had yet to make an appearance and that was unexpected. Unexpected crap on a hunt was never a good thing. The ghost had to know that they were there by now. Either he was leaving them alone because he didn’t consider them a threat (which made no sense after he had previously attacked a little girl), he was scared of them (yeah, right), or he was waiting for the right moment. Dean wondered what that moment would be. 

With a crack, the ugly tree that Cas was digging around broke and fell. The angel spared it a quick look before going back to his job. Dean was impressed with how well his friend was adjusting to this new life. During the day, Cas would help out around the Winchesters’ home, research stuff with Dean, and participate in the hunter training. At night, he’d accompany Dean into the dream-world where they’d goof off and just enjoy themselves, sometimes going places and having fun, other times just quietly hanging out and resting. Dean didn’t know what the angel’s day to day life was like before they’d gone back in time but it couldn’t possibly have many similarities to this. Yet Cas never complained. And Dean was beyond grateful to have a friend from his previous life with him. No one in this world would ever understand him the way that Cas could. And it appeared that with some training and guidance, the angel made a halfway decent hunter. Although Dean still wouldn’t trust him with the human interaction portions of the research for the hunts.

“I do not believe this is the right spot.” Cas called out.

“Well, try the next tree.” Dean’s father responded.

Dean continued scanning the area. Then he saw a flicker right near his mom.

“Mom! Get down!” He screamed.

She dropped out of sight just as the ghost of Trenton Craig appeared. Dean aimed and fired. The salt bb left the gun and flew right into the spirit, dispersing it on impact.

“Everyone get to Mom’s dig site! There’s a reason it went for her!” 

His dad and Cas obeyed without question. It was weird barking orders to his own father and having the man listen to him. 

Dean stepped over to the group and stood close by, guarding them. Some ghosts stayed away for a long time once dispersed, while others were gone for mere seconds. Now that Ol’ One-eye showed, Dean knew that he’d keep popping up until his ugly ass was fried.

The boy shifted from foot to foot impatiently. He’d never been too good at the waiting game and had bugged the crap out of Sam with his fidgeting during downtime, but now that problem was even worse. It seemed that children had no ability to stand still at all. And the flood of conflicting emotions drowning his brain didn’t help the situation either. But he didn’t have to worry about that for too long. The ghost appeared to his right, practically growling at him in rage.

Dean spun around and fired. The salt dispersed the spirit once again. This was actually kind of fun. And it made him feel more like himself. Well, like his adult-self, anyway. 

He saw something flicker out of the corner of his eye and turned to fire. But then the small hunter froze. The ghost was not huge, bald, and missing an eye. As a matter of fact, the spirit wasn’t even a dude. There, in front of him, was a very attractive dead chick. She was probably only just above five foot and had long red hair and delicate features. She was dressed in a light, thin-strapped summer dress and sandals. She looked at him with large, frightened looking eyes. Dean hesitated, trying to figure out who she could be. Then the woman’s face shifted to a look of murderous insanity and she charged forwards, coming right at him.

“Leave him alone!” She shrieked.

Dean pulled the trigger and watched her disappear.

“What the hell? Who was that?” Dean exclaimed, looking around wildly, half expecting more ghosts to start appearing at any second. 

“I think that was Trenton Craig’s wife.” His mom replied.

“His what?”

“His wife. The reports I found said that he was married. But when the cops went to question her, they couldn’t track her down.”

“And I’m just finding out about this now?” Dean knew that he shouldn’t use that particular tone with his own mother, but he couldn’t help it. He hated it when unknown complications suddenly came up in the middle of a hunt.

“Honestly, I thought that she was either one of his victims or that she took off when she found out that her husband was psychotic.”

“Well, since she’s popping her ghostly head up here, I’d wager that she was more an accomplice than a victim.” 

“Well, why didn’t that little girl report seeing her ghost too?” His dad asked.

“Dead-chick only seemed to show up when the mentally unstable love of her un-life was in danger.” Dean offered. 

“But no one ever reported Craig working with a small woman when he robbed the houses.” His mom pointed out.

Dean thought it over for a moment, still keeping an eye out for either ghost. “Most likely, she waited in the car for him. Maybe a getaway driver. If he never came back out from this house, she may have gone looking for him.”

“And if the guy who lived here was forced to kill her too, he definitely wouldn’t have called out the cops.” Dean’s father finished his son’s thoughts.

“Sorry I didn’t say anything about her.” 

Dean had calmed a bit and so he sent his mom a shrug and a smile. “It’s okay. We never would’ve suspected her or predicted that she’d be a vengeful ghost bitch, so it wouldn’t’ve mattered anyways.”

“If there are two ghosts, shouldn’t we have two lookouts just in case they both show up at the same time?” His dad questioned.

“Look at Dad, becoming a hunter already.” Dean commented. “Nice planning. Mom, drop the shovel and grab a gun. You cover Dad, I’ll cover Cas.” 

As soon as his mother had picked up a shotgun, Dean stepped closer to the angel and looked around the area again. Nothing. That wasn’t a good sign. No way in hell had the spirits been scared off, which meant that they were possibly planning something. And he doubted that it would be something nice.

His father’s plan turned out to be a very good one as both spirits appeared simultaneously; Cyclops right near the eldest Winchester and dead-chick behind Cas. The shotgun was so much louder than the airgun and if he hadn’t felt the kickback and then seen the ghost bitch disperse, Dean might’ve even questioned if his weapon had fired. But it had and in the space of a second, both ghosts were gone. 

“Oh, yeah!” Dean called out. He felt almost giddy with excitement. His physical age seemed to amplify positive emotions just as much as it had the negative ones. But the young hunter made sure not to let it distract him from the job at hand. That would be dangerous.

His attentiveness couldn’t save him though when just moments later, One-eye popped up just inches to his left. The boy didn’t even have the time or the space to turn and aim, let alone fire his weapon, when the ghost grabbed him and threw him to the ground. Dean let out a cry as his small body hit the ground. The air was forced out of him on impact, but he could already tell that he’d gotten no real injuries from the attack. 

A shot rang out and the angry-looking ghost hovering over him disappeared.

“Thanks, Mom! I fine! Stay where you are and watch Dad’s back!” Dean called out. He didn’t want her to leave her position and rush over to him.

The boy had just propped himself up on his elbows and was getting ready to stand when the ghost chick appeared next to him. She lifted him into the air and threw him even further than her husband had. Damn, but she was strong for a little thing. Like he was one to talk about size, right?

Dean’s body hit the fence to what had once been the vegetable garden and went right through. He grunted as he hit the ground hard for the second time in only a minute. He’d have to find some way to thank Bobby for this ‘easy’ hunt.

Dean went to sit up again but the ghost bitch appeared right over him. The small hunter tried to scoot back and away from her, cursing the fact that he always seemed to lose his freakin’ weapon in these situations. He heard Cas call to him and was about to yell back that he needed some help when the dead chick plunged her icy-cold hand into his chest.


	31. A Hunter’s Job

Chapter Thirty-One: A Hunter’s Job

Castiel saw his young friend get thrown through an old wooden fence by the female spirit before she flickered out of sight. He was debating on whether to keep digging or go to Dean’s side. While he wanted to be with the small hunter and make certain that he was okay, the angel knew that the only way to end this for real was to find the bodies. But he had to make sure that Dean was alright. 

“Dean! Are you okay? Do you require help?”

At first there was no response, but then a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. It was Dean’s high, childish voice and it was filled with pain. Castiel turned to the boy’s parents. 

“Keep digging. We have to end this. I’ll get Dean.”

Dean had been coaching him over the last month and a half on how to act like a normal human. Don’t tell the whole truth all the time, don’t question every expression that people say, don’t comment on how odd others may act, and don’t teleport to somewhere that you could easily walk to. Castiel felt that he’d been doing a pretty good job with most of these human rules. But now he was going to break that last one. It would save him at least thirteen seconds if he appeared at Dean’s side rather than running to him and having to climb over the broken fence. So, the angel dropped the shovel and picked up the iron rod. Then he willed himself to be with Dean.

It wasn’t until he’d reached his friend that Castiel saw the female spirit crouched down next to the boy. Her hand was in Dean’s chest as the boy writhed on the ground and whimpered in agony. Castiel didn’t hesitate. He swung his weapon and watched the ghost disperse as the iron disrupted her form. The angel dropped to his knees next to his friend.

“Dean? Dean, are you alright?”

The child who was once a fully-grown hunter groaned but tried to nod. His little hands came up to clutch at his chest and his entire body trembled. Castiel unzipped and opened the small winter coat and placed a hand on the boy’s chest to feel his heart beat. It was all wrong; beating rapidly, then stopping only to start again but too slowly and then picking up pace until it was much too quick. Dean continued to convulse, his back raising up off the ground and then slamming back down. But despite the frightening sight before him, the angel sensed that the boy would be okay. There was no permanent damage done. Dean would just have to ride out the after effects of the spirit’s vicious attack. 

When Dean’s large, pleading eyes met his, Castiel gently pulled the small body into his lap and held him close. The trembling was bad but not as terrible as his seizures that had been brought on by the nightmares, so the angel wasn’t too concerned. Well, okay, that was a lie. He had always been worried about his friend and it had increased when Dean’s size had decreased, especially when the boy was facing down supernatural creatures. But Castiel respected his friend too much to treat him as a child and try to shelter him from the jobs that Dean had to do. That didn’t mean, however, that he wouldn’t be there for the young hunter whenever he was needed. 

“Oh my God! Is he okay?” 

Castiel turned his head to see Mary standing over them, staring down at her son with a look of horror on her face. 

“M…mom? Wh…what are you… Dad…” Dean managed to choke out.

Castiel understood immediately. “Mary, you have to get back to John. He shouldn’t be without backup.”

“But Dean…”

“I have him. Go.”

With a reluctant glance back at her son, Mary turned to go back to her husband. Castiel understood her desire to make sure that Dean was alright, but she’d done exactly what her son had feared and forgotten her job when she got scared for him. A dangerous mistake. 

“Ahhh!” John’s voice rang out and Castiel stood up holding Dean against his chest in one arm while picking up his iron rod from where he’d laid it on the ground with the other. 

Once he was standing, Castiel could see John lying on the ground near the hole they’d dug, one shovel still held in his hand while the other was being wielded by the male spirit. Blood trickled from a wound on John’s head. It wasn’t too hard to guess what had happened. 

Dean’s head rested on Castiel’s shoulder as the angel held the still trembling boy against his left side tightly. The small hunter moaned and tried to turn his head to see what was going on. Mary lifted her shotgun and fired the salt rounds into the spirit. She was at her husband’s side almost before the ghost had completely disappeared. 

Castiel carried Dean back over to his parents. John was just sitting up, looking dazed but relatively okay. Mary helped him to his feet. They were about to head over to Castiel, but the angel shook his head.

“Dean will be fine. Finish the job.”

John blinked at him, somewhat confused, but climbed carefully back into the hole. A moment later, dirt began to be thrown out. Mary stood holding the shotgun and scanning the area, obviously struggling not to keep checking on Dean. And as for Dean, his tremors had finally ceased and his heart rate and breathing seemed to be returning to normal. 

“Put me down, Cas.” His young friend ordered.

Castiel took a moment to make certain that the boy’s body was working well enough and then placed Dean on his feet. The angel was pleased to see that he didn’t stumble or sway at all. He could tell that the child was embarrassed about being carried around during a hunt, but was trying to save what he felt was left of his dignity. Castiel retrieved Dean’s weapon and handed it back to him.

“Are you well enough to…” He never got a chance to finish the question as Dean raised the airgun and fired it. The shot went over the angel’s shoulder. Castiel wondered which of the spirits Dean had just protected him from. 

The boy smirked up at him, his young face only slightly pale. “That give you your answer?”

Castiel allowed a small smile to grace his lips. “A simple ‘yes’ would’ve worked as well.”

“But that was perfect timing and so much cooler.”

Castiel didn’t dispute that. Instead, the angel rejoined John in the task of digging up the remains. No one had mentioned the fact that there was a chance that the two bodies might not be buried in the same spot. But, as Dean would say, they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. 

A short cry rang out and Castiel recognized the voice as Mary’s just seconds before she crashed into her husband. It seemed that these spirits enjoyed throwing people around. If only they realized that all they’d accomplish is delaying the inevitable and angering the Winchesters. And the angel was quite certain that many people and creatures would agree that angering the Winchesters was not a very intelligent move. 

The airgun went off again as Dean’s voice yelled out “Stay the hell away from my family!”

Mary and John both got to their feet. As the woman climbed back out, her husband picked up the shovel to continue his job. Castiel saw that the blood had almost finished oozing from his head wound, signaling that it wasn’t as bad as it had first appeared. A moment later, the eldest Winchester called to the others.

“Found something!”

“A chest fulla gold doubloons?” Dean asked.

“You’re a barrel of laughs, son.” John shook his head and then winced at the motion. “It’s a hand.”

Castiel helped the man clear out all the dirt from around the corpse. They both ignored the sound of the guns going off. They had to stay focused on the job at hand. When the body of the man was almost completely exposed, Castiel saw a female’s foot lying on his dirt encrusted trousers. He pointed it out to John and they exchanged looks of relief. They wouldn’t need to try and find the second body.

Castiel was pleasantly surprised at how well John Winchester was handling their unique situation. He knew full well all of the terrible mistakes that the man had made in the original timeline and had feared that they wouldn’t change. Then, when John had reacted so poorly at first, the angel had assumed that his fears had been confirmed. But over the last few weeks, John had been more a father to Dean than he had in all the years he’d lived the first time around. Castiel was pleased, as he hadn’t wanted to have to step in and try to change the man himself, which he would’ve done if it had come to that. He wasn’t going to let Dean be treated like little more than a soldier all over again. His friend deserved better than that. 

It took not much time at all to completely unbury the two bodies. Then, he and John climbed out of the hole they’d dug so that they could cover the corpses in salt and fuel and burn them.

As soon as he’d reached the top, something pushed him backwards. At first, the angel assumed that it had been one of the spirits, but then he realized that Dean had thrown his small body into him in an attempt to knock him over. Trusting the young hunter, Castiel allowed himself to fall backwards and saw a shovel fly over his head at an incredibly fast speed. Dean had just saved him from sustaining a similar injury to what John had.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Dean rolled off of him after they heard the shotgun fire. 

The boy grabbed the container of salt from the bag and tossed it to his father. Castiel picked up the gas can. After John was finished, the angel doused the bodies with the fuel. Then he watched as the hunter-in-training lit a match and dropped it in. Both spirits reappeared just in time to incinerate along with their earthly remains. 

John’s eyes widened at the sight, but the other two humans merely sighed in relief. Then they started packing up their supplies. 

“You shouldn’t’ve come looking for me, Mom.”

“That ghost threw you, Dean. I heard you scream.”

“Yeah, but Cas had already got to me. You left Dad without any backup. I told you not to do that.”

“I know I shouldn’t have left your father alone but what was I supposed to do?”

“Watch his back! That was your job.”

“Being a mother is also my job.” She shot back.

Castiel suppressed the desire to groan and shake his head. He had known that this was coming, but had hoped that they’d wait a while. 

“Not while we’re hunting, it’s not. When we’re out like this, you gotta stop treating me like a kid.”

“You are a kid, Dean.”

And that was the wrong thing to say.

“No, I’m not! I’m a hunter, Mom. I got my ass kicked out in the field a million times and survived just fine without being coddled.”

“I had to know that you were alright.”

“And if the freakin’ ghost had killed Dad rather than just cracking his skull? Then what?”

“Dean…”

Whatever her response would’ve been was cut off by the sound of sirens getting closer. Apparently, the neighbors had finally decided to call in the shotgun blasts they’d heard to the police. 

“Perhaps this discussion can wait until we are not in a position to get arrested?” Castiel suggested. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” John quickly agreed.

“Fine.” Dean mumbled and turned, but not before Castiel saw him swipe his sleeve across his face. The stress and emotions of the moment had obviously been too much for him in his current condition. Castiel felt bad for him but knew Dean well enough to not mention it. 

The group crowded around Castiel and he quickly transported them all back to Bobby’s house. The hunt had been a success, and hopefully the issues that had come about because of it would be resolved just as well.


	32. Lessons

Chapter Thirty-Two: Lessons 

Dean tried to reign in his emotions as they all appeared in Bobby’s living room. His back was a little sore and probably bruised and his chest still felt tight and a bit painful but all in all he was okay. But his dad had gotten a pretty nasty looking head wound and it was all his fault. If he’d been more alert, faster, stronger, and a better hunter then the ghost wouldn’t have been able to throw him and his mom wouldn’t have had to leave her post to check on him and his dad wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Their first hunt together as a family and he’d screwed it up. The story of his life.

“Well, yer all alive. Better than what I’d expected.” Bobby commented.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and walked past the others. “Gotta take a pee.” He muttered.

“What the hell happened?” Dean heard Bobby ask as he trudged out of the room. He purposefully didn’t wait around to listen to the answer though, not wanting to hear a blow by blow account of what he’d done wrong.

Was he a little pissed at his mom still for forgetting her hunter training and running after him? Sure, he was. He’d specifically told her not to do it and she hadn’t listened. But when it came down to it, he remembered all the times that he’d thrown his own training out the window, along with his common sense, to rush to Sam’s rescue. He’d felt responsible for his younger brother and had done whatever it took to protect him. Dean had been stupid to believe that his parents wouldn’t feel the same way about him. But it was such a foreign concept. His dad had certainly never shown that level of concern for him when he was growing up. If he was hurt, Dad would merely finish up the hunt and yell at him for his mistakes afterwards. Being looked after and taken care of was going to be a hell of an adjustment for him. But he had to get used to it and figure out how to stop his parents from risking themselves for him.

Once he was safely alone in the locked bathroom, Dean sat on the closed toilet seat and hung his head. He had to admit that the hunt could’ve gone far worse, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be positive. Because there was always the chance that his parents had finally seen him for the pathetic screw-up that so many others had told him that he was. 

Dean swiped angrily at his face. Tears again. When had he become such a cry baby? Oh, yeah, when he’d woken up in this tiny, good for nothing body. But no. Dean Winchester didn’t do tears. Dean Winchester didn’t cry. Dean Winchester got pissed. The boy hopped up and punched the wall. Once. Twice. Three times. Over and over until his small fist was screaming in pain. He wanted to lash out with his feet too, but that seemed far too close to a temper tantrum and he wasn’t going to go there. 

Finally, he stopped and cradled his throbbing right hand. Great. His left arm was still in a cast and now his right knuckles were bruised and bleeding. Just perfect. 

Luckily, no one had come running at the noise he’d made. He did not want to explain this to anyone at the moment. Or maybe luck had nothing to do with the fact that no one had heard him. It was far more likely that all the yelling going on in the other room had drowned out any sounds he’d made.

Dean crept up to the bathroom door, unlocked it, eased it open, and then slipped quietly into the hall. Once he’d almost reached the doorway to Bobby’s living room, he stopped and pressed himself up against the wall. This seemed like the kind of thing that was best overheard from another room.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary forced herself not to follow her son as he left the room. She knew that he was lying about needing the bathroom and that he just wanted to be alone. Surely after everything that night, she could grant him that much. 

“What the hell happened?” Bobby asked.

She turned to face the man and tried to think of a response. She was saved by an angel.

“We got rid of the problem.” Castiel stated.

“Well, don’t overwhelm me with all those details.” The older hunter muttered.

Mary couldn’t help but smile. She was beginning to understand why her son was such good friends with this man. “We were digging in the spots that we had decided were the most likely for Trenton Craig to have been buried.”

“So, ya figured out the ghost’s name. Good fer ya.”

“Well, we’d figured out one of them.” John mumbled, gingerly touching his head wound. Mary was glad that he was ex-Marine, as most civilians would’ve just stayed down after receiving a blow to the head. But her husband was a tough, stubborn man. Always had been.

“One of ‘em?”

That’s when it occurred to her that not even expert hunter Bobby Singer knew that there had been two spirits. She suddenly didn’t feel so bad about her incomplete intel.

“Yeah.” She replied. “It turns out that his wife was haunting the place with him.”

“It took us by surprise.” John added.

“So is that how ya got yer head bashed in?”

Mary exchanged a somewhat guilty expression with her husband before confessing. “No. That was my fault. Dean got thrown by the woman’s ghost and when I went to go check on him, the other ghost attacked John.”

“And where were you when this was all going down?” Bobby asked Castiel in a somewhat accusing tone.

“With Dean.”

“So ya both left the newest hunter by himself?” Now Bobby sounded like he was going to bite their heads off for sure.

Mary tried to keep her tone quiet but found it difficult with all the emotions that were filling the small, dingy room. “Castiel went to Dean immediately and told me to stay and watch John’s back. But then I heard Dean screaming and they didn’t come back right away and… and I couldn’t stop myself from going to check on Dean.”

“Well, next time, ya better stop yerself.”

“What? But he’s my son…” She practically shouted.

“Yeah, he is. And how do ya think yer son would react if he thought that he got his daddy killed? ‘Cause I guarantee ya that that’s exactly how he’d see it if worse came ta worse.”

Mary knew that she’d screwed up, but it wasn’t exactly something that she wanted to hear. “And what am I supposed to do?”

“Yer son’s in a position like no one else has ever been in. And it would be a mistake ta think that any of us understand what he’s going through. But yer angel here’s got the best idea of it. So, Cas, what do ya think Dean’s feeling when his mom here puts his daddy in danger ta go take care of him?”

Castiel looked briefly like a deer caught in the headlights and then actually scowled at Bobby for putting him in that position. But he answered anyways. “Dean likely feels as though he messed up the hunt and was a failure. He is probably thinking that he has lost your trust and respect. And he is almost certainly annoyed at being treated like a small child, especially since you told him that that is what he is.”

“Ya told him that?”

Mary was beyond frustrated. “Yes, I did. I just… I know that he has more hunting experience than any of us, but he is small and can easily be injured. And he’s also my son. Even if he was physically an adult, I would still worry about him. I love him.”

“And that’s wonderful ta hear.” Bobby replied. “He’s gonna need ta know that. But he’s also gonna need ta be treated as an equal. With respect.”

Mary knew that he was right. But she also knew that she would protect her son at all costs. And not just because he looked like a little boy. As a mother, her heart broke every time she allowed herself to think about what her first born son had already lived through in his life, and if she could stop him from having to experience even more pain… well, what kind of mom would she be if she had that chance and didn’t take it? 

“But…”

“Now hear me out. Ya gotta let him hunt without smotherin’ the kid but I get it that yer not gonna want anything bad ta happen ta him. And he’s gotta be feeling the same ‘bout you both. He lost his mom and dad the first time ‘round and ya better believe he’s gonna be protectin’ ya both as much, if not more, than yer gonna be protecting’ him. So, here’s yer solution. And I know yer listenin’ in, boy, so get yer little ass outta my hall and join the conversation.” Mary jumped in surprise as her son sheepishly walked into the room. Oh god, he’d heard the whole thing.

“Fine, I’m here.”

“Don’t sulk.” Bobby ordered him. “Ya say yer thirty? Act it.”

“He was actually like this before I brought him back to this time.” Castiel offered helpfully.

“Thanks a lot, Cas.” But Dean actually smiled at his friend.

“Look, here’s the deal. You can all protect each other if yer smart ‘bout it. That means no one gets left alone. If the angel’s with Dean and you just gotta check on him, bring yer husband with ya. Dean, you do the same when the time comes that you wanna check on one of yer parents. No one gets left alone.” Bobby repeated the sentence slowly and with force behind his words. “And no one puts their own life in danger needlessly. Ya find the smartest way ta keep everyone safe. Not one of ya wants yer loved ones dying ta keep ya safe. And no selling yer souls. Think ya can handle that?”

Mary saw both John and Castiel nod, even though she wasn’t sure how well her concussed husband was actually following the conversation. Dean bit his lip as he thought it all over. She saw him hesitate, but then nod too. So she followed their lead. Bobby was making sense. 

“So, who’s gonna finish tellin’ me ‘bout yer first hunt?”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Bobby walked into the kitchen to get himself a beer after he’d taken care of John’s head wound. Truthfully, he wanted something a helluva a lot stronger but the Winchesters were still in his house and he’d somehow become the damned voice of reason; something that strong liquor wasn’t going to help. That family had the potential to become the best hunters out there, if only they could get their acts together and figure out how to work with each other under their strange set of circumstances. 

“I don’t suppose you’d wanna give me one of those too?”

Bobby turned to see Dean looking at the can in his hand. Bobby popped the top and took a long gulp before answering. “Nope. You’d die of alcohol poisoning after yer first sip.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“So, what ya doing in my kitchen? ‘Cause yer not really dumb enough ta think I’d let ya have a drink.”

Dean shrugged his small shoulders. “Don’t know. Just… didn’t wannna sit in there right now.”

“It’ll get better, boy.” At Dean’s skeptical look, Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder. “It will. Yer parents’ll get used ta hunting with ya and you’ll get used ta them. That’s why you guys needed this easier hunt ta start off. Imagine how yer mom woulda reacted had a werewolf gone after ya.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the thought. “Yeah, that wouldn’t’ve been pretty.”

“Ya know that she’s always gonna act like a mom, right?”

“Yeah, I get that. Don’t think I really thought it over much before now, but I get it. It’s just…”

“Ya ain’t really a kid and don’t wanna be treated like one.”

“Yeah.”

“Get used ta it. It ain’t gonna go away.” When Dean went to protest, Bobby held up his hand. “But if ya keep doing yer job, you’ll prove that ya ain’t just a little boy and that’s when it’ll get easier on everyone.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“You’ve known me fer years and yer just realizing now that I’m always right?” Bobby teased.

“Says the idiot that stuck around as a ghost after he died.” The child’s teasing tone softened the words.

“I think yer making that up.”

“No way. You just have issues accepting the truth.”

“Whatever ya say boy.”

“You mean to say that whatever I say is always right, huh, old man?”

“’Old man’? I’ll show you old.”

“I’m lookin’ at old.” Dean shot back, grinning. 

“Well, least I ain’t still in diapers.”

“What? I don’t wear diapers! I was potty trained at, like, two or something.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Ya keep telling yerself that, Pre-school.”

Dean made a face. But his scowl was disrupted by a huge yawn.

“Ya better get yerself and yer family home and into bed.”

Dean didn’t even bother to argue. But he did send Bobby a grateful look before he turned and left the kitchen. 

Bobby shook his head. That family was going to have to figure out how to work together without getting themselves killed for each other. The hunter ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him that he himself would most likely put his own life on the line to protect this boy that he’d only just met.


	33. The Day Dean Never Had

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Day Dean Never Had

Dean yawned as he opened his eyes. As soon as Cas’ hand was off of his head, he stretched his arms out and sat up. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around his brightly lit room, smiling as the sunlight warmed his body. And somehow, it didn’t feel as cold as a late January morning should. A glance at the clock showed that it was eight-thirty.

“Dude! What the hell, Cas? Why’d you wake us up so late?” Normally, the angel had them up by seven so that Dean could eat breakfast with his family before his dad left for work. The boy found that he was extremely disappointed that he’d missed seeing his father that morning. 

“Sorry. I must have lost track of the time.”

Dean climbed out of bed and trudged over to his dresser. Climbing up on the stepstool that his parents had gotten for him, the boy opened his top drawer and pulled out a pair of grey underwear and matching socks. Okay, they had started their lives off as white, but this is what happened when John Winchester tried to help out with the laundry. Then Dean opened the next drawer down to select a shirt. He decided on his navy blue ‘future firefighter’ t-shirt layered under a blue and black plaid flannel. A pair of jeans completed the outfit. 

Cas had already left the room, so Dean got himself dressed and then went to the bathroom to use the toilet. He ran his fingers through his short hair in his version of combing it and then left the bathroom. He’d long since gotten used to not shaving. 

The boy reflected once again on how much easier it was to get ready in the mornings since he’d gotten his cast off a couple weeks ago. And it wasn’t a moment too soon as the itching on his skin had threatened to drive him crazy. His arm was as good as new now. Well, there were scars from where the bone had broken through the skin and where the doctors had operated, but scars were something that Dean could handle. 

All set to begin his day, the young hunter headed for the stairs. He really wished that he hadn’t gotten up so late, but then again, they’d all stayed up late the night before planning for their next hunt that was coming up in just two days. There hadn’t been much research to do since his dad had done it all the first time around. But they did look over a map of the area and plan out where each one of them would have to be and how they’d stop the werewolf. Dean was a little apprehensive because of what had happened last month during the salt and burn, but they’d gone over their plans, hunting rules, and worst case scenarios. They were as ready as they’d ever be.

Dean jumped down the last three steps and stopped dead in his tracks. Balloons and streamers decorated every inch of the living room. His mom was holding Sammy, and his dad and Cas were on either side of her. And hanging above their heads was a large colorful banner that read ‘Happy 5th Birthday Dean!’. 

“Happy Birthday!” His parents exclaimed at almost the same time.

“What… what’s all this for?”

“It’s your birthday, silly.” His mom informed him. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“No.” Dean replied quickly. But in truth, he had forgotten. He hadn’t really had his birthday celebrated like this since he had turned four and with the upcoming hunt, the day had completely slipped his mind. When he’d been younger, his dad had occasionally remembered to bring him a small gift (although almost never on his actual birthday) but as he’d gotten older there had been nothing of importance to mark the day. But this… this was just plain awesome. 

“Well, don’t just stand there. Get over here so we can start the celebration!” How was it that his dad’s orders were just so much more fun to follow now than they’d ever been in the first timeline?

Dean ran over to his family and, on an impulse, he hugged his father. The man picked him up and threw him in the air. After catching him, his dad gave him to his mom, who’d handed a squealing baby Sammy over to Cas. She held Dean tightly and then placed him back down on his feet. 

“So where’s the birthday cake?” Dean asked.

“You haven’t even had breakfast yet.” His mom pointed out.

“Cake makes a wonderful breakfast.” The boy informed her.

“I think we should start the day with something healthier.” She countered.

“Actually, most breakfast cereals and pastries don’t have any more nutritional value than a dessert would contain.” Castiel spoke up.

“See! How can you argue that logic?” Dean exclaimed.

“Like this: I’m the mom and I say no cake for breakfast.”

“That’s not a real argument.” Dean muttered under his breath.

After a breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausages, and pancakes, the Winchester parents got up from the table and went to the coat closet. Dean watched curiously as they took all the winter jackets out. 

“Where’re we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” Was all his dad would say.

“I don’t want it to be a surprise.”

“Tough.”

“C’mon, can’t you just tell me?”

His mom smiled down at him. “Get your coat on and get in the car and you’ll find out.”

“Cas?”

“I don’t know anymore about our destination than you do.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you after you conspired with my parents to keep all this a secret from me?” Dean gestured to the decorations adorning the living room.

“I promise you that I know nothing more about the activities for the day.”

“We didn’t tell him anything.” Dean’s father confirmed.

In desperation, Dean turned to the last member of the family he had left to interrogate. “Alright, Sammy, what’s going on? You know something, so spill.”

The almost-nine month old giggled at him.

“Just put your coat on Dean.” His dad instructed. 

With a sigh of resignation, the boy did as he was told. 

Something in the back of his head was trying to speak up during the whole car trip to tell him that he should know where they were going. But he was unsure of how he could know. After all, he hadn’t even remembered that today was his birthday.

The car ride took about an hour. Dean sat in the middle of the back seat, between Sammy’s car seat and Cas. For a while, the boy had tried to look out the window and figure out their destination, but after a few minutes, he’d lost interest. Thus, Dean was caught off guard when the Impala pulled into a parking spot and came to a stop. He climbed out after Cas and looked around. When he saw the building, he just stared at it. Dean couldn’t believe that they were actually here.

“Now, I know that you’re not really a kid anymore, but even _I_ still find these places interesting, so I’m hoping that you won’t think that this is too lame. But I did promise you this trip for your birthday months ago and I couldn’t go back on it just because things got a little complicated.” His dad’s explanation seemed to reach him from a million miles away as Dean continued to stare. “I’m sure you’ve been to plenty of these places before, so I guess I missed out on giving you you’re first trip to the aquarium, but…”

“No.” Dean interrupted. “No, I’ve never been to one of these.” He could tell that his own voice sounded far off as he tried to snap himself out of all the memories and emotions that just seeing this large, concrete, metal, and glass building were drawing out of him. “I wanted to. You’d promised, I remembered that, but we never went. For years when I was little, I would try to find a hunt that was in an aquarium so that we’d have a reason to go. But I never found one. And then, when I was older, it just… it wasn’t the same if I went by myself.” Dean stopped talking as he remembered staying home from school the day they had had a fieldtrip to the aquarium. It had been silly of course. By that time he was certain that his father would never make good on that promise to bring him to one, but part of him had wanted to wait for his dad just in case. And now… now it looked like all his waiting had paid off. He was about to go into his first aquarium with his family by his side. Snapping out of the emotional daze, he turned to his parents and Cas with a grin. “Well, what the hell are we waiting for? Let’s go in!”

His mom pushed the stroller with Sammy in it while Dean ran ahead with the other two adults not too far behind. It was anything but lame. The tanks were filled with all sorts of sea creatures from brightly colored fish, to whales, sharks, seals, jellyfish, eels, and an array of other bizarre things. He held Sammy up so that the baby could see some of the attractions and when the tanks were too high even for him, Dean sat on his dad’s shoulders. He got to reach into a tank to touch the starfish and manta-rays and laughed when the ray swished its tail and splashed water all over Cas. He got his picture taken sticking his head into the mouth of a large shark statue right before an attendant told him that he wasn’t allowed to climb on the exhibits. They finished the trip off in the gift shop where his mom bought him a black t-shirt with a picture of shark teeth and the words ‘Watch Out, I Bite’ and Dean used the money he had to buy Sammy the stuffed starfish that the baby was eyeing. 

On the way home, they stopped off at a pizza restaurant. Dean filled himself up on garlic breadsticks and pepperoni pizza but still made room for the ice cream sundae that his parents ordered him for desert. He even shared a bit with Sammy, who went wide-eyed at the taste of the hot fudge.

Once they got back to the house, Dean flopped down on the couch, feeling a bit tired after the busy day. He knew better than to sleep without Cas around to help keep the Hell memories away, but he could still rest up a bit. The boy lay on his side, watching Sammy happily crawling around the room. Dean’s eyes kept straying to the balloons, streamers, and banners decorating the room. It was his birthday and they had thrown him a party. He was still having a hard time processing it. 

“Hey buddy, you just going to lie there or are you going to get up to open your presents?”

Dean sat up and looked at his dad, who’d just entered the room holding brightly wrapped packages.

“Presents?”

“No birthday is complete without gifts.” His mom informed him, stepping up behind his father. Cas suddenly appeared on the couch next to him, causing Dean to jump.

His dad cleared his throat to get the boy’s attention. “Now, we did get you most of these before the events in November, but we got rid of the stuffed dinosaur and the bath toys, so there shouldn’t be anything too babyish.”

Dean nodded as his dad placed the stack of presents down on the ground in front of him. He tore the paper off of the first one. It was a new baseball glove. 

“Your old one had been getting small on you. I thought you’d be doing little league again, so…” His dad shrugged.

“Thanks.” Dean responded. He opened the next. It was a denim over-shirt, obviously a gift picked out recently. The next was a remote controlled car. Dean assured his parents that even thirty wasn’t too old for one of those. And finally the board game ‘Battleship’. Dean grinned as he thanked his parents only to have his dad hold up a hand.

“Wait on that, because we’re not done yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Castiel, if you don’t mind…”

Dean turned to Cas who nodded his head once and then disappeared. He reappeared seconds later holding a fully assembled black and silver bicycle. Dean stared at it.

“Is that… that’s for me?”

“Well, Castiel sure as hell won’t be able to ride it.” Dean’s dad replied.

“I never had a bike.” Dean admitted.

“It’s been in the basement since September.” His mom revealed.

“I guess it was never retrieved after the fire. And… it’s not like we had room to take a bike with us.” Dean couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It was silly. He was in his thirties and was getting all worked up over a birthday party, a trip to the aquarium, and now a bike. But he couldn’t help it. These were things that he’d accepted long ago that he’d never have and a small part of him had died with each new thing added to that list. But now… now that list was shrinking and he felt as though he was actually living rather than just being alive. It was a strange and wonderful feeling. But, being Dean, he tried to swallow back the emotion and act like this was all no big deal. “But now I got one, so all’s cool. Thanks guys. It’s awesome.”

His parents took turns hugging him. 

“I’m glad you like all the presents, sweetie.”

“Enjoy them, son.”

Dean spent the next few hours just having some fun. He drove the remote controlled car around the room and watched as Sammy chased it. He’d slow it down until the baby had almost grabbed it and then speed up and laugh as Sammy screeched at the car. Then Dean taught Cas to play Battleship. Afterwards, he tried out his new glove until he and his dad got scolded for playing catch inside the house. Dinner was followed by a double layer chocolate cake with a crème filling and chocolate frosting. His mom had written ‘Happy Birthday Dean’ in blue icing. 

After they sung ‘happy birthday’ to him, he was instructed to make a wish and blow out the candles. Dean closed his eyes. Please let me be able to protect my family and keep all the tragedy we suffered the first time around far away. He blew all five flames out with one breath.

Once the cake was eaten (and man was it delicious) Dean went upstairs to take his bath. It was getting late and he was beyond tired. He was still uncomfortable with his mom staying in the bathroom while he bathed, but she insisted that five still wasn’t old enough to be left alone. She did her best not to look in his direction, though, even as she helped him out of the tub. After his mom had left the room, Dean finished toweling off and then got dressed into his pajamas. The boy climbed up onto the stepstool and brushed his teeth. Hopping down, he turned off the lights and left the bathroom.

Dean was in a near perfect mood as he walked down the hall and to his room. He could hear Cas downstairs, helping his mom with the dishes, but knew that the angel would be up in a few minutes. Dean was still smiling up until he entered his bedroom. Then the smile fell. His father was sitting on his bed with an unreadable expression on his face, and the journal lying open on his lap. Dean didn’t know what he’d been reading, but judging by the atmosphere in the room, it wasn’t anything good. Not surprising since there wasn’t anything remotely cheerful or uplifting in that book.

“Dad, what’re you doing?”

“Reading.”

“I can see that. But why? I told you never to read that!” Dean practically shouted as he closed the distance between them.

His dad’s head snapped up. “ _You_ don’t get to tell _me_ what to do!” 

Dean backed up at his father’s tone. It was one he recognized too well. And it was usually followed by a rough shove or an object flying at him. It was the tone used when Dean screwed up really bad. But what the hell could he have possibly done wrong? And how was he supposed to react? Was he supposed to fall back to the ‘good son’ crap or go into rebellion mode? He was saved from deciding when his dad spoke up again.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry I yelled. I think I understand why you didn’t want me to see this. But I couldn’t stop myself. Today… you just… I was worried about today. I was afraid that no thirty year old was going to enjoy a birthday like your mother and I had planned. But then I watched you and you looked like you’d never experienced anything like today before in your entire life. And it made me thrilled that I could make you happy but it also made me wonder what your birthday was like last time. So I checked. And at first I was confused as to why this journal was some big secret since there’s not a speck of personal information in it but then I realized the problem.” Dean watched as his father raise the journal back up and listened as the man read. “’January twenty-fourth, nineteen eighty-four. Went to question the witnesses today. No one would tell anything different from the police reports. They’re obviously holding back information. Autopsy reports show signs of vicious mauling. The heart was missing, just like the others. Locals claim to know nothing.’” His dad put the journal back down. “I went to interrogate several witnesses, got a copy of the autopsy reports, and asked questions around town. That sounds like an all-day investigation to me. How about you?” Dean nodded. “It was your birthday. Your fifth birthday. Your first birthday without your mom. I wasn’t there at all that day either, was I?” Dean shook his head. “Where were you?”

“In a motel room. With Sammy.”

“Did I do anything for your birthday?”

“The next day, when you went out for breakfast, you also brought back a Hostess cupcake and a package of plastic army men. You apologized for not celebrating my birthday and promised to make it up to me the next year.” Dean revealed.

“And did I?”

They both knew the answer to that. “No. But by then I understood more about what was going on and I didn’t really expect anything.”

“I was a crappy father.”

“You did your best.” Dean shrugged. “The circumstances were crappy, that’s all.”

“You’d just lost your mom, Dean! You’re telling me that there were no other hunters that could’ve killed that werewolf while I took you to the aquarium like I had promised?” Now he was yelling again.

Dean had no response to that. Truth was, he’d spent most of his life defending his dad from stuff that maybe there was no real defense for. He was tired of it. 

“I’m not going to fail you again, Dean.” His dad promised. “Me, your mom, your brother, Castiel, Bobby, we’re all here for you. If I start to screw up again, you tell me. Even if it seems to piss me off, you gotta tell me, Dean. Because I swear that you’re never going to have to spend another birthday alone again. Got it.”

Dean nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” His dad dropped the journal on the nightstand and stood up. He walked past Dean, ruffling the boy’s hair as he went. “Good night, Dean. And happy birthday.”

Dean stood in that exact spot for a minute after his father had left the room. Sometimes, the man reminded him so much of the John Winchester he’d grown up with but other times, he was the dad that Dean realized he could’ve been all along. 

Dean hadn’t even stopped to consider all of the changes that coming back to this time would cause when Cas had first made the offer. Saving his mom and Sam was all that he’d thought about. But now it looked like his dad had kind of been saved too. And who knew, maybe there’d be hope for Dean himself as well.


	34. Night of the Full Moon

Chapter Thirty-Four: Night of the Full Moon

The full moon was shinning almost as bright as the sun but with none of the heat. Which sucked since it was freakin’ two o’clock in the morning and about two degrees below zero. Dean shivered despite his many layers and cursed the fact that werewolves didn’t come out only during the summer. That would make this so much more pleasant. Well, as pleasant as killing a creature that was human 99% of the time could ever be, that was. But best not to think about that.

“Are you cold?”

Dean looked up at Castiel, who was crouched down next to him behind the overgrown bushes in the public park. “What would give you that idea?” He whispered back.

“You are shivering. That usually indicates…”

“I was being sarcastic, Cas.”

“Oh. It’s hard to tell your tone of voice when you’re whispering.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Dean tried to curl further into himself to conserve body heat but it did little good. He was tiny and thin. There was no mass to generate any heat. Dean just wished that the damned creature would show up already so that they could gank its ass and go home. He was certain that his dad had come back to the motel at some point early morning in the original timeline, so hopefully this would all be over with soon. But he had no real way of knowing. The journal had no details apart from this date and the location of this park. Dean and Cas were staked out on this side and his parents were on the other side. Luckily, the park wasn’t that big, so the four of them could cover the whole grounds. But still, the waiting part sucked. He was tired, cold, and bored as all hell. And just what did that mean anyhow? Bored as all hell. Hell was anything but boring; he could attest to that. Cas brought him out of his thoughts by draping his trench coat over him. “Don’t you need this?”

“I’m not experiencing the cold.”

Dean wasn’t sure if angels really didn’t get cold or if his friend was just being nice, but at this point he wasn’t going to argue the gesture. “Thanks.” He didn’t even object when the angel pulled him close to his side and kept an arm around him. Maybe he wouldn’t end this job with pneumonia after all. A few minutes passed in silence and then Dean spoke again, making sure to keep his voice very low. “Hey Cas, do you miss your life? You know, the way it was before you brought me back here?” Dean was well aware that his friend had given up all he’d known when he’d accompanied the hunter to the past.

“Which life, Dean?”

“You know… being an angel. A regular one. Not living in a normal house hiding from Heaven, babysitting Sammy, and hanging out in my dreams every night.”

“I haven’t been what would be considered a normal angel since I pulled you from Hell. I began to doubt. And then I rebelled against my brothers and sisters. After we averted the apocalypse, I was caught up in the civil war in Heaven and we all know how that turned out.” Dean shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold. “Afterwards, I had lost myself one way or another for a long time, then spent over a year in Purgatory. Things were far from normal or ideal when I got out.”

“So, I guess I screwed up your existence long before now, huh?”

“No, Dean. What I am trying to say is that right now I may not be able to return to Heaven or act as a normal angel would, and I do miss my brothers and sisters, but I have you and your family and a purpose and this is probably the most at peace I have ever been in my entire existence.”

“Oh.” Dean didn’t know what to say to that. Any response seemed inadequate. But he was saved from having to try and figure it out when something caught his eye. “Cas, did you see that?”

“Yes. It looked human-like, but I believe it was most likely the werewolf we’ve been waiting for.” 

“Awesome.” Dean whispered. “Let’s get this done.”

Dean took the small mirror out of his pocket and tilted it up to catch the moonlight. He angled it so that his dad could see the flashes of light and then sent his message. 

_Its here_

_Where_

_Your ten_

_See it_

_Plan beta_

_Commencing_

Dean nodded to Cas. “Plan B will work best. C’mon.”

Keeping low to the ground (not hard to do with his size) Dean moved into position. The werewolf would be out of the park within seconds without a reason to stay, so Cas was going to be bait. Since he was the only one who could teleport at will, he was the best choice for the job. The rest of them were going to take their posts and gank the beast. They had specifically set up their spots to cover all angles and to avoid anyone hitting each other with friendly fire. Dean dove into the shrubs and stuck the barrel of his gun out to take aim. He was ready. But part of him was kind of hoping that someone else would get the shot before he did. 

When he was a kid, he had loved the idea of werewolf hunts. They were classic horror movie monsters and even though they didn’t really resemble the Hollywood image, it was still exciting. But then he’d grown up and discovered that those poor guys didn’t even know that they were freaks. Oh, sure there were those alpha-like ones that he’d encountered that were aware of their other lives, but for the most part, werewolves were just victims themselves, not conscious of the death and destruction that they brought to those around them. And yeah, they had to die and Dean was certain that they wouldn’t want to live if they knew and could accept the truth but he still felt a little… not thrilled about killing them. And his young age and matching emotions didn’t help the situation. But, as with everything in his life, Dean would do what had to be done.

Suddenly Cas appeared out in the middle of the clearing in the park not more than a few yards from the werewolf. He had his hands in his pockets and was trying to look as harmless as possible. The creature rushed him. Cas turned, blocking Dean’s shot. The small hunter kept his weapon ready, just in case no one else took the shot before Cas moved. The werewolf pounced and the angel vanished. A shot rang out and a bloody spot appeared on the creature just under where its heart was. One of Dean’s parents had gotten close. The monster turned its head in the direction of his dad’s hiding spot and charged. Dean stood up from his spot to get a better shot and fired at the inhuman man who was dressed in a blue jogging suit. His shot hit perfectly and if his airgun packed the kind of punch that a regular gun did, the fight would be over. But as it was, his silver bb penetrated the flesh and muscles of the creature’s back but not far enough to reach the heart. The werewolf ignored that hit, intent on killing the person who’d shot him first. 

“Damn it.” Dean growled out. He knew better than to run out into the open after the creature. It would mean certain death and would also draw his mom out of her hiding spot. Keeping to the brush, Dean ran around to try and get to his father.

He was approaching his dad’s hiding spot when he saw that his father was trying desperately to un-jam his handgun. That explained why there was no second shot. Dean was almost in position but he knew that he’d never make it before the werewolf did. 

The Cas appeared next to Dean’s dad and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. They both disappeared. Dean grinned as the werewolf looked around in an almost comically confused way. Dean raised his weapon, finally having a decent shot. He heard his mom coming towards him, her light footfalls in the brush giving her away, but he didn’t have the time to await her arrival. The beast that looked almost human had turned towards him and snarled at him, baring sharp yellowed teeth. It raised clawed hands and leapt. The young hunter fired twice, succeeding in double tapping the heart. It was as good as dead as its bulk hit the small boy. 

Dean was knocked to the ground with the large man on top of him. The man made a small growl-ish noise followed by a very human sounding groan. The boy remembered Glen, panicked and begging for help as he died, unaware that he had killed so many innocent people as a werewolf and he knew that he had to get out from under this guy and get away. He couldn’t go through that right now. His heart was pounding in his tiny chest and felt sick to his stomach. Then the weight was gone and he was looking up at his mother.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Dean practically jumped up off the cold, hard ground and hurried off. Once he was far enough away that he was certain he wouldn’t hear any final desperate pleas from the man he’d shot, the boy stopped and took a deep breath. 

“You okay, son? You went down pretty hard.”

Dean turned and looked up at his dad. “Yeah. Guy weighed a ton, but didn’t do me any damage.”

“Can’t believe I missed the shot.” Hid dad shook his head in frustration.

“You almost got it. And you were at a weird angle, so I call it a pretty sweet try.” Dean praised. “But what was up with that follow through? Jammed gun? Seriously? Where’d you pick up that piece of crap?”

“Pawn shop.”

“Rule of hunting: If you get a second hand gun, make sure it still works good. Bobby’s gonna have your ass when he hears about this.”

His dad grinned. “Then we better start thinking up a good cover story, huh?”

Dean put on his most innocent expression. “ _What?_ And _lie_? But that would be wrong!”

Just then, his mom and Cas joined them. The angel looked at Dean with concern.

“Are you…”

“Word of warning; if you ask me if I’m okay, I swear I’m gonna shoot you.”

“No you won’t.”

“No.” Dean admitted. “But I’ll kick you in the shins. Anyway, is everything taken care of?”

His mom nodded. “The police will be able to connect him with the local murders but there’s no evidence to link us to him.”

“Good.” His dad replied. 

“’kay, so let’s go pick up Sammy, go home, crawl into bed, and sleep for the next ten to twelve hours.”

“Sounds like a wonderful idea.” Dean’s mom agreed.

Cas stepped over to them and was about to transport them all back to Bobby’s house when a voice stopped them.

“Hey! Are you kidding me? That was my hunt!”

Everyone in the group turned their heads as one to see a young man walking towards them. He was wearing jeans, a dark grey winter coat, and a black knit ski cap. He was holding a rifle, but not in a threatening way, and his expression was friendly. At least it was until he caught sight of Dean.

“What the hell? Are you people nuts? You brought your kid on a werewolf hunt? What? There weren’t any gangland shoot-outs in the area to take him to? Not enough dark alleys for him to stroll down?”

Dean snickered. He had no clue as to who this man was, but he kind of liked him already. But it seemed that his father wasn’t as amused as he was.

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but mind your own damned business.”

Dean’s mom tried to be the voice of reason. “Please everyone, calm down. Let’s just talk this over, okay? Obviously, we’re all hunters, right?” At the man’s nod, she continued. “Good. I’m Mary, this is my brother Cas, my husband John, and our son, Dean. I understand your shock at seeing a small child out here, but trust me that there is a very good reason. And as you can see, he’s not defenseless.”

“Oh, so arming the toddler with a gun makes him safer.”

“Not a toddler, dude. And since I’m the one that ganked the werewolf, yeah, giving me the gun was an awesome idea. I also noticed that you neglected to give us your name.”

The man stared at Dean for a moment, obviously unsure what to make of him. But then he spoke. “Of course, how impolite of me. The name’s Bill Harvelle.”


	35. Bill Harvelle

Chapter Thirty-Five: Bill Harvelle 

_Bill Harvelle. Bill Harvelle. Bill Harvelle._ The name kept playing over and over in Dean’s mind as he stared wide-eyed at the man standing in front of them. The man who was Ellen Harvelle’s husband and Jo Harvelle’s father. The man that Dean had never met because his dad had gotten the guy killed long before he’d ever met the family. And here he was, standing before them, eyeing the family somewhat suspiciously while Dean’s father was still glaring at him hostilely. 

“Well, Mr. Harvelle, nice to meet you. Now take your judgmental ass and get gone.” His dad turned to leave the park since there was no way that they were taking the angel taxi out of here in front of another hunter.

“Dad, wait!” Dean called out. “It’s cool. He’s cool.” Dean caught himself at the last moment. He didn’t want to say too much, as a five year old shouldn’t know this much about other hunters, but he was hoping that his dad would get the message. He shot Cas a pleading look.

“He can be trusted.” Cas confirmed.

Now Bill was looking between Dean and Cas. The boy had hoped that the hunter wouldn’t realize that Dean had spoken up to his defense first and that the angel’s words would get all of the attention but it appeared that this guy wasn’t going to be easily thrown off.

“So, you two have heard of me?”

“Yes.” Cas replied simply. 

“Uh, Cas has. And, you know, I heard from him.”

“Right.” Bill nodded. “And what have you heard?”

“That you’re a great hunter but a sarcastic pain in the ass.” Dean answered.

“Dean!” His mom scolded.

Bill laughed. “You guys better teach your boy some manners. And keep him away from other hunters. And from hunts.” The last part was said pointedly.

“Did I mention something about minding your own business? Because your continued health may depend on it.” Dean’s dad shot back.

“Dad, just tell ‘im.” Dean tilted his head to the side in their signal to use their cover story. Most hunters wouldn’t get any reasons for Dean being in the field. Trusted ones would get their cover story. No one but Bobby would get the truth for the moment. Dean figured that maybe the Harvelles could know the full story in the future at some point, but for now it was just safer for all involved if no one knew about Dean.

“Dean…”

“Demons are after me.” Dean blurted out.

His mom sighed. “It’s true. We can’t tell you everything for our son’s safety, but Dean knows some secrets about the demons and has even helped to kill a very powerful one. They’re now hunting him and the safest place for him is by our side.”

“So yeah, a werewolf hunt is a lot safer for him than being left behind.” Dean’s dad finished, placing a protective hand on his son’s shoulder. “And learning to defend himself from creatures will help to keep him alive as well.”

Bill looked between them, as if trying to weigh the truthfulness of what was being said. Dean wasn’t sure if it was because there was a bit of truth in their explanation or if they were just that good at lying but finally the other hunter nodded.

“I guess that makes sense. But I have to say that I’m going to do my damned best to keep my son out of all this craziness until he’s a bit older than your kid.”

“Son?” Dean asked, quite confused.

“Yeah. My wife’s pregnant.”

“It’s going to be a boy?” Dean’s mom questioned.

“First born Harvelles are always boys.”

Dean tried not to smirk. “Good luck with that.”

“You guys should stop by the Roadhouse some time. That’s a bar my wife and I own. Lots of hunters come through there. We exchange stories, jobs, information.”

“Sounds great.” Dean replied.

“We’ll think about it.” His dad spoke over his comment.

Dean rolled his eyes. Everyone besides Bill knew that they would be going. His dad just had to put on the whole alpha-hunter show. But that probably was a good thing since the five year old shouldn’t be seen as their team leader anyhow. Which brought a question to Dean’s mind. Who really was their team leader? He certainly had the most experience and he wasn’t actually a kid, but could his parents really be expected to take orders from him? A problem for a different time.

“Well then, family that neglected to mention their last name, I’ll be seeing you around.” Bill shook the other man’s hand and at the same time slipped him a piece of paper that most likely had the Roadhouse’s address on it. Not that Dean needed it. 

The Winchesters watched Bill Harvelle walk off. Dean couldn’t believe he’d just met the man. That was something he had to confess that he hadn’t thought about. Sure he’d anticipated meeting Bobby. And he was looking forwards to when the time was right to meet Pastor Jim, Caleb, and even Ellen, but he hadn’t ever thought about the guy that had gotten killed before Dean had ever known that he’d even existed. 

Once they were sure that Bill was no longer able to see them, Cas teleported them to Bobby’s house. After picking up Sammy, they headed home and got to bed, with Dean promising to fill them in on the Harvelles the next day. 

And that moment came a bit too soon for the young hunter. Especially since his dad had decided to bring the topic up at the dinner table. It had been a work day for the eldest Winchester and he was exhausted after only getting two and a half hours of sleep. Dean really wished that he’d picked a different moment for this discussion.

“So, Bill Harvelle… who is he, Dean?”

“A hunter.”

“Yeah, I got that part. But how do you know him?”

“I don’t really. I never met the guy.”

“But you vouched for him. Which, by the way, was rather stupid of you to do in front of him. What the hell were you thinking? You want to give yourself away? Why don’t you just announce your story to the entire hunter community?”

“Right, because he’s going to immediately suspect that an angel brought me back into my childhood body from an alternate future just because I said that he’s cool. That makes perfect sense.” Okay, maybe Dean didn’t sleep too well either.

“Dean…”

“Look, I knew his wife and his daughter. Went to the Roadhouse. They helped me and Sam out a few times.”

“And Bill?”

“Dead.”

His dad snorted. “That’s helpful. And I’m just supposed to what, just accept that because you liked his family and their bar that the dead guy is a good hunter and can be trusted?” 

“Well, you know what Dad, maybe if you hadn’t gotten him killed then I would’ve met him and I’d be able to tell you a bit more about him.” Dean knew that he was being unfair, but his dad had pushed him. 

“So now this is my fault?”

“Hey, if the boot fits...”

“Okay, both of you calm down.” His mom cut in.

“He’s the one accusing me of killing a man we just met!”

“And you’re the one who provoked him.” She shot back. “Now Dean, from the beginning, nice and calm and slow, tell us what you can.”

Dean took a deep breath to try and calm himself. “Fine. After Dad died, Sammy and I found out about the Roadhouse. We met Ellen and her daughter Jo. They gave us a job and later on, Jo accompanied us on a hunt against her mom’s wishes. After I almost got her killed, Ellen told Jo that Dad was the one that got Bill killed by using him as bait on a hunt when Jo was just a little girl. Anyway, the bar got destroyed later that year but they continued hunting, separately, then together until I got them both killed. Like father, like son I guess. And that’s all there is to tell. May I be excused?” Dean didn’t wait for a response as he climbed down off his chair and left the table, his plate still mostly full. He just didn’t feel hungry anymore.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

John watched as Dean practically ran from the room. He didn’t know what to think. What was a person supposed to think when he was just told that if things had turned out differently he would’ve used a man (a husband and a young girl’s father) as bait and would’ve gotten him killed? The man that had so annoyed him just that morning would’ve ended up dead, his blood on John’s hands if Dean hadn’t come back in time to change things. Which brought up the same old question: should he feel guilty for something he had never done? Maybe, maybe not. But he knew that he should feel bad for how he’d spoken to his son. 

Sure he hadn’t slept much the night before and work had not gone well and he felt like hell, but none of that was Dean’s fault. He’d had a choice of taking either today off from work or his son’s birthday and he didn’t regret not picking this day. But after getting back so late and having to get up so early, the day had not been an easy one. So of course he’d gone and taken it out on his emotionally vulnerable son. It seemed like he wasn’t going to win the father of the year award in any timeline. But he was a good enough parent to know that he was not in the frame of mind to go after his son right now. No, that would just make things worse.

“Mary, Castiel… would one of you go check on Dean please.” He knew that his emotions made his voice sound gruff and far less polite than his words but that at least his wife would appreciate the effort he was putting in. After all, just a few months ago, an encounter like this would’ve ended with him storming out the front door and possibly not coming home until the next day. But faced with the idea that he could’ve lost his family, John refused to treat those he loved like that ever again. No, he had to try to keep his temper under control. Especially since he knew from his son the kind of man that he could become. John would never become that man. He’d promised Dean. 

Sammy chose that moment to begin crying. John sighed. Now all the Winchester guys were upset. And it was probably his fault. Little Sammy was very close to his older brother. John was certain that it had to do with the fact that Dean was so connected with him and spent so much time with the baby. And now it seemed that Sammy was in tune with the older boy’s moods. Just wonderful. 

Mary picked up Sammy and began making little shushing noises. The baby shook his head and cried harder.

“I’m going to go and take him upstairs. Maybe he and Dean can cheer each other up. And don’t worry; I’ll get things straightened out with our wayward son. You get yourself calmed down.” With a kiss to the top of his head, she was gone.

John closed his eyes and tried to make sense of all of the information and emotions that were drowning his brain. When he reopened them, nothing felt any better. And he realized that Castiel was watching him. 

“What?” He snapped.

“You should not feel guilt. Bill Harvelle is not dead in this timeline. And in the other, it is my belief that you did not intend for him to die when you planned out the hunt. I too have survived when those fighting by my side have not. It is not easy but guilt and blame accomplish nothing.”

“You know that makes perfect sense in theory. But are you telling me that you’ve never felt bad when you get someone killed?”

“No. I cannot say that.”

“So angels are hypocrites just like humans are?”

“Yes.”

John chuckled. “Good to know. But that’s not the biggest issue of the night. I can’t seem to hold my temper in. I just screamed at Dean for no reason.”

“He’s used to it.”

John blinked. “What… you saying I did this a lot to him?”

“I believe you yourself know the answer to this question. You are trying to avoid going down a certain path, and I am pleased to see it, but that was not the case before.”

“What did I put that kid through?”

“Dean would not wish for me to tell you. And I cannot betray him like that. But you’re a clever man. What answers you can’t guess, I’m sure you will find a way to get them from Dean eventually. But be careful not to cause him more pain as you get them.”

John nodded, not sure how much of the other John he wanted to know about. On the other hand, how could he avoid pitfalls that he couldn’t see?

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary found her eldest son standing in the middle of his room practicing knife throwing at a corkboard hanging on his wall. And if that wasn’t one of the most unnerving sights; a five year old handling small, sharp blades. Who was she kidding? Last night she’d taken him out to hunt a werewolf and handed him a gun. But still…

“Typically, when a kid storms off to their room and slams the door, it’s a clear signal that they wanna be left alone.” Dean informed her. Despite his words, he threw the last knife and walked over to her. 

Sammy stopped crying and squirmed to be put down. Mary placed the baby on the floor after making sure that none of the blades had fallen. The baby crawled over to his big brother. Dean dropped down onto the floor next to the littlest Winchester and forced a smile to his face.

“So, you want to talk about it?”

“If I wanted to talk about it, I’d be downstairs, at the table, talking about it.”

“Dean…”

“Mom…”

“You can’t keep everything locked up inside.”

“Always worked in the past.” The boy shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“Did it?”

“They died over three years ago. I’ve moved on. Doesn’t matter anyways since it sure as all hell ain’t gonna happen again. All three Harvelles are gonna live long, happy, healthy lives.”

“Dean, did you ever stop to consider that you may be taking far too much onto those tiny, little shoulders.”

“They’re a lot stronger than they look, Mom.”

“You may be strong, Dean, but you don’t have to be strong all the time. When you want to give yourself a much needed rest from holding up the entire world, we’re here to help take the weight.”

This time, his smile was real. “I know. Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime, sweetie.” Mary turned to leave. But before she walked out the door, she had one more thing to say. “When you’re done in here, come on back downstairs and finish your dinner. And hopefully either you or your father will decide to take the first step and apologize so we can all get past this nonsense.”

With that, she left his bedroom and headed for the stairs. She had a feeling that the rest of the night would be a lot calmer. Which would be nice. Especially since tomorrow was Saturday and she knew that her son was going to start bugging them to go and visit the Roadhouse. And wasn’t that going to be an interesting experience?


	36. At the Roadhouse

Chapter Thirty-Six: At the Roadhouse 

It was going to be getting busy in just a couple of hours but for now the Roadhouse was quiet. Saturday afternoons weren’t a big draw for customers to come to an out of the way bar. Sure they sold burgers, and fries, and other diner-type foods and they catered to families taking long road trips, but the large crowds always seemed to be hunters showing up after dark for their fix of alcohol. Bill sighed as he wiped down the counter before replacing the napkin holder on its surface. Most hunters _really_ didn’t need to be drinking the levels of alcohol that they typically consumed when they stopped by. But it did make their stories more amusing. Like that guy that claimed to have beheaded a vampire with a safety-pin.

“What’s the smile for?”

Bill turned to face his wife. “Just thinking of your beauty, hon.”

“Wow… good line. But you can save them. After these past six months and knowing what’s to come in the next three, you’re never getting near me again.” 

“You know that it’ll all be worth it as soon as you see our little baby boy’s handsome face.”

Ellen gave him _that_ look. The one that told him to stop handing her the BS before she crammed it back down his throat. “First off, newborn babies are not attractive at all. They are all red and wrinkly and kind of alien-like. And second off, after she is born, then it will definitely be worth it, because I’ll be taking the following nine months off and you can do all the work.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

“I have you so well trained.” Ellen leaned over the bar for a kiss. It was difficult since her belly was beginning to really start to swell, but still manageable. When they broke off the lip-lock, she sat up on one of the stools. “I finished inventory. We’re well-stocked. The only thing I think we’ll need in the coming weeks is maybe some sodas. We got all the colas you could want but we’re a bit light on root beer and diet drinks.”

“Diet drinks… ick.” Bill pulled a face.

“Well, not everyone is a poster child for fitness, Mr. Muscles.” Ellen teased.

“Are you coming on to me right after you rejected my advances?”

“Dream on.”

Bill laughed as he looked around their bar. It was all set for the evening. He loved this place and their life here together. Their days were spent just hanging out together and taking care of the occasional customer that stopped by. At night they ran the bar together and listened to hunters’ stories and traded their own. They also picked up extra cash selling information and hunting supplies. Bill would take a hunt every once in a while and before the pregnancy, Ellen would join him. Things were damned near perfect. Just then, the front door swung open. 

Bill looked over and felt his eyes widen a bit when he saw the group of people walking inside.

“It’s them.” The hunter whispered to his wife. “That’s the family I met on the werewolf hunt.” Then he raised his voice in greeting. “Hi, guys! So glad you could all make it!”

The woman, Mary, smiled at him. “Glad to be here. We don’t know many other hunters and couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this.”

That’s when Bill noticed that the woman was holding a sleeping baby in her arms. He appeared to be somewhere around nine months old or so. The baby was wrapped up in blankets and had a tan and green hat on his head. Mary was rocking him gently and seemingly without even realizing that she was doing so. Her blonde hair was loose, unlike when she was hunting, which gave her a softer appearance. Or maybe that was just the baby in her arms. Bill wondered how Ellen would look in a few months when she’d be holding their own baby.

John was looking just as pissy as ever, dressed in an old pair of jeans and a worn, dark jacket. He clearly didn’t want to be there, which begged the question of why they were there. Maybe his wife was the one really in charge? But no, she seemed more like a peacemaker than a lawmaker. The quiet fellow in the trench coat, Cas, certainly wasn’t their leader. He was an odd one; Bill could tell just by the way the man carried himself. So, maybe they were here because of the kid. That drew his eyes to the final, and arguably strangest, member of the family. Dean. 

The boy, who couldn’t be any older than four or five years old, pulled off his hat revealing short, spiky blonde hair but that wasn’t what grabbed Bill’s attention. The kid was gazing around the bar with a look of a person that was coming back to a well-known, well-loved place. He seemed perfectly at home here. The boy shed his coat and tossed it on the coat rack with practiced eased. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt with a picture of shark teeth and text that warned that the wearer of the shirt might bite under an unbuttoned black and brown plaid flannel. He had an unusual charm hanging around his neck.

“Well, there’s some hunters that I’m certain you’ll regret meeting, but you’re more than welcome here.” Ellen responded to Mary. 

Mary smiled as the other woman approached her. “Oh, your husband said you were pregnant. When are you due?”

“May 4th. But I’m certain she’ll be early. I’m betting on the last week of April. Do you want me to hold him so you can take your coat off?”

Mary only hesitated a fraction of a moment before handing the baby to Ellen. “She? Bill said it was definitely a boy.”

“’All first born Harvelles are boys’. Yes, I’ve heard it a million times before. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s a girl.” Ellen smiled at the sleeping baby in her arms. Bill smiled at the sight.

“Well, Joseph is a pretty funny name for a girl.” Bill commented.

“But Joanna is a perfect name for a girl.” Ellen replied. 

“You know,” Mary interrupted them. “Woman’s intuition is almost always right in these cases. I knew almost immediately that Dean was going to be a boy.”

“But you _did_ keep insisting that Sam was going to be a girl.” John pointed out.

Mary seemed embarrassed. “Call it wishful thinking. I had a boy and everyone was saying that two would be a handful and that I needed a little girl. They had me confused.”

“Likely story.” John rolled his eyes and Mary playfully punched his arm.

Ellen handed the baby, Sam, back to Mary after the woman’s coat was hung up. John and Cas kept their coats on.

“Well, when do the introductions start?” Ellen asked.

“Sorry, hon.” Bill apologized. “This is John and his wife Mary. The boys are their sons Dean and Sam. And this is Mary’s brother, Cas. I met all but Sam on that werewolf hunt I told you about. And guys, this is my lovely wife, Ellen.”

“Do you have a last name?” Ellen asked. 

“Winchester. Like the rifle.” Dean responded, hopping up on a barstool. 

“Dean.” His father scolded.

“What? It’s not like they could google us or nothing.”

The blank stares his family gave him indicated that his comment made no more sense to them than it did to Bill. One thing was for certain, though. This kid had attitude to spare. 

“Well, Winchester family, welcome to the Roadhouse.” Ellen broke the awkward silence that had followed the boy’s strange comment. “It doesn’t look like much, but it really is a great place.”

“How long you all been hunting?” Bill asked curiously.

“My whole life.” Dean answered.

“That long, huh?” Bill sat next to him. He noticed that the boy kept staring at Ellen with a sad, distant look in his eyes. It was completely out of place on a child so young.

“Yep.”

“I hunted when I was growing up.” Mary cut in. “My family was into it. I doubt you’ve heard of them, though. They kept to themselves. But I got out of it when John and I married. But, as we said last time, things happened that drew us back in.”

“Yeah, about that…”

John shook his head. “No details. It could put Dean in even more danger.”

“It could also put you in danger.” Dean added. He started spinning the barstool around in circles. Bill shook his head in amusement. 

“Hey!” Ellen called out. “Careful! You’ll fall and crack your head open!”

Dean shrugged. “Got a thick skull and nothin’ to damage in there.”

Mary groaned. “Dean…”

The boy put out a hand and grabbed onto the bar, bringing the stool to a stop. He favored his mom with a smile and then turned it on Ellen. But as he stared at Bill’s wife, the smile turned sad. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I just didn’t want you getting hurt.”

“Wasn’t talking about that.”

“What then?”

“Nothing. But I… I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry.” And damn it all if there weren’t tears running down the child’s face. The boy had gone from goofing off and being a smart-mouth to crying over God-knows-what in two seconds flat. Bill found himself worrying about the little guy.

Mary walked over to her son and hugged him. She whispered something in his ear and the boy nodded his head. She shook her head in return and whispered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not your fault’. Dean pulled away from her and hopped off the stool.

“Doesn’t matter ‘cause I’m not gonna screw it all up again!” The boy swiped at his face and was obviously trying desperately to regain some semblance of control over his emotions. And, unlike most children that age, he accomplished just that in a matter of moments. 

Bill decided to give the kid a break and draw the attention away from him. “So, anyone want a drink?”

“I’d love a beer.” John responded.

“I’ll take one as well.” Mary requested. 

“Nothing for me, thank you.” Cas answered.

“Root beer, please.” Dean threw him a grateful smile as he reclaimed his seat, obviously aware that the man had changed the subject for the child’s benefit.

“So,” John began. “Not many hunters here.”

“Still a bit early.” Bill informed him as he slid a cold bottle of imported beer down the bar. John let the first slide past him and Mary grabbed it. John snatched up the second. Bill pulled out an ice cold root beer soda in a glass bottle and slid it to Dean. He usually used cans for the small kids but figured that this boy would appreciate a drink that looked more like everyone else’s. After all, any child that went out and hunted with adults should get to ‘drink’ with them as well. “The crowd should start trickling in any time now. Got our regulars that live in the area, and then those that drift.”

“Anyone good?”

Bill laughed. “Well, no one that could bag a werewolf at the age of four or five, but most are pretty decent. Some are slightly off their rockers, though, so watch your backsides.”

“And keep yourselves in line, too.” Ellen warned. “We have a strict ‘no shooting the other customers’ policy.”

“What if they really deserve it?” Dean asked.

“Well, I _have_ been known to make exceptions.” She replied with a wink. 

The boy’s answering grin was actually a bit disconcerting. He popped the top off the bottle using the bar top and took a swing of the soda. Bill got a feeling that this was not the first time that Dean had ever been in a bar. He was getting more and more curious as to the details about this kid and his family. There was more to the story than a demon attack.

“You know,” Dean’s voice broke though his thoughts. “You guys should add a bit of holy water to all of your non-bottled drinks. Maybe in the ice too so that if customers pour bottled drinks into a glass they’ll get it too. Just a little precaution.”

“Not a bad idea.” Bill commented. “Never thought much about protection against demons before. Only ever had one possessed customer.”

“Trust me. Demons can screw up everything. I can show you how to protect yourselves from them if you want.”

“And what’ll it cost me?” Bill asked. He was very used to the barter system.

“Nothing. But not knowing this stuff can cost you everything.” Suddenly Dean didn’t sound anywhere close to five years old. “You have a great place here. And a great family. You gotta keep them safe.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed, glancing lovingly at his pregnant wife. “Yeah, I do.”

Just then the door swung open again. Bill looked up as the entire Winchester family swiveled around to get a look at the new arrival. The young man that ran through the door was no stranger to Bill. He’d started stopping by about a year and a half ago and had an anger about him that quite frankly scared the hunter. Sure, the guy had suffered a personal tragedy (most hunters had) but he had allowed it to make him become slightly unhinged and he was consistently seeking revenge at any cost. Bill had discovered long ago that there were two types of hunters. Those who sought to save others and kill monsters and those who sought revenge. The first type were more noble and while they had their quirks and flaws, were trustworthy. The second type often ended up in a downward spiral that dragged down all who got to close to the hunter in question. And Gordon Walker, the young hunter who’d just run into the Roadhouse, was definitely in the second category.

But it wasn’t just the young man that had captured Bill’s attention. From, the corner of his eye, the hunter saw Dean’s reaction to Gordon’s entrance. The boy hadn’t turned his stool completely and Bill could still see the left side of his face. Dean’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed as his lips thinned into an angry snarl. His small hand curled into a fist and his whole body tensed as if ready to spring. Bill glanced at the boy’s parents and uncle, but none of them reacted with anything other than curiosity. He had no time to wonder about what was going on in Dean’s head, though, as Gordon chose that moment to speak up.

“You might wanna call off happy hour tonight, Billy. Vamps are after me in a big way, and if they follow me here, I doubt it’s going to be a very happy night for anyone.”


	37. Among Friends and Enemies

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Among Friends and Enemies

Dean found himself staring, first in shock and then in barely concealed anger, at a young Gordon Walker as the man ran into the Roadhouse. Memories of this man, and all the pain he’d brought down on Sammy, slammed into the young hunter’s mind with such force that he was certain he’d be thrown from the stool that he was perched on. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might run into any familiar faces besides Ellen when he’d talked his parents into bringing him here. And meeting up with this asshole sure as hell hadn’t been on his wish list. But here they were and Dean knew that he was going to have to somehow control his temper. That last thought went clear out the window when the man opened his big, fat, good-for-nothing craphole of a mouth.

“You might wanna call off happy hour tonight, Billy. Vamps are after me in a big way, and if they follow me here, I doubt it’s going to be a very happy night for anyone.”

The anger Dean was feeling turned into pure, white-hot rage. This idiot had just apparently led a group of vampires into a bar run by a young couple that was expecting a baby. And Gordon didn’t even seem to care that Ellen was pregnant and about to have to fight off bloodsuckers. Dean was about to hand Walker his ass, when Bill did the job for him.

“Are you nuts, Gordon? Wait don’t answer that; I’ve known for a while that you’re straight jacket material, but this is going too far. You’ve brought this down on my family and you were just in here a month ago, so you know that Ellen’s not in fighting condition. You’re an ass, Walker. A complete ass, and I have half a mind to tie you up outside the front door and hope that when they drain every last drop of your blood that they leave me and mine alone.” Dean grinned evilly as Gordon paled a bit and gaped like a fish out of water. “But seeing your drained corpse might just be bad for business. So you man the door and let any hunters in, turn the civies away, and let us know when the hell you’ve brought us shows, got it?” 

Gordon made a face. “I’m the expert here, Billy, and…”

“You aren’t an expert in anything but causing trouble. You may be an okay vamp killer, but I’ve got more experience than you. Besides, this is my bar and I call the shots here. You got a problem with that, we can always go back to the whole ‘tie you up’ plan.” Bill turned back to Dean and his family. “You guys want to take off? We can use the help, but I’d understand if you want to get gone. Family comes first.”

“Give us a moment.” Dean’s dad requested. 

Bill nodded and walked off to the other end of the room with his arm around Ellen’s shoulders. They could hear the couple arguing in loud, angry whispers but ignored the words. They had enough to discuss themselves. 

“What happens now?” His mom asked.

“I say we leave.” His dad replied. Dean went to protest, but the oldest Winchester held up a hand. “This probably happened the first time around too, and we weren’t here to help then either. And, by your own account, the whole family lived long past this date.”

“But we are here now, Dad.” Dean protested. “And something just doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?” His mother questioned.

“I don’t know?” Dean replied. “It’s just… I know Gordon. He’s a world class bastard. Tried to kill Sammy more than once. I should kill him right now just on principle. But the fact is that it just seems weird that he’d show up now, on our first trip to the Roadhouse, and bring trouble down on us all too. It just… seems… off.”

“You’re right.” Cas spoke up. Dean turned to look at him the angel was sitting perfectly still, his eyes shut tightly. “This was not the path that the original timeline took.”

“Gordon didn’t get chased by here by vamps?” Dean asked.

“No. He angered the nest and they chased him. He was headed in this direction on foot but encountered a truck full of hunters on their way here as well. They came to his rescue. Two died in the encounter but the vampires were defeated and never made it this far.”

“Why didn’t the hunters help Gordon this time?” His father wanted to know. “Us being here couldn’t have changed that.

“They are dead.”

“How?” His mom gasped. 

“I don’t know. But we can investigate when we are done here.”

“When we’re done here?” His dad raised an eyebrow.

“We have to stay, Dad. I can’t shake the feeling that this is all connected to me. Why else would something have changed? It’s my fault that the Harvelles are in danger right now and I can’t get Ellen and Jo killed again, not if I can stop it.”

“Okay,” His dad relented. “But we’re going to be smart about this, got it?” Dean nodded. “And we’re sticking to our cover story. Especially with psycho Walker here. After what you’ve said about what he’s capable of, I don’t want him knowing anything about us. And if a vampire happens to chow down on him, nobody needs to run to the rescue, okay?”

“Understood.” Dean agreed, with a smirk. 

Dean watched as his father walked over to Bill. “We’re staying. But we need a safe place for Sammy to stay. I take it there’s somewhere that your wife is going to be waiting out the attack.”

“Yeah.” Bill nodded. “We have a reinforced safe room in the back. No windows. One door. A trapdoor to escape if it comes to that. Ellen’s got a tranq gun with a few shots of dead man’s blood but it won’t last long so it’ll be our job to keep the vamps from finding them. Dean can stay back there too.”

“No way in hell I’m hiding in some room while you guys fight for your lives. I’m in this too.”

Bill gave him a skeptical look. “You think you can decapitate a vampire.”

“I can sure try. And even if I don’t got the strength to take the head off in one clean strike, I can incapacitate ‘em long enough for you guys to finish the job. Besides, they’ll take one look at me and underestimate me just like you’re doing.”

“He’s got a point.” Dean’s dad placed a hand on the smallest hunter’s shoulder in a show of support.

Gordon Walker had turned from his post at the door to look at them. “And you call me crazy, Billy?”

“Shut it, Walker. I’ve known this family for a blink of an eye and I already like them a hell of a lot more than I like you. Besides, the way I hear it, the kid’s a better hunter than you’ll ever be. Now turn your attention back to that damned door!” Bill practically snarled that last part and Dean found his respect for the man growing by leaps and bounds. “Okay John, you got any weapons in your car?”

“Uh, we don’t have our car here. We took a taxi. Didn’t want to drive if I had too many to drink.”

Yeah. Took an angel taxi service.

“Crap. Well, I’ll have to get out my blade collection then.” Bill checked behind the bar and pulled out a machete and a small sword. Dean had already noticed that Gordon was holding a machete, so that meant that they were still short three weapons. The boy knew that Cas could easily get his hands on some, but that would bring up some hard to answer questions. Bill looked up towards the ceiling and then motioned to Dean. “Hey kid, you want to help me out?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Come on over here.” Dean did as he was asked and Bill placed a hand on each of his shoulders. “If you have no objections, I’m going to pick you up and get you standing on my shoulders. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall. Grab on to the rafters up there and see if you can pull yourself up. There’s a long, thin weapons locker up there. Shove it down and then jump. I’ll catch you. Think you can do that?”

Dean nodded. “No problem. But I gotta ask; why keep it somewhere that you can’t get to without a five year old kid’s help?”

“Used to have a step ladder to reach it, but it got broke last week in a bar fight. I’d move a table over and stand on it, but I’d be afraid that it’d just fall apart under my weight.”

“Yeah, they do look like crap.”

“Hey, watch it!”

Dean grinned. “You said it first. Now we gonna do this or what?” 

Bill picked him up around his waist from behind and lifted him until Dean was able to get his feet on the man’s shoulders. The boy straightened and reached up as far as he could. Dean felt the hunter’s fingers wrapped around his ankles, holding him steady as he stretched out and grabbed onto the rafters above his head.

“Got it!” He announced.

Bill let go and Dean leapt and began pulling his body up. He was reminded of climbing the monkey bars all those weeks ago to talk with Carrie Milton. Of course, that day he’d only had to deal with one skeevy perv, not a whole bunch of vamps, but hey, he’d take what he could get. Dean swung his legs up onto the wooden beam and crawled over to the box that Bill must’ve been talking about. It was long but incredibly narrow. From below, no one would ever know that it was even there. A perfect hiding place. Bill was turning out to be a pretty smart guy. When the young hunter reached the weapons locker, he called “Look out below!” and pushed it down. Dean shuffled back to where he’d climbed up and glanced down. Bill was still there. The boy wasn’t sure how he felt about trusting the man to catch him. He’d feel better if it was Cas or his dad but he figured that since he was about to go into battle alongside this hunter, he better know right now whether or not this guy was dependable. If he found himself bleeding on the ground he’d know not to trust his family’s lives in Bill Harvelle’s hands. So, with that not so cheery thought in mind, Dean took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jumped down from the beam. He felt himself drop and then two arms wrapped around him and gently stopped his fall. The boy opened his eyes and came face to face with the older hunter.

“Didn’t think I’d let you hit the ground, did you?”

“Didn’t know what to think.” Dean did the best he could to shrug while being held by the man. “Just met you, after all.”

“But you jumped.” Bill pointed out.

“And now I know that you wouldn’t let me hit the ground.” 

“You’re a strange kid.” 

“So, it’s been said.” 

Bill put Dean down. “Well, thanks for the help.”

“Not a problem. But you might want to get a step ladder soon. It might be a while before Jo is old enough to do that for you.”

“Joe? Nicknaming my kid already?” 

Dean just shrugged in response, then changed the subject. “So what’s in the box?”

Bill led the boy and his family over to the object and then knelt down. Dean’s mom had already handed Sammy off to Ellen who was standing ready to escape to the safe room at a moment’s notice. The hunter pulled a key ring from his pocket and selected a tarnished silver key. Dean inspected the weapons locker, but couldn’t see a keyhole. He was about to point out this fact but then Bill pressed down on one of the wooden panels and a portion of it slid away to reveal a keyhole. Dean was impressed. Bill unlocked the box and opened it. 

Dean felt his eyes widen as he looked at all the weapons stored away in the trunk. There were no guns besides an old pistol, those were probably kept behind the bar, but there was an array of antique and very valuable-looking blades of all shapes and sizes, a bow and arrows set, a mace, Chinese throwing stars, and some weapons that looked suspiciously like stuff you might see in ninja movies. It was one hell of a collection.

“Where’d you get this stuff?” Dean asked.

“Lots of hunters come through here. They pick up all kinds of stuff and sometimes they don’t have cash to pay their tabs. I’m a bit of a collector. And you never know when a katana blade may come in handy.”

Dean grinned. “Words to live by, man.” He carefully looked over the blades before selecting the shortest and lightest one there. He’d be able to swing that one the easiest. He still doubted that he’d have the strength to take off a vampire’s head in a single blow, but it would have to do. Then he continued to look through the collection. Seeing what he was looking for, Dean slid the blade through his belt so that it was resting alongside his leg. Then he carefully crouched down to pick up a soft leather case that folded out to reveal a set of a dozen small, beautifully embossed silver throwing knives. The craftsmanship was out of this world, and as he took one out and held it in his hand, Dean could tell that the balance was perfect. He put it back with the others and slid the case in the back of his jeans. He was set. 

Dean turned to see his dad holding the machete, his mom the small sword, Bill had the aforementioned katana blade, and Cas was holding a really badass looking sword. Dean had to admit that the angel looked super cool holding a weapon like that. 

“If we’re all set?” At everyone’s nod, Bill closed up his weapons locker and moved it behind the bar. “Okay, Ellen and Sammy will be in the back where it’s safe. Dean, I saw you take the throwing knives. You any good with them?”

“Yep.”

“Great. I want you back here up on the bar top. Aim for eyes, knees, anything that’ll slow them down. Once they get close to you, you can put that larger blade to use. I need one of you to stay with Dean.” Dean was impressed that Bill, while remaining in authority in his own bar, was smart enough to leave the battle over custody of Dean to the Winchesters. 

“That’ll be me.” Cas volunteered.

“Great.” Bill nodded. “John, I hate to do this to you because you seem like a great guy, but I need to pair you with Gordon. I can’t do it because I need to remain in here away from the door and I don’t trust him around your wife. You get behind the door and leave him to watch it. Help him take out the vamps as they enter. When they start to come in too quickly, fall back. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Dean was pleased that his dad was taking Bill’s orders without question. But the other man had more experience and they were on his territory, so it made sense. The boy wasn’t so sure that he liked the idea of his dad working with the douche-bag that had tried to kill Sammy, but what other choice was there? 

“Mary, you and I are positioned at the halfway point between the front door and Dean; I’m left, you’re right. When John and Gordon fall back, they’ll be in-between us, so leave room. The goal is to keep the vampires from even reaching the bar. Dean and Cas are our last line of defense. Hey, Gord! You happen to know how many blood suckers are in this nest that you just poked?”

“Dozen and a half? Maybe more?”

“Yeah, he has no clue. Rushed in with little to no intel, as usual.” Bill shook his head in disgust.

“Hey, shut your mouth! I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, so you planned on bringing hell down on Bill and Ellen?” Dean shot back. “’Cause if so, I say we’re getting ready to fight the wrong monster.”

“You got some attitude, boy.”

“At least I got a brain to go with it, which is far more than I can say for you.”

“Dean,” His mom interrupted. “Now’s not the time.”

“Sure ain’t, half-pint.” Gordon agreed. “Cause we got us some fanged company.”

Dean swallowed back his response and hopped up onto the bar. The small hunter pulled out the throwing knives and opened up the set, laying them on the wooden surface within reach. Dean selected one and held it between his fingers and thumb by the blade. He remained in a crouch, ready for the attack to begin. His baby brother and Ellen were safe for the moment and everyone else had taken their positions. It was show time.


	38. One Helluva Fight

Chapter Thirty-Eight: One Helluva Fight 

The vampires were coming, but Gordon knew that the six that he saw approaching were only the first wave. The hunter signaled the amount to the others. He knew that he had been incredibly lucky to have made it to the Roadhouse. Of course, he’d been hoping for more than just Bill, his useless pregnant wife, and a family with a baby and a loudmouthed brat, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, with an expecting woman and two kids, the other adults would fight the invading monsters twice as hard. He just hoped that this ‘John’, ‘Mary’, and ‘Cas’ were decent hunters. 

John took up position on the other side of the front door and glared at him. Just what kind of bug crawled up this guy’s ass and died? 

“Anyone gets hurt here today, I’m holding you personally responsible, Walker.” The guy threatened him. 

“Whatever.” He tried to sound indifferent, but some nagging feeling was telling him that this man shouldn’t be so easily dismissed. 

Gordon left the door just a tiny sliver of a bit open and plastered his back to the wall, machete held to his chest. He schooled his breathing to something almost normal. He was ready. These disgusting creatures were going to die; every last one of them. And not just these vampires, but every last bloodsucker that he could track down. Sure there were other monsters that deserved death, and he’d put them down when he came across them, but vampires were his specialty. He’d hunt them down until his dying day. 

Gordon was well aware that some of the other hunters considered him to be obsessive, or even crazy, but he ignored them. They were idiots and cowards. Take Bill Harvelle for instance. What the hell kind of hunter got married and ran a bar? You couldn’t be a part-time hunter. And while you could partner up with others from time to time, you couldn’t slow yourself down with attachments and you couldn’t allow yourself to care about anyone but yourself. Hell, if anyone here died today, Gordon wouldn’t shed a tear. 

The first vampire slid through the open door and promptly got his head hacked off by the hunter’s machete. Gordon grinned at John, but only got another scowl in response. Yeah, this guy was an asshole.

Two vamps pushed through next, much more violently and without the caution of the first. Gordon took out one and John swung his machete, cleaving the head off the other. His eyes widened and the dark skinned hunter got the feeling that this was the other man’s first vampire kill. Perfect. A life or death situation and he was stuck with a pissy amateur. Still, Gordon was more than skilled enough for the both of them.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when more than half a dozen vampires rushed through the door. Gordon had no clue where they’d all come from. The second wave couldn’t have moved that fast, could they? He must’ve missed something. Damn. If they lived through this, Bill was going to get on his annoying high horse and chew Gordon’s ass out over this. But as a vampire pinned him to the wall and bared its sharp fangs, Gordon began to doubt that he had to worry about surviving this encounter. Just then, the vamp screamed and dropped down, clutching at its leg. The hunter looked down and saw a small knife handle protruding from the back of the creature’s knee. That had to hurt. But this would hurt even more. Gordon raised his machete and decapitated the monster. Then he turned just in time to see the small child, Dean was his name, take hold of another throwing knife and carefully aim at a vampire that was a few feet from the boy’s father. A second later the knife was embedded in the vamp’s left eye. How the hell a kid had made a shot like that from all the way across a room full of chaos Gordon didn’t know, but those skills were beyond useful. A tool like that was something that was priceless in the hunting business. Reluctantly, the hunter pulled his attention away from Dean and back to the fight. John had dropped back into position like they’d been instructed to do. Good soldier. 

But Gordon didn’t take orders from no one. He ran at one of the vamps and swung his machete. This was his fight and he was going to chop up as many of these monsters as he could. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

 

Bill didn’t even bother to yell out to Walker when the moron charged at a vampire at the front of the bar rather than falling back into position like he was supposed to do. If the guy wanted to let his rage at the creatures end his short and foolish life, well then, there was little that could be done but to make sure that no one else got taken out in the crossfire. Luckily, John was apparently good at following directions, because the man dropped back, taking up position between Mary and himself. Of course, the three of them hardly made an impenetrable wall and it was almost assured that some vamps would slip though and make it to the bar. But hopefully Cas and Dean could take care of them. And speaking of which…

Another small knife went sailing past his head and impaled an attacking vampire’s throat. It stumbled back in shock, grabbing at the wound and didn’t even realize that a katana blade was headed its way. Its head was rolling around on the ground in the blink of an eye. Bill shook his head in amazement. Damn but that kid had a good arm. 

But he had to keep his attention focused on the wave of vampires pushing into the bar. By his calculation, there were between sixteen and nineteen of them. Twice as big as most nests. He’d heard about this. Some nests were joining up for protection against crazy hunters like Gordon Walker. They’d hunt separately but live in one large group and, if provoked, they’d attack together. The idea was strength in numbers and right now it looked like it was a pretty good strategy. They were outnumbered three to one and the vampires had superior strength and speed. Luckily, the humans had the weapons and (except for Gordon) the brains.

Bill moved quickly and fluidly, decapitating vampire after vampire. He ducked under one as it tried to grab him and dropped to the floor, rolling into a crouch and then springing to his feet only to find that John had taken care of the creature for him. A nod of thanks in the other hunter’s direction, and the Bill went right back at it. He heard the sound of a bottle breaking behind him and knew that the vampires had made it past their line and to the bar. He hoped that Dean was okay and prayed that the boy and Cas could keep the monsters away from Ellen’s hiding spot. He knew that his wife could take care of herself, but she was pregnant and if anything happened…

Suddenly, he was knocked to the floor and something sharp was tearing at his neck. Bill turned his head, desperately trying to avoid having his throat ripped out. He let out a scream as the side of his neck was torn open and blood flowed out. The vampire on top of him was drinking greedily and Bill couldn’t push it off of himself. Then, a small blur hurled itself at the vamp and the monster was caught off guard. Bill was able to sit up as the weight disappeared from him. He was clutching at the bleeding wound in his neck as he looked over and saw Dean sitting on the vampire. He had his blade at the vampire’s throat and was using all his weight to press down with the weapon. Bill watched with a sense of sick fascination as the five year old boy cleaved the monster’s head clean off. Then Dean turned to him.

“You okay?”

“Uh… I will be.”

The boy got to his feet and tried to wipe some of the blood from his face, only succeeding in further smearing the sticky red substance on his soft, pale skin. “Good. Keep pressure on that if you can. There’s only a few more vamps left, so fall back and cover the door to the hideaway room and Cas will take up your position. You did awesome, man.”

Not only was it strange to hear those words come from a child’s mouth, but maybe the weirdest part was that it didn’t seem like it should be strange. Dean was a kid but he was a hunter and he’d just saved Bill’s life. Bill gratefully weaved his way over to guard the door to the room where his wife was still safe and sound. He seriously owed the Winchesters. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

When the vampires had made it to the bar, Castiel hadn’t even let them get close enough to lay a finger on Dean before he had begun attacking them. He knew that his young friend was a more than capable hunter but he also knew how the vampires would see him: an easy target. They would swarm him. So, Castiel decided that he wouldn’t give them the opportunity to harm the boy. Besides, Dean had already done more than his part by injuring countless vampires with the throwing knives while the angel had just stood by his side and waited for his turn to act. But still, as they got to the bar, Dean had a hard time fighting them off, even with the angel’s help. When Dean was knocked back onto the bar top, Castiel swung his sword in an arch with all his strength and decapitated three vampires with a single blow.

Then Bill went down, and Dean called out “Watch my back!” as if he needed to ask, and then jumped off the bar to help. Castiel kept the other blood drinking creatures away from the small hunter as Dean beheaded the vampire that had almost killed Bill Harvelle. Afterwards, the angel did as Dean requested and took up Bill’s empty spot when the injured hunter fell back. He was pleased that Dean stuck close to his side, as he was concerned that the boy would try to go off on his own. But it seemed that he recognized his own limits and was taking the necessary precautions. 

Castiel spun around, using his momentum to take the head off of an oncoming vampire. Its fanged mouth was caught forever in a look of surprise as its head was hurled across the room and the body crumpled to the floor. The angel turned, ready for the next enemy, but was surprised to realize that there were none left standing. They had won with zero casualties. But not without injuries. Bill was the worst off, with a serious but not fatal neck wound. John was cradling his left forearm, which was dripping blood from a jagged cut. Mary had a small cut on her forehead. Gordon was limping and was bleeding from the back of his skull. And Dean’s shirt was torn right over his ribs and was soaking through with blood. Castiel suspected that he’d broken a beer bottle when the vampire had knocked him back onto the bar top and had gotten cut on the glass. Castiel himself was feeling the fight and knew that if he wasn’t an angel he’d be all shades of black and blue. 

“Success!” Gordon cheered. “Those blood suckers got what was coming to them!”

Suddenly, a silver throwing knife shot through the air and embedded itself in the man’s shoulder. Gordon cried out in pain and shock. 

“And now you got a little bit of what you got coming to you.”

Everyone turned their heads to see Dean standing staring coldly at the hunter. Castiel had seen that look in his friend’s eyes before and it never ended well. 

“What the hell?” Gordon growled. 

“You led them back here and could’ve gotten us all killed, you douche-bag.”

“They needed to die!” Castiel didn’t like the semi-crazed look in Gordon’s eyes as he pulled the knife from his shoulder, dropped it to the floor and stalked towards Dean. John began to walk towards his son protectively. “All of them! You all may be content to sit here and do nothing as monsters roam free, but I’m going to hunt every last one down and kill them all!”

“Then here’s some advice, Gordo.” Dean sneered. “Not all vampires are monsters, and not all monsters are vampires. You want to see a real monster? Look in a mirror.”

Gordon made a lunge at Dean and John ran forwards to stop him but Castiel’s fist connected with the hunter’s face before either of the others could complete their actions. The crack of bone could be heard throughout the bar, followed by the thud as Gordon’s body hit the floor. Then there was a stunned silence. 

“Get up and leave.” Castiel ordered. “If you have even a small amount of intelligence, you will not speak a word or allow your path to cross any of ours again.”

“I will kill you.” Gordon managed to choke out through his broken jaw.

“No, you won’t. However, not only is every single person in this room extremely capable of ending your existence, but they are also more than willing to do so, myself included.”

Gordon pulled himself to his feet and held his machete up in an attack position. Castiel didn’t even bother to raise his weapon. He merely narrowed his eyes and glared at the man. 

“Try me.” Castiel challenged.

Gordon looked at Castiel, then Dean. Slowly he turned to take in all the others and then shuffled backwards to the door. 

“You’ve all made an enemy today.” He spat out.

“We can live with that.” John declared.

With that, Gordon spun around and left the bar.


	39. Out on a Deserted Road

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Out on a Deserted Road

The Roadhouse was in full swing now, with almost a dozen hunters scattered around the room. Two were at the bar, downing drinks at an alarming rate, some were playing darts or pool, while others gathered at tables swapping stories. A simple nod from Ellen had been all it took to let the others know that it was alright to talk freely in front of the Winchesters. 

Dean sat up on the unoccupied pool table with his knees drawn up to his chest and his chin resting on them. He was tired and his side was in agony. His dad had stitched up his wound (thank God for Marine first aid training) but it still hurt like a bitch. Ellen had offered him the cot in the back to rest on but he’d turned it down, knowing that Bill needed it more than he did.

While his dad and Ellen had tended to Bill’s wound, Cas had used his powers to transport the vampires’ bodies out back and then they’d been burned. The group had almost finished righting all the unbroken tables and chairs when the first customers had started making their way inside. Since Bill was resting, Mary had volunteered to help Ellen serve drinks and food to the hunters. Dean got a few curious looks, but for the most part was left alone. Mostly, he was waiting for an opening to leave and go check out the truck full of dead hunters that had led to Gordon Walker darkening their doorstep. His parents could stay here and keep the Harvelles and the other hunters busy while Cas took him to go investigate. Dean had already quietly run the plan by his dad and while the man wasn’t thrilled with the idea, he’d grudgingly okayed it. Now Dean was just waiting for the right moment to slip away. 

The boy pulled his flannel tighter around his body to hide the bloody, torn t-shirt underneath. The first hunters through the door had noticed and Dean had found himself uncomfortable with the attention. He didn’t know any of them and didn’t like the questions. The story being told was that Gordon had led a group of vampires back to the Roadhouse and the Harvelles and Winchesters had helped fight them off. Dean’s role had been downplayed at his family’s insistence but they couldn’t say that he wasn’t involved since they were certain that Gordon would be spreading the story as well. 

“So, ya saw some action tah-night, eh kid?”

Dean looked up at a red haired man that was covered in scars and was missing his left eye. This guy sure didn’t look like he was someone who came up on the lucky side of the hunt very often. He probably had been long dead before Dean had found his way to the Roadhouse the first time around.

“Yes, sir.”

“Ya wanna sip of some good stuff, kid?” The man held out a bottle of cheap-ass whiskey. Dean wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that the hunter had smuggled the bottle into the bar himself to avoid buying the better, yet more expensive stuff that Ellen kept on hand.

“Uh, you know I’m still a couple years away from turning twenty-one, right?” While a drink sounded like a good idea, he sure as hell wasn’t going to drink out of the same bottle as this guy.

The guy let out a loud, drunken laugh. “Ha! You’re funny, kid! I like ya. But really, ain’t no one care ‘bout your age. Get ya-self a sip. Go ahead.”

“I think my dad cares. So, yeah, I’ll pass. But thanks for the offer.”

“Suit ya-self.”

Scar walked away, but Dean wasn’t given a moment alone as a beautiful woman took his spot almost immediately. She was dressed in tight jeans, a leather jacket, knee high boots, and her long dark hair hung freely over her shoulders. While it was a much better view than he’d had a moment before, Dean really didn’t want the company. Still, he favored the lady with his most charming smile. As an adult, it would’ve been flirtatious, now he knew it was just considered to be adorable. 

“I’m sorry about Ralph. He gives hunters a bad name. Of course, so do more than half the hunters out there, so maybe us hunters deserve the name we have, huh?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m just a kid, so what do I know?”

The woman smiled. “You look like you’ve seen too much to be ‘just a kid’. Look, I’ve been there too. My parents took me on my first hunt when I was eight. A bit older than you, and I didn’t have to do anything other than play lookout, but I get it.”

“I’m not looking to talk ‘bout my feelings, lady. I just want to sit here and enjoy the music and my root beer.”

“You telling me to get lost?” She seemed amused.

“If you weren’t so pretty, yeah, that’s what I’d be saying.”

“You’re going to grow up to be a handful.” She informed him. 

“You have no idea.”

“Just don’t grow up too fast.” She threw him one last smile and then walked off. Dean watched her go and then waved Cas over.

When the angel arrived, the young hunter hopped off the pool table. “Sammy asleep yet?”

“He just went out.”

“Used your powers, didn’t you?”

“He napped for so long earlier, and was so energized now that I could find no other way to…”

“It’s fine, Cas.” Dean cut him off. “But we should get going.” They started walking towards the front door. His dad would cover for them with the excuse that they were going for a walk to ‘get some air’. 

Dean wondered how long they were going to be able to keep this charade up. Bill and Ellen weren’t stupid and Bill had seen him in a fight. And Dean hadn’t pulled any punches. He couldn’t have afforded to since lives were on the line. No matter how much training a five year old had, there was no way a kid could’ve done what he had. Bill hadn’t asked him about it yet, pain and blood loss had taken priority over a round of twenty questions, but Dean knew that the inquiry was coming. He just wasn’t sure how to answer. He couldn’t tell them the truth. It would put everyone in danger. Would they even believe the truth? Well, that was a bridge that would have to be crossed when they came to it… and if it collapsed under them, he hoped that they wouldn’t all drown in the dangerous waters below. 

Once he and Cas were outside and far enough away that no hunters would see their departure, the angel laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder and the two time displaced friends disappeared. 

The pair found themselves standing on a lonely stretch of road surrounded by a whole lot of nothing. Well, nothing aside from an old dark blue pickup truck. At least, Dean assumed that at one time it was supposed to have been dark blue. Now it was ninety-eight percent rust. The setting sun was reflecting off the windshield making it impossible to see inside, but Dean knew that two bodies were in the cab and the other two hunters would be in the bed of the truck. He looked up at Cas and gestured for them to go around back first. No sense opening the doors first. Dean always hated it when dead and possibly bloody bodies tumbled out at him. The ones in the bed would be easier to examine. He had to wonder though what could’ve killed all four hunters without a single one of them getting out to fight back.

As they rounded the back of the truck, Cas lifted Dean up and placed the boy on his shoulders. In that position, the small hunter was the first to get a good look at the bodies in the bed of the pickup. His eyes widened.

“Cas…”

“I see them.” The angel commented as they drew closer.

“But that… it means…”

“Yes.”

Dean stared at the bodies. They lay against the back window, clutching their shotguns to their chests, heads lolled to the side. And their eyes were burned out of their sockets. 

“An angel killed them.” Dean made it a statement, not a question.

“So it would appear.”

“We need to take a closer look.”

“I agree.” 

Cas put Dean down in the truck next to the tailgate, as far away from the bodies as possible. Dean wrinkled his nose. 

“Angels weren’t the only ones hanging around these hunters. This whole truck reeks of sulfur. I’d say at least one of these guys was possessed.”

“They were probably on their way to the Roadhouse. If they’ve been keeping tabs on your family they would’ve known that you’d made contact with the Harvelles.”

“So where do the angels come in?” Dean wanted to know.

“Perhaps protecting your family?”

“That would be a first.” Dean muttered.

“Yes, I admit that it is unlikely.”

“Seriously, Cas, what the hell is going on? We already know that the demons are interested in me but the angels haven’t showed their douchy heads ‘til now. So what do four dead hunters gotta do with it?”

“I’ll check the ones up front.” 

Dean shrugged. “Knock yourself out, man.”

The boy stood staring at the bodies, wondering if he should investigate them any further. He didn’t really have to check for ID or anything. The corpses would eventually be discovered by the authorities and that stuff would be taken care of. But maybe he could find some clues as to why demons chose these guys to ride. But Dean knew he was just kidding himself. If he wanted to see the reason that these hunters were dead, all he needed to look at was a mirror. This was all connected to him somehow. But then again, what wasn’t. If he wasn’t busy saving the world, he was getting people killed.

Dean was pulled from his dark thoughts by footsteps. His head snapped up and he saw a figure approaching. Something in his stomach felt unsettled and he knew that trouble was approaching. 

“Cas,” He kept his voice low. “Stay out of sight.”

The man approached and Dean stood at the edge of the truck’s bed, right near the tailgate. He drew himself to his full, not very impressive height. The guy that walked towards him was about five foot-nine and had light blonde hair. His eyes were blue and cool, his lips pulled up in a smile that was almost convincing. He was dressed in a nice pair of pants and a gray polo shirt. As he reached the truck, the man inclined his head to look up at Dean.

“You are Dean Winchester.”

“And you’re an angel.”

This seemed to surprise the angel. “Yes. You’ve heard of us?”

“I’m a hunter. I’ve heard of a lot of things. Demons, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, angels. You’re all the same.”

“You would group us in with the monsters?”

“You killed these hunters.”

“They were possessed.”

“They could’ve been freed.” Dean shot back.

“You are strange. Not like other children.”

“Which angel are you?” Dean asked. “And what do you want?”

“I want to protect you. These demons were on their way to the very bar where you were with your parents.”

“You didn’t answer my first question. And as for protecting me, where were you all the other times that the demons were after me and my family? Forget it, Wings, I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

“My name is Michael, and I am an archangel.”

Dean took an involuntary step backwards as he felt his childish emotions take over. “You stay the hell away from me and my family!”

“I mean you no harm, Dean. I can protect you. I have discovered that a powerful and sadistic demon named Alastair has plans for you and I can offer you protection from him. All I would need from you in return is your promise to help me when you are older.”

“Forget it.” Dean sneered. “I’ll take on a million Alastairs before I make a deal with you.”

“You are making a mistake.”

“He said no.”

Dean turned to see Cas standing next to the truck. Michael stared at him, head cocked to the side, eyes intense. Dean hoped that whatever cloaking spell Cas had put on the both of them all those months ago held up to the archangel’s scrutiny. 

“You seem… familiar…” Michael commented. 

“If you’ve been spying on the Winchesters, then you’ve seen quite a bit of me. I have been guarding this child more than you have, for a so-called angel.” 

Dean would deny it later if asked, but at that moment he let out a little giggle. 

Michael’s face darkened. “It would be a mistake to make an enemy of me.”

“No one said anything about being enemies, dude.” Dean spoke up. “That ball is in your corner. I just said that I sure as hell ain’t making any deals with you. I was going for the whole ‘live and let live’ thing.”

“You watched the confrontation at the bar, didn’t you?” Cas asked.

“Yes.”

“You would’ve prevented the hunters from reaching Gordon whether they were possessed or not. You wanted to observe Dean, just as the demons are.”

“There is something very wrong with him.”

“Standing right here.” Dean waved his hand to catch their attention. 

“He has not had it easy as of late. And you are not helping his situation. So please leave him alone. And that is the last time I will ask nicely.”

Michael seemed almost amused by the threat, but then took in the expressions on both of their faces and apparently decided that he wouldn’t be getting anywhere with either of them at that moment.

“I’ll be back.”

“Whatever, Terminator.” At their blank stares, Dean shrugged. “Hey, in a few months most people are going to find that comment hilarious.” 

With one last assessing glance in the boy’s direction, Michael disappeared. Dean let out a groan and leapt out of the truck. 

“Of all the angels to show up, why the hell did it have to be him?”

“Is there an angel you would’ve preferred?”

Dean thought it over. “Uh… maybe Balthazar?” Truthfully, he was slightly relieved that it hadn’t been Uriel, Zachariah, or Raphael. They probably would’ve just kidnapped him and tortured him into saying yes. And Dean really wasn’t in the mood to be tortured at the moment. Michael at least seemed to like negotiations more than strong arm tactics… at the moment anyway. Who knew what would happen when he continued to not get his way. “So, what’s up with him riding Joe Shmoe?”

“Well, Nick wasn’t Lucifer’s true vessel and he used him for quite some time. Obviously Michael wanted to come down here himself for some reason and found someone willing to say yes.”

“Poor deluded bastard.” Dean shook his head. “But at least now we know the score. Both sides know that something is up with me but neither know the real story. I guess it’s now a race to see which side makes a move next.”


	40. John Winchester’s Son

Chapter Forty: John Winchester’s Son

The second bottle of beer was disappearing way too fast and John had sworn that he wasn’t going to drink enough to get drunk, so he’d have to try to stretch the last little bit for as long as possible. He tipped the bottle to his lips and took a long pull of the brew. The empty bottle made a clinking sound as it was placed back on the bar top. Well, so much for making it last. 

John signaled for another and a moment later a cold glass bottle was placed in front of him.

“Your wife says that this is the last one.”

The hunter (damn, was that what he was now?) looked up to see Ellen standing over him. “That’s only ‘cause my wife is smarter when it comes to stuff like that.”

She smiled at him. “In all the craziness, I never got a chance to thank you all for sticking around. From the way my husband tells it, we never would’ve stood a chance without you guys.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Said your boy saved his life.”

And there it was. The very thing that John was trying NOT to think about. That mental image of his five year old son sitting on a person’s (a vampire’s, not a person’s) chest and cutting their head clean off. Only it hadn’t been clean. It had been bloody and gory and the boy had just wiped it all over his face and pants and had gotten up and continued on his way. John himself, despite all of his experiences in the Marines, had felt slightly ill while decapitating the creatures that could almost pass for humans. But his son hadn’t even flinched. John knew that Dean was in actuality over thirty years old but every time the father looked at him, he saw his little boy and that was just not something that a little boy should be capable of. Hell, it wasn’t something that anyone should be capable of. What kind of person had he raised his son to be? What had he put that child through? In the aftermath of the fight, he’d stitched up his son’s side as the boy had cried (and pretended that he wasn’t) and they’d all avoided discussing anything of importance due to the fact that the Harvelles were within earshot. John had wanted to head straight home, but Mary had wanted to help Ellen out with the bar and Dean had wanted to investigate the dead hunters, so he’d found himself out-voted. And now here he was, sitting at the bar, having a conversation that he didn’t want to be having.

“Well, Dean’s good in a fight.” John replied simply. 

“You don’t sound too pleased about that.”

“Would you want your kid to be a hunter at age five?”

Ellen put her hand on her belly. “No.”

“Well, fate’s not been very kind to Dean and our circumstances left us no other choice.”

Ellen placed a hand over John’s and gave him a look filled with compassion. “I’ll sneak you another drink in a while if you need it.”

John let out a small, humorless laugh. “Thanks, but I won’t leave you to deal with Mary’s wrath.”

Ellen walked off to take care of another customer and John turned his attention back to the bar top. Several other hunters had approached him to talk, and he’d ignored them all. He was doing this job because he needed to protect his family and because apparently there were people that needed the Winchesters to save them and he wasn’t about to leave it all up to Dean, but that didn’t mean that he needed to become buddies with the whole hunting community. He’d noticed that his son had dismissed the hunters that had tried to strike up conversation with him just as quickly. Must be a Winchester guy thing since Mary seemed to be at least trying to be polite. Of course, she was helping to tend bar and it was an unspoken rule that conversation was part of the job. 

John sighed. He really wanted to excuse himself and leave, but the only room to go into was currently occupied by Bill and either the man would be sleeping, and in that case John didn’t want to disturb him, or he’d be awake, and in that case John didn’t want to answer the questions about Dean’s hunting abilities that the man would certainly ask. 

The troubled man glanced back as he heard the door to the bar open and saw Castiel and Dean reenter the Roadhouse. The angel looked uptight, more so than usual, and Dean looked almost devastated. That had John up and across the room in a flash. He knelt down on the ground, not caring that just a few hours ago there’d been dead vampires in that exact spot or that him and his son were blocking the entrance to the bar. All he cared about was finding out what was wrong with Dean.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” He asked, slipping back into using the nickname he’d favored before November. He tried hard not to use it too much, unsure of how a thirty year old would feel about it, but it came to him naturally whenever his son was in distress. 

The boy shrugged. “Nothing.” But his voice sounded like he had swallowed a cup full of broken glass.

John laid a hand on his son’s cheek and was surprised when the child leaned slightly into the touch. “Dean?”

“Why can’t they all just leave me alone?” It was almost a whisper and if the boy’s father wasn’t so close, he would’ve missed it. But there was no way that he could miss the tears that were gathering in his son’s eyes. And he knew Dean well enough to know that the boy was going to want to privacy if he was getting emotional.

John considered picking the boy up but dismissed it as possibly seeming humiliating for Dean and settled for taking the child’s hand and leading him through the crowd and into the backroom. Bill was sitting up on the cot, looking groggy but otherwise okay. Sammy was fast asleep on a pile of blankets and if what John understood about the angel’s powers were correct, nothing short of an apocalypse would wake the baby. He hoped it didn’t come to that but with the way his life had been going lately, he never knew…

“Hey Bill, could Dean and I have the room for a moment?”

The other man looked at them for a moment and then took in the boy’s glassy looking eyes and nodded. John smiled as the guy left. Bill Harvelle was going to make a pretty good father. 

Once alone, John picked Dean up and sat on the cot, placing the child on his lap. “So, what happened?”

What followed wasn’t the apocalypse, but it was pretty damned close. “Angels, Dad! It was angels. The demons are still after me and now the angels are too. ‘Cept Michael’s all pretending that it’s for my own good, and that he’s trying to help, and that this isn’t all just some big old cosmic game of chess where I’m the freakin’ game piece that everyone is fighting over!” With that, Dean pulled away and jumped off John’s lap and started pacing the room. Anger was pouring off of the small child as he moved restlessly. “They don’t even know what’s going on yet, or who I really am, or how to get their plans back on track and yet they still all want to get their hands on me! I can’t do this again! I can’t!”

“Dean, calm down. We can…”

“What? What can we do, Dad? They hold all the cards and they’ll do anything for a chance to play them. Last time the demons killed Sammy to force me into making a deal to get me into Hell, where they spent decades torturing me. Decades! They broke me, Dad. And they’ll do it all again to get what they want. And the angels, they weren’t any better. They tricked us, and locked me up in their little hidden room, threatened me, Zachariah even gave me stomach cancer to force me to do what he wanted. And neither side is going to care that I’m in slightly smaller packaging this time around. Hell, they’ll probably take advantage of it.” Now the anger and yelling from moments ago had dissolved into fear and tears. 

John went to his son and wrapped him in a hug. This was not the warrior that had decapitated vampires without a second thought just a few hours ago. This was his five year old boy. John was beginning to realize that it was as if he now had two Deans to take care of. One needed to be treated like an adult, needed to hunt, to joke around, to take care of Sammy. That Dean was a wiseass who tried hard to be strong for everyone and took control of bad situations. He was damaged, but refused to admit it, even to himself, for fear that it would make him seem weak and prevent him from being able to do his job. But then there was the other Dean. The five year old who couldn’t help but be a child. His emotions were drowning him and he needed to be held and taken care of and told that everything would be alright, even when he knew that it was all a lie. He was beyond damaged and couldn’t help but admit it, even while fearing that it would make him appear weak. John kind of preferred the child-like Dean but he loved them both.

“You have us this time around, Dean. We’ll keep you safe.”

The boy pulled back, his eyes huge with fear. “No! No, they’ll just use you to get to me too and I’m not gonna let them do that to you, Dad. No one’s gonna get hurt ‘cause of me ever again.”

“Dean, we’re a family. We look out for one another. If we all watch each other’s backs, like we do on the hunts, no one has to get hurt.”

Dean seemed to think this over, biting his lip and slowly nodding. He actually looked younger than five, if that was even possible. John reached out and gently wiped the tears from his face. “Don’t die for me, okay?” The boy pleaded.

John really didn’t want to make that promise, but looking down into the child’s desperate eyes, he decided that he’d say anything at that moment to bring the boy some peace. “No one has to die. We can all make it through this together.”

Dean nodded, looking more certain this time. “Can we go home soon, Dad? I’m ready for today to be over with.”

“So am I, son.”

Dean nodded, suddenly switching gears and looking far older than five. “First vamp kill’s not that easy, huh?”

“They look an awful lot like people.”

“But they’re not.”

“They were.” John shot back.

“Yeah.” Dean agreed. “But there’s no going back. Well, not usually.”

“Usually?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s a cure but you gotta take it before you drink even a drop of human blood and it tastes like crap and it’s a bad trip and not highly recommended and… can we change the subject please?”

“Dean…” John was getting a really bad feeling that his son was speaking from personal experience. “Did you…”

“Can we change the subject please?” It was asked a bit more forcefully this time.

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

“Awesome.”

“So, what exactly are we going to tell Bill when he starts asking questions?”

“Why you asking me? I’m just a kid?” Dean gave him a mischievous grin.

“You had no problem handing out orders earlier.”

“I knew what to do earlier.” Dean admitted. 

“So, no clue then?”

“No clue.”

John nodded. “Then I suggest a tactical retreat. We’ll go home, take some time to regroup, and come up with a good story before our paths cross next.”

“Sounds good to me.” Dean approved.

John picked his son up and wasn’t sure what to expect. Was he going to encounter the Dean that would want to be put down to walk out of the room on his own? Or the Dean that would lean into him and allow himself to be carried? 

Dean hesitated a moment and then laid his head on John’s shoulder with a badly suppressed yawn. It was long past the boy’s bedtime and thus time for the Winchesters to say their goodbyes.

He carried his son out of the backroom and saw the Harvelles standing together behind the bar, arms around each other as though they weren’t in the middle of a crowded establishment. He smiled and waved his own wife over. She walked to him and gave him a hug.

“You guys okay?”

“We will be. Can you go grab Sammy? We need to be heading out.”

“No problem.” With a kiss to his cheek, she was gone. 

John glanced over at Castiel, who hadn’t moved from his position by the door. He’d wait until tomorrow, when Dean was busy with Sammy, and then get the details of what had happened that night from the angel. No sense upsetting his kid further by trying to get it from him. But he had to know what exactly was going on to know what to expect. And he would need to know what to expect if he was going to protect his son from whatever was to come. And make no mistake about it, John Winchester was going to find some way to protect his son from whatever was to come.


	41. “D…”

Chapter Forty-One: “D…” 

It was bright. Sammy blinked and reached up to grab the light. Like always, his hand went right through. It didn’t matter. The light felt nice in his hand. Warm was nice and as the days passed the warmth was getting warmer. It was nice.

But what wasn’t nice was that his tummy was empty. It always was when he woke up. Waking up was bad because his tummy wasn’t full but his diaper was. Should he cry to get Mama to come? Yeah, would be good.

Just as he was getting ready to cry, he heard someone walk into the room. Maybe he’d hold off on the crying. Unless it was Cas. Cas always got the food ready much faster if Sammy cried. 

Dean! Oh, good! Sammy should’ve known that Dean wouldn’t let him stay hungry. Sammy rarely had to cry for food anymore since Dean got up early and made sure he got fed as soon as Sammy was awake. Sammy loved all the people that took care of him but Dean was special. Dean was small, like him, and just… special. Sammy was safe with Dean. Sammy was loved with Dean. Dean made everything fun.

“Hey, Sammy! I wanted to be the first one to say this: Happy birthday!”

Sammy blinked at Dean. Dean’s words made no sense to him, but Dean was happy, so Sammy was happy. The side of Sammy’s crib was lowered and Dean picked Sammy up and took him out. Sammy was carried over to the bright blue changing table and laid down on top of the soft pillow top. Dean took Sammy’s sleeping clothes off and removed the wet diaper talking to Sammy the whole time. Dean didn’t talk to him like most people did, in short words and a high voice but he talked to Sammy like he talked to everyone else. It was nice. Everything about Dean was nice. Dean was so nice that Sammy tried hard not to move too much so that Dean could change his clothes faster. 

“Wow Sammy, you’re really growing, huh. Not gonna fit into these pajamas much longer. Good thing too. These ones are kinda ugly. I’ll help Mom pick out your next pair. Don’t worry, I remember all the stuff you like. It’s supposed to be warm today so I picked out a short sleeve shirt for you. It’s green, your favorite, and it’s got a brown dinosaur on it and says ‘giggle-saurus’. A little lame, but still cute. Oh, and a pair of brown pants. Cool looking pants though, not dorky looking. You’ll dress like a geek enough when you’re older.”

As he talked, Dean got Sammy dressed. Sammy gurgled happily,

“D…” Sammy got the ‘D’ sound out but nothing more. He’d been trying for a long time to talk with no luck. He really wanted to say ‘Dean’ because Dean said ‘Sammy’ a lot. Also, Mama always wanted Sammy to say ‘Mama’ and Dada always wanted Sammy to say ‘Dada’ but Dean never made him say anything so Sammy liked that very much. 

“What’s up, Sammy? You need something? Or you just telling me to shut the hell up and get you your breakfast before you starve to death.”

“D…”

“If your first word is ‘dude’ Mom and Dad are gonna kill me.” Dean picked Sammy up and held him close. Sammy reached up and touched Dean’s hair. He liked how it was soft, yet a little prickly. “Hey, quit messing up my hair, Sammy. It too me five whole seconds to style it this morning.” 

Sammy wasn’t quite sure what Dean was talking about, but Dean was laughing as he was talking, so Sammy giggled too. Dean was funny. Dean took him down the stairs and Sammy went from being happy to being very happy. There were lots of colorful balloons everywhere! He squealed in delight.

Mama and Dada came over and yelled “Happy birthday, Sammy!” Sammy still didn’t know what that meant, but it seemed to be a good thing because as he looked around, even Cas was smiling. 

“I see your brother got you up and out of bed.” Mama said.

His brother. That’s what they called Dean sometimes, so Dean must be a brother, but to Sammy he was always just Dean. Dean was too special to be called anything else.

“He’s hungry, Mom. I’m gonna make him some birthday pancakes, since he’s got four teeth now. We still got strawberries?”

“If you fill him up on strawberries, guess who’s changing his diapers today?” Mama asked.

Sammy wondered what strawberries had to do with diapers.

“What do strawberries have to do with who changes Sam’s diapers?” Cas asked.

Dean, Mama, and Dada all laughed. 

Dean carried Sammy into the eating room and placed him in the chair. Dean gave him a chewing toy and a rattling toy and left the room. Sammy shook the green rattling toy and chewed on the blue chewing toy and listened to Dean singing in the other room. Dean sung a lot to Sammy. Sammy liked Dean’s voice.

Mama came in and kissed Sammy’s face and said that she loved him. Sammy giggled and kissed her back. Then she went in the room with Dean. Dada sat at the table near Sammy and picked up a large piece of paper and held it in front of his face. He did this most mornings and Sammy never knew why it was fun to him. It had no bright colors or pictures. 

Sammy was just beginning to feel a bit fidgety and fussy when Dean came back in holding a plate of pancakes covered in strawberries and white creamy stuff. Sammy clapped his hands and laughed. Oh yes! This was the best breakfast ever!

“Dean! This is Sam’s breakfast, not desert!”

“It’s his birthday, Dad. He needs the whipped cream on top.”

“And when he gets a stomach ache?”

“He’ll be fine, won’t you Sammy?” Dean smiled brightly at Sammy and used the fork to cut a piece of the pancake off. 

Sammy opened his mouth and leaned forwards as much as the chair would let him. Dean put the forkful of yummy food in Sammy’s mouth. It was great! Sammy chewed it quickly and swallowed it and then opened his mouth for more. Dean was ready with another piece. 

After a while, Sammy felt like his tummy was full and he stopped opening his mouth. 

“Done, Sammy?”

Sammy nodded. He tried again to say Dean’s name but only got out the ‘D’ sound. 

“Dad, can I show Sammy the big surprise now please?”

“You just filled him up on pancakes and now you want to show him the surprise? You want to get a second look at his breakfast, Dean?”

“I’ll push him gently. C’mon Dad, please.”

“Okay, let’s go. But put his jacket on him.”

“Let’s get your jacket on, Sammy. We have a birthday surprise for you.”

Sammy smiled happily as Dean picked him up out of the chair and carried him over to the couch. He was placed on the soft couch and he rolled off landing on his feet and stood there, holding on tight as Dean ran out of the room. When Dean ran back in, he laughed.

“You just can’t wait, huh Sammy.” Dean put one of Sammy’s arms in the light brown jacket and then the other. Then Dean closed the jacket up and put a hat on his head. “You want me to pick you up or you wanna walk?” Sammy stomped his feet on the floor. “Walk it is.” Dean stood behind him and took both of his hands. Sammy placed one foot forwards and then the next. He tried to go fast like he’d seen Dean do but he almost fell. But Dean never let him fall. 

Soon they were at the door that led to the grass that Dada and Mama called the backyard. Everyone was waiting there and Dada opened the door and they went out. Dean picked him up and carried him out and Sammy was surprised to see something new in the grass. It was big and there was one just like it when they went to the park. And hanging from it was swings. There were swings in their backyard!

“Happy birthday, Sammy!” Dean called out again. “Dad and Mom got a swing set! It’s got two swings, one is a baby swing but can be traded out for a regular one when you get bigger, a seesaw swing for us to use when you’re older, and even a slide. I know that the swings are your favorite thing in the playground so I thought we could come outside now everyday and I could push you in the swing. And when you get bigger I’ll show you how to swing on your own.”

Sammy started reaching for the swing. He really wanted to ride it. He loved the swings. He loved Dean pushing him on the swing. Dean walked over and stepped up on a step that was next to the swing and put Sammy into the swing. Sammy looked back at him and tried to say ‘Dean’ again.

“D…”

“I’m going to go start on the cake.” Mama said.

“Castiel, can you help me put that item together?” Dada asked Cas.

“What item?”

“I can’t say in front of you know who?”

“You mean Sam? We will be giving him the item today so…”

“Castiel!”

“I don’t mind helping you, no.”

Dean started laughing. Sammy giggled too. Sammy liked it when Dean was happy. 

“Will you be okay out here with Sammy?”

“Yeah. I can get him in and out of the swing on my own. And Mom can hear me from the kitchen if I need to yell for help.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

Sammy watched Dada and Cas go back in and then Dean started pushing the swing. Sammy squealed with joy as the swing went higher and faster. It was fun. Dean started singing again. This was a fun day.

Just then, the swing stopped moving. Sammy waited for Dean to push him again but Dean didn’t. Sammy squirmed a bit. Nothing happened. He let out a little fussy noise but Dean still didn’t push him. Sammy turned to look but didn’t see Dean behind him. Then he heard a sound to his side. Sammy turned and saw Dean.

Dean was on the swings too, but in a strange way. The seat of the swing was on the ground and the chain was wrapped around Dean’s neck and he was swinging back and forth just a little. Dean’s legs were kicking and he was grabbing at the chain. There were tears in Dean’s eyes and he didn’t look like he was having fun anymore. Sammy decided he wasn’t having fun anymore either. Sammy started to cry. 

“Shhhh. Don’t cry, Sammy.” A voice said. 

Sammy looked over and saw a man standing in the grass. He was tall and thin and had dark hair. Sammy didn’t like him. He was mean. Dean was everything good and this man was everything bad. Sammy wanted this man to leave. But the man started to come closer. The man wasn’t looking at Sammy. The man was looking at Dean. Sammy looked at Dean. Dean’s face was the wrong color and he was making strange noises. Sammy was scared. This wasn’t a good day anymore. 

“Now Dean, if you were going to be spending time in the backyard, you should’ve protected it a bit better. Some salt mixed into the paint on your fence isn’t nearly strong enough for something like me.” The man turned to look at Sammy for a moment and Sammy saw that his eyes were all white. Then the man turned back to Dean. “If I remember correctly, the last time I saw you I promised that you and I would have another talk. And I always keep my promises.” Dean shook his head and more tears streamed down his face and Sammy cried even harder. The bad man laughed. “Oh, this is going to be fun, I can just tell.”

Fun? No. Sammy was not having fun. Dean was crying and hurt and Sammy was scared and the bad man was laughing and even his laugh was bad. Then the bad man reached his hand out and the swing chain came off the swing and floated through the air with Dean hanging on it. The bad man was taking Dean away from him! Dean was still making noises and crying but he was moving less and Sammy was getting more scared and crying harder. Dean dropped down a bit until he was being dragged on the ground and Sammy reached out for him, still crying. He loved Dean but the bad man didn’t. Sammy watched as Dean pulled at the chain around his neck.

“Sammy…”

“Oh, how touching. Using your last words to say goodbye to your brother. But if you just tell me what I want to know, then perhaps your life doesn’t have to end today.”

Dean shook his head.

“Well then, I suppose all bets are off.” 

Sammy watched as the chain pulled up into the air and Dean was pulled up too. Dean kicked, and cried, and made funny noises but the bad man just laughed. And all the while, Sammy sat in the baby swing, sobbing, reaching out to Dean, and trying to call out his name.

“D…”


	42. Chains and a Knife

Chapter Forty-Two: Chains and a Knife 

The day had been going so well. It was Sammy’s first birthday and Dean had just been enjoying making the little guy smile. But one second he’d been pushing his brother on the swing and the next he was hanging with a chain wrapped around his neck, not being able to breathe. He’d struggled to get free, but it was no use.

And then Alastair had shown up. Dean had known that it was Alastair before the bastard had flashed his pure white eyes. No other demon had the power (or the balls) to march into the Winchesters’ backyard and stage an attack. Besides, Dean just had to be in his presence to know; he could feel the evil oozing out of the son of a bitch.

Alastair started taunting him but Dean could barely focus on the words. He was beyond terrified that Sammy was going to get hurt. One of the worst demons ever was standing right there and there was no way that the one year old could protect himself. Sammy was crying now and it was breaking Dean’s heart even as he felt himself almost blacking out. 

Then the chain was moving away from the swing set and he was being pulled towards Alastair. His body hit the ground and the boy was being dragged across the grass and dirt. Dean pulled at the chain around his neck. Since his weight was no longer supported by it, he was able to get a breath in. He heard his brother crying and gasped out the baby’s name. 

“Oh, how touching. Using your last words to say goodbye to your brother. But if you just tell me what I want to know, then perhaps your life doesn’t have to end today.”

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t let Alastair in on the truth. More than just his life was at stake. 

“Well then, I suppose all bets are off.” 

The chain once again jerked him up off the ground and Dean gagged and choked as tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t breathe and his throat hurt so bad. And he was scared beyond belief. Hell, at this point it took all the control he had to not wet himself in front of this monster. 

“Put him down.”

His mom. Dean couldn’t turn his head to see her, but that was definitely her voice.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be doing that anytime soon. And if you even think about trying to go and get that nasty little colt or that knife, I’m afraid I’ll have to snap this poor child’s neck just as easily as I broke his arm at our last meeting.”

The dark spots that were dancing in front of his vision began to take up most of Dean’s world and the boy felt his body growing heavy. He prayed that the sadistic demon didn’t hurt his family once he was gone. 

And then his feet were touching the ground again. The chain gave a little slack and Dean gulped in some air, before collapsing to his knees. But his windpipe had been bruised and swollen and he just couldn’t get enough oxygen in. The boy whimpered a bit as he gasped and wheezed. Then a hand was in his hair, grabbing it painfully.

“Oh, you didn’t think it was sleepy time yet, did you, Dean? I won’t let you go that easy. But here’s the thing. I don’t think you’re the only one that knows your little secret. What about you, Mommy? You know what this little guy’s keeping from me?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I just want you to leave my son alone.” 

She sounded so desperate and scared that Dean would’ve believed her if he hadn’t known better. He just hoped that Alastair bought it.

“So, you haven’t noticed anything different about your son?”

“You mean besides the fact that you demons won’t leave him alone? That he’s lost his innocence at age five because of Azazel and you?”

Dean wished that he could pray to Cas for the angel to come and take care of Alastair, but he was aware that there was a Castiel up in Heaven as well as the one in the Winchester home and it would be a disaster if the wrong one heard him as well. The boy kept his head down as he worked to get air in through his damaged throat and tried to recover. He could still hear his baby brother crying and was glad that so far the demon hadn’t brought Sammy into this confrontation. But he’d have to end this quickly if he wanted to keep it that way. Of course, Dean only had his small iron pocket knife with him…

“Oh, I’ve seen demons terrorize children before. I personally try to get the opportunity whenever I can. And they don’t turn out like your son. There’s something very special about him.”

“Jealous?” His mom asked.

“Intrigued. You see, Hell has spent millennia and countless resources on a plan that a small child has now derailed. As you can imagine, that has not happened before.” Dean shuddered as Alastair released his hair only to stroke his head. The small hunter knew that he wouldn’t be able to get away since the chain was still coiled around his neck. He slipped his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his knife. He hoped that his dad and Cas would arrive soon. After all, how long did it take a mechanic and an angel to put together a Fisher-Price Cozy Coupe Car?

“We don’t know anything about any plans of yours. And I’m the one that killed Azazel that night. You want to hurt someone for disrupting your plans, hurt me.”

No! Dean thought. Not her. He didn’t want Alastair to hurt anyone in his family and he certainly didn’t want to go through losing his mother all over again.

“And just where did you get the weapon to kill him? Because from what I hear, the following morning, this young child supplied you with the weapons to fight Azazel’s children and fearlessly stood up to the demons. And right now, I am close enough to feel his soul. There is something cloaking it from me, which is curious enough by itself, but I can sense something off with him. So what is it?”

“I’ll… tell… you… if…” Dean gasped out. His voice was barely audible and it hurt so badly to talk.

Alastair knelt down low, an evil smirk on his borrowed features. “If what, boy?”

“If… Hell… freezes…” The boy finished as he pulled out the knife and jammed it into the bastard’s eye.

The demon howled in pain and Dean gestured wildly for his mom to grab Sammy. They needed to get inside. His mom understood and ran to the swing set, snatching the baby up in one swift motion, then running to the door. Dean tried to slip his head out of the chain, knowing that he wasn’t going to get far while still tethered to the demon, but it wasn’t loose enough. And then it was suddenly so much tighter and Dean was gasping for air again. 

“You think that that’s going to stop me, Dean?” Alastair sneered.

Dean’s feet were once again lifted from the ground, and then he was flying through the air and his small body hit the house hard. He slumped to the ground, chain still tight around his throat. Then the metal links tighten further and were dragging him over grass and dirt to the demon possessed man’s feet. Dean felt blood dripping down his neck from where the chain had bitten into the tender skin. He knew that he was crying and was beyond caring at the moment. Sammy was inside and safe. His parents and Cas were here and wouldn’t let him die. He just needed to hold on. He could do that. At least he hoped that he could. 

“I think you forgot something.” Dean looked up to see Alastair holding his pocket knife. “Nice little piece of work here. Iron blade, coated in holy water and salt. Of course, all you’re going to care about is that it’s sharp.” With that, Alastair plunged the knife deep into Dean’s upper left arm. The boy tried to scream, but barely any sound came out through his damaged throat. Then the demon pulled down on the weapon, leaving a bleeding gash in the boy’s flesh.

Dean was in agony and felt himself almost slipping into flashbacks of his time in Hell when strong arms wrapped around him and suddenly he found himself back inside the house being cradled in Cas’ lap. 

“Cas?”

“Don’t try to talk, Dean. Your mother told us you needed to be rescued.”

Suddenly the whole house started to shake.

Dean’s eyes widened in fear. “Not… safe. He’ll… break devil’s… traps. Get the… Colt. My room.” 

Cas gently handed Dean to his father who held the boy close. Dean saw his mom holding Sammy who was still sobbing pitifully and upon seeing his brother started reaching for the other boy. Dean forced a weak smile and reached up to pat the baby on the head when his mom knelt down next to them. Dean’s whole body started to shake and he coughed painfully. Then he felt pressure against his left arm and looked over to see that his dad was holding a towel to his wound. Yeah, that was probably a good idea.

Cas suddenly reappeared next to them, Colt in hand. Dean realized that they were in the basement, with Sammy’s brand new plastic red car fully assembled next to him, a bright silver bow on the top of it. The light bulb above them flickered and everything shook again. Dean felt his heartbeat pick up and gave up all semblance of courage as he buried his head in his dad’s chest. He was in agony, felt like he was seconds away from passing out, and was terrified beyond belief. And Alastair was coming.

“As much as I want to end this now, I don’t think this is the right time to fight.” Dean heard his mom say.

“What choice do we have?” His dad shot back. “I don’t think he’ll leave if we ask him nicely. Besides, we have the demon killing knife and the Colt.”

“The knife doesn’t work on him. Well, not without a perfect killing blow and a lot of luck.” Cas informed them. “And with the Colt, you will get one shot and one only. And I cannot guarantee that it will be enough either.”

“Get us somewhere safe, Cas.” Dean’s mom ordered.

Dean felt that strange displacement sensation and then heard Bobby’s exclamation of “What the hell! You Winchesters tryin’ ta give me a heart attack?”

“Sorry, Bobby. We needed a safe place to go. Alastair is after Dean.” His mom sounded so scared and sad.

Dean lifted his head up to look around. Bobby’s living room. He was safe. Bobby’s eyes widened as he saw the boy and he gasped.

“After ‘im? I’d say he got his hands on ‘im already!”

“The boys were playing out back…” Dean’s dad started.

“Alone?” Boy was Bobby pissed.

“We didn’t think…”

“No ya didn’t.”

Dean felt himself start to shake again and Sammy was crying even louder.

“Can we not do this now?” His dad asked pointedly. 

Bobby nodded. “I’ll break out the first aid kit.”

“Wait on that.” His dad handed Dean to Cas. “Heal him.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can. I saw you do it that first night. You brought him back to life for God’s sake! Now, heal him!”

Cas shook his head, holding Dean gently against his chest and rubbing the boy’s back comfortingly. “I was lucky that night that my use of those powers was not traced back to me. If I was to do it now, especially with us all under scrutiny, they would surely figure out what I am. Who I am.”

“You use your powers all the time.” Dean’s dad accused.

“Certain ones, yes. But those cannot give me away. Many beings can teleport, or place others in a sleeplike state but angels are the only ones known to heal or burn demons. That is why I need to be selective in the powers that I use. Right now, for all either side knows, I am only a human who perhaps can use some magic, but if Heaven figures out who I am, they will either destroy me or at the very least, cut me off from using any powers at all.”

Dean watched his dad nod reluctantly. “Better get that first aid kit after all, Bobby.” 

Dean was trying to feel ashamed for acting like the little child that he now looked like, but he just couldn’t muster up the strength for it. Besides, he’d once again faced down one of Hell’s most vicious demons, stabbed the son of a bitch in the eye, helped his mom get Sammy to safety, and hadn’t even peed himself, so if he wanted to cry like a baby in the arms of an angel during the aftermath, then that’s what he’d damned well do. 

“Should we take him to the hospital?” His mom asked. “His neck looks bad and I don’t like how deep that cut seems to be.”

“No hospital is gonna be protected from a demon attack.” Bobby reminded her.

“Besides,” His dad spoke up. “We just had him there in November and this will be very hard to explain. The police will get involved and so will child services.”

Dean shook his head, fearful of being taken away from his family. He’d dealt with lack of professional medical care his entire life and he’d much rather take that now than risk losing what he’d only recently gotten back. 

Cas carried him over to the couch and went to lay him down but Dean panicked and grabbed onto the angel’s trench coat for dear life. He absolutely refused to let go. He knew he was reacting irrationally but once again, he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He felt a wave of relief and gratitude wash over him when Cas sat on the couch and settled the boy into his lap. The angel was lightly restraining him and Den realized that his tiny, little body was still trembling uncontrollably. He wanted to say something to his friend but couldn’t, partially because he didn’t know what to say, partially because the inside of his throat was swelling even further and he didn’t think he could get a sound out even if he tried. Hell, at this point he could barely breathe. 

“Please tell me you have something in that kit for pain.” He heard his mom comment.

“After yer first visit, when I got ta realizing you were gonna be bringing a kid on all of yer hunts, I got prepared. This here’s a children’s local anesthetic. Use this cotton swab ta smear it on his arm around that gash and in a few minutes he won’t feel a thing as ya stitch him up. I ain’t got nothin’ for his neck though ‘cept maybe a cream fer the bruises. What the hell happened there?”

“Alastair tried to strangle him with a chain.” 

Dean trembled even harder at them memory of hanging by his neck in front of that monster.

“Please do not discuss this in front of Dean.” Cas instructed.

“Sorry.” Everybody responded at once.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to block out the entire experience from his mind as he felt something cool being spread on his arm. Moments later, the cool seemed to turn to ice and then into a blessed numbness. Now if only something could take the pain from his throat. As if reading his mind, Bobby’s gruff voice rang out close to Dean’s ear.

“Here boy, drink this.” Dean opened his eyes to see his old friend holding a steaming cup of something. 

Trusting the older hunter, the boy sat up with Cas’ help and took a sip. It was a struggle to swallow but the hot liquid was very soothing.

“What is it?”

“An old remedy.” Bobby answered Dean’s mom. “It’ll help relieve the pain and take down the internal swelling.”

Dean looked down and saw that, to his surprise, his father had already started to sew up his wound. The boy hadn’t felt a thing. He watched as his dad poured more disinfectant on the gash and it bubbled and fizzed. The man wiped it gently and stitched some more. Dean stared with a sense of sick fascination until Cas gently turned the boy’s head away. He looked up at the angel.

“We’ll set up better protection, Dean. Alastair won’t get another chance like that again.”

Dean felt tears begin to gather in his eyes once again. He knew that Cas was trying to make him feel better but he also knew that Alastair would never stop trying. Would he ever be safe?

“Cas…”

“If he so much as sets foot on the property again, it will be the last thing he ever does.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Dean rested his head on Cas and looked over at his parents. His dad was busy fixing up his arm, and his mom was still calming Sammy, tears silently running down her face. Since they were all trying their best to keep it together, he figured that he should too. So Dean nodded his head.

“Okay, Cas.”

When his arm was completely stitched and all wrapped up, Dean took some children’s Tylenol and finally climbed out of Cas’ lap. He was beginning to feel a bit calmer and, since the pain wasn’t quite as bad anymore, Dean felt more like himself. So when Sammy started reaching for him, the boy nodded to his mom and reached right back. When the baby was placed in his arms, the older brother held him tightly, glad that he hadn’t been injured. The little guy cooed happily, glad to have his big bro back. 

“Love you, Sammy.” Dean whispered, even though his throat was in indescribable amounts of pain.

“Dee!”

“What?”

“Dee!”

“Dean?”

Sammy nodded. His baby brother had just said his first word! Dean laughed despite his severely crappy day. “Good job!” He managed to say. He looked up at his family to see if they’d heard. By the astonished looks on their faces, he assumed that they had. 

“Oh, Sammy! You said your first word! That’s great!” His mom praised.

Dean smiled at Sammy and hugged the baby. He felt that what little strength he had left was leaving him, though. He was exhausted and just wanted to get some rest. Judging by Sammy’s big yawn, he wasn’t the only tired Winchester brother either.

“Nap?” He whispered.

Sammy nodded and held Dean tight. “Dee?”

Dean nodded. 

Minutes later, both boys were settled on the couch and ready to sleep, Cas’ hand on Dean’s head to keep the nightmares away. And Dean had a feeling that it was definitely going to be needed. He just hoped that his parents and Bobby were going to be able to keep the real life nightmares away from them while he was asleep.


	43. Sad and Broken

Chapter Forty-Three: Sad and Broken

Mary stood watching her sons sleeping on Bobby Singer’s couch and tried to stop the tears from running down her face. But every time she saw the ugly bruises and cuts marring Dean’s pale neck, she felt like running to the bathroom to be sick because it just brought those terrible images back to her mind so vividly that she could swear that she was standing right in her backyard. 

When she’d first gone outside, it had been because she’d heard Sammy crying and had feared that something had happened to the baby. Maybe he’d fallen from the swing or something. Normally Dean would’ve calmed his little brother so when the crying got worse instead of going away, Mary had stepped out to check on her boys to see what was wrong. At first, her brain had not been able to process what she saw. Her eldest son was dangling in the air, hanging from a thin swing chain wrapped around his neck. The chain was suspended from thin air. Dean’s face was turning a dark, purplish color and he was gasping for air that just was not filling his lungs. And that was an image that Mary feared was going to stay with her for the rest of her life. She was very glad that Sammy was far too young to fully comprehend today’s events or to remember them as he got older. She kind of envied him. 

“What the hell happened?”

Mary turned to see John standing besides her.

“I don’t know. I heard Sammy crying outside. When he didn’t stop right away, I went to check on the boys and I… Dean… he was hanging from the swing chain. Alastair was there too.” She spit the name out. “I thought he was going to strangle Dean to death right then but he put him down and then was asking both of us what Dean’s secret was. He really wants to know, John. I pretended that I didn’t know but I don’t think he bought it. Alastair let it slip that Hell’s plans have been ‘derailed’ and they blame Dean. Then Dean, he stabbed Alastair in the eye and pointed to Sammy. I took Sammy inside and came downstairs to get Castiel. I knew that he was the only one that could get Dean out of there before the demon could kill him.” Mary was crying before she had finished and John wrapped his arms around her. It was strange. Just half a year ago, she’d felt like their marriage was falling apart and was worried that he was going to leave one day and never return. And now… now the rest of their lives were falling apart but she couldn’t ask for a more supportive husband and father than John Winchester. 

“You did the right thing. Dean is safe now, Sammy’s okay, our family is together, and we got a chance to scare the crap out of Bobby again.”

“Funny, Winchester.” Bobby grumbled, as Mary actually laughed for the first time since seeing her son being strangled. “How ‘bout I pop up in the middle of yer house and see how you like it?”

“What are we going to do, John? Alastair got into our backyard. He attacked our son. Dean isn’t safe.”

“I’ll tell ya what yer gonna do.” Bobby interrupted. “Yer gonna stay here fer a couple days while ya take yer angel back and forth and protect yer house and property a bit more.”

“How?” John wanted to know. 

“Well, yer gonna start off with these.” Bobby held up something that looked an awful lot like a really large hubcap.

“A big hubcap?” Her husband questioned skeptically.

“Yeah, ya idjit, I’m gonna give ya a hubcap.” The older hunter shook his head and turned the heavy looking circle around to reveal intricate carvings. “It’s an iron plate carved with the Key of Solomon. We’re gonna bury these devil’s traps all over yer yard. Make yer property a mine field fer demons. Then we’re gonna buy ya some nice lookin’ water fountains and bird baths and yer gonna bless the water in all of ‘em so ya got yerself holy water everywhere. Oh, and Dean told me all about the panic room that I build when I’m older, and we’re gonna put one in yer house. That boy of yers is gonna be safe.”

Mary nodded, feeling slightly better now that they had a plan. And a good one at that. Once Dean was awake, and Castiel was able to transport them back to the house, they’d get to work. A small moan drew her attention over to the couch. Dean was shifting a bit, his face scrunched up in distress. A nightmare. 

Castiel had told her once that even with him holding the Hell memories back, Dean was the real one in control and if he thought too much on bad things he could bring those elements into the dreams. She prayed that the angel helped him to fight off whatever was troubling him. But Mary was a mother and wasn’t about to leave her son in someone else’s hands entirely, even if she knew there was little that she could do. 

She knelt down by the old couch and carded her hand through her boy’s short hair and made soft, shushing noises. Then, in a very quiet voice, Mary began to sing ‘Hey, Jude’ to Dean. He’d always liked that song. He whimpered a bit and her heart broke when she realized that nothing was working to calm him down. He’d simply been through too much. 

Dean’s eyes shot open and he sat up with a gasp and a cough. Mary rubbed his back soothingly, noticing that even as he came out of whatever Hell he’d been trapped in, he was careful to not knock Sammy off of his lap. The boy looked around the room with a desperate, haunted look in eyes that were filled with hopelessness and tears. Mary placed a gentle kiss on his forehead and wished that she could erase all the pain from his life. 

“Hey sweetie, you okay?”

“Yeah…” His voice was barely audible and was rough from the abuse it had suffered earlier that day. But Mary knew better than to tell him not to talk. If he wanted to be silent he would, if not, nothing would get him to remain quiet. “It was… nothing.”

“Dean’s dreams were interrupted by his memories of Alastair.” Castiel informed her.

“Cas!” Dean snapped.

“I figured that out on my own.” Mary replied. Then she turned to the angel. “You couldn’t do anything for him?”

“Was my… own fault.” Dean muttered.

“It was to be expected after today’s events.” Castiel responded. “You could not be expected to…”

“Everything…” Dean’s voice was much louder than he should’ve been able to project it at that moment, but his raw emotion had taken over and was powering him. “Everything today… it was all… all my fault.”

“What do you mean, sweetie? It wasn’t…”

“I forgot. I forgot… the things I’ve seen… the things… I’ve lived through. The thing’s I’ve done. And I allowed… myself to actually… be happy. But I can’t have that. I can never… have that. Because this… this is what… happens when I do.” Dean lapsed into a choking fit that seemed to last forever. 

Mary rubbed circles on his back and looked up at her husband feeling more helpless than ever. What was she supposed to do with that confession? Should she be pleased that her broken son had actually felt happy or devastated that he now felt that he wasn’t allowed to ever have that happiness in his life again?

“No, Dean. It’s not your fault. And you do deserve to be happy. You do.”

He shook his head in denial, still coughing. Tears were streaming down his face and Mary was positive that not all of them were from the choking. Sammy stirred from his nap and looked up at his big brother with concern. John picked up the baby and put on a fake, cheerful smile.

“Hey, Sammy. Dean’s got a bit of a cough right now, so why doesn’t Daddy hold you until he’s done?”

But Sammy wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head at his dad and pointed one chubby finger at Dean. “Dee!”

“How about ‘Dada’?”

“Dee!”

“I see how this goes.” John shook his head.

Dean had finally stopped coughing and even though he looked winded and weak, he reached out for his brother. John placed Sammy back down on his brother. Dean held Sammy tight to his chest as though he’d never let go, until the younger boy started to squirm. Dean placed him down on the ground and Sammy held onto the couch and shuffled his way over towards Bobby. In the past six months, both Bobby and Castiel had become like family to Sammy and he didn’t hesitate to go to either of them. 

As soon as the baby was off of him, Dean jumped off of the couch and made a rather fast retreat from the room. Mary went to follow, but Castiel stepped in front of her to block her way. She was about to push past (angel or not, no one got in between a mother and her child) when he spoke up.

“Let him be for a moment. He just revealed thoughts that he did not wish to reveal and now he wants solitude to think things over.”

“It may be what he wants, but it’s not what he needs.” Mary argued.

“I agree.”

“Then why…”

“Because Dean will not agree yet. Give him a few minutes alone and he will realize that he does not actually crave loneliness.”

Mary chuckled. “You know, for an angel, you’re awfully crafty.”

“I have actually never done any sort of crafts.”

She looked at him for a moment, trying to determine whether or not he was joking and then just shrugged. Either way, he’d had a good point about her son. If she went to Dean now, he’d just try to push her away, or he’d put on the whole ‘I’m an adult, I don’t need help’ act. But if she waited until he knew that he needed help, then maybe he’d accept it when she offered it. For the millionth time since November, she thanked Heaven that Castiel had followed Dean back to this time and had stayed with him.

Mary watched as Bobby and John discussed the protection plans with Castiel, and after a moment, the angel nodded and all three started gathering up the supplies that would be needed while Sammy amused himself by following them around. When she felt that she’d waited long enough, Mary went off to find her son. 

Bobby’s house wasn’t that big, she hadn’t heard his footsteps on the stairs, and she knew that Dean was smart enough not to run outside after the events of the morning, so it took her no time at all to find the small boy huddled up behind the large wooden desk in the study. It was obvious that he had been crying and Mary wasn’t sure how much more her heart was going to be able to take in one day.

“Hey, Dean. Is there room back there for one more?”

He shrugged but actually shifted to try and make some room. Mary took it as the invitation it was meant to be. She sat down besides him but made no move to put her arm around the boy. She wanted him to make the first move so as not to push too much and lose this moment.

“Sammy okay?” Dean’s voice sounded horrific.

“Yeah, he’s ‘helping’ the others pack some stuff up.” At Dean’s questioning look, Mary continued that explanation. “Bobby had some ideas on how to better protect our house. We’ll be staying here while that work is being done.” Dean nodded. She was relieved but also concerned that he didn’t ask to help with the protection work. “How are you doing?” 

The boy shrugged and a few tears escaped his eyes. “Hurts”

“Your throat?” 

A nod.

“Your arm too?”

Another nod. Dean chewed on his bottom lip.

“Anything else?”

A third nod; this one a bit hesitant.

“Oh sweetie, please tell me what’s wrong. Is it what you said earlier? About blaming yourself because you allowed yourself to be happy?”

Dean nodded again. 

“Oh Dean, if anyone deserves happiness, it’s you. You’re an amazing person. You’re right that you’ve been through so much that you can never forget, not even for a moment. And most people would take that and become cold and cruel and they’d be pure evil. But you, you are sweet and kind and full of love and you know what Dean? You are my hero.”

Dean shook his head and looked away. “You don’t… you don’t know everything.” He rasped.

“I know enough. I know you came back here and saved our family. And we can never repay you for that. And I know that I love you.” Mary was caught a bit off guard when Dean crawled into her lap and rested his head on her chest. She ran her hand through his hair soothingly as he cried.

“Promise me?”

“What?” Mary asked.

“Will you… love me… no matter what?”

“Of course.” Mary replied. “Dean, of course I will. I’ll always love you. Forever.”

He nodded his head, but other than that didn’t move. They sat like that for a long while, Dean slowly calming and Mary wondering what exactly her son had gone through in his life to make him into this broken person that she now held.


	44. Return Home

Chapter Forty-Four: Return Home

Castiel looked around the Winchesters’ backyard as soon as they appeared. It was empty. He didn’t want to reach out with his powers to feel for Alastair because that left the door open for Alastair to reach back in. And that wouldn’t end well. The only reason his rescue of Dean had gone off so smoothly was because Alastair had not known that Dean had an angel on his side. As soon as that advantage was gone, things were going to get a lot harder. 

“Well, we better start digging.” John announced, reaching for one of the shovels that Bobby held.

Castiel looked at him and then, without a word, took the rest of iron disks from the man’s hands and closed his eyes. He imagined the entire property and the best places for the protection to be so that the devil’s traps could not be avoided. The plates were transported to those spots instantly. 

“It’s done.” The angel announced.

“Well, what the hell’d ya make me carry the shovels fer then?” Bobby snapped.

“I didn’t instruct you to carry them.”

“Ya didn’t stop me either.”

“I did not think you would appreciate being ordered to…”

“But ya thought I would appreciate lugging these heavy shovels fer no goddamn reason?”

“Do I have to send you both to your rooms?” John asked. “Behave yourselves.”

Castiel looked around the yard. With the traps in place, they would now be going out to pick up the visually appealing containers to hold the holy water and get those installed next. After that, the three of them would start on the panic room. The plan was to go back to the Singer residence for dinner and cake tonight and hopefully finish the work tomorrow so that everyone could settle back into the house the following day. If Dean was emotionally ready, that was. Right now, Castiel’s young friend was still quite traumatized.

They headed inside so that John could get the car keys and then went out front to get into the car. It was still strange to ride in the Impala without Dean being the one driving. Castiel couldn’t think of the vehicle as belonging to anyone but him. 

As they made their way down the walk, Bobby hurried past Castiel to get to the other front seat. John had his hand on the handle when they heard laughter from across the street. 

“Well, well. What have we here? You boys heading off to the bar to drink away the excitement of the day? I hope you’re not thinking of leaving poor little Dean to play all alone again. You never know what might happen… even in your own backyard.”

Castiel looked up and saw Alastair standing in the neighbor’s well maintained yard, wearing the body of a tall, dark haired man. The angel’s first instinct was to march over there and strangle the demon with his bare hands. He wanted the monster to feel the pain that Dean had felt and to die slowly. But then he realized that that was not an option. Even if he managed to strangle the possessed body, the demon itself would not die. No, to get rid of Alastair once and for all they would need the Colt. A head or heart shot would do it, of that he was certain. Alastair may be a powerful demon, but he was still just a demon and the bullets would work. He’d only told John otherwise before because he’d been unsure whether or not they’d be able to take their adversary down with the first shot, and if not, Dean would’ve paid for their mistake. But now, with his friend safely out of harms way, Castiel was willing to risk the confrontation. He reached into his trench coat pocket and wrapped his fingers around the butt of the Colt that he had retrieved from Dean’s bedroom earlier.

“Ah, yes, mysterious, teleporting trench coat guy. Pull that gun out and shoot me. Maybe you’ll kill me, maybe you won’t. But the neighbors will ask a lot of questions, won’t they? What will little Deannie do with his beloved family locked away in jail for murder? Who would protect him then? Or, maybe I’ll just snap Daddy dearest’s neck before you can pull the trigger?”

Castiel hesitated. Those weren’t bluffs. Alastair was more than capable of killing both Bobby and John before Castiel could take him out. Dean would never forgive the angel for that. And it would prove to be difficult to explain to the police why they shot a man for no apparent reason in the neighbor’s front lawn. Slowly, the angel withdrew his empty hand from his pocket.

“Good choice. Although, I’m rather disappointed that we won’t be having some sort of final stand off. Now that would’ve been exciting.”

“As exciting as your encounter with a five year old that bested you?” Castiel asked. “I see you needed to trade in your host body in for one with two working eyes.”

Alastair sneered at him. “Make no mistake, when next I meet Dean Winchester, he will lose far more than an eye. I will take that brat somewhere real private and I will torture him in ways that none of you can even begin to imagine until he is begging me to let him tell me all his little secrets. I will cut him, slice him, burn him, tear the flesh from his bones, and perform unspeakable acts on his tiny body.”

“That’s my son you’re talking about.” John stepped forward menacingly.

“And what, pray tell, are you going to do about it Jonny-boy?”

“I will be the one to end you when the time comes.”

“Promises, promises. But I assure you that you and I will not need to come to blows. You are nothing to me. Less than nothing. You’re a man pretending to be a hunter. Not worth my time.” Alastair turned his attention to Bobby. “I must say that I don’t recognize you, but if you’re a friend of the family, you’ve picked the wrong family to befriend. You make yourself a problem of mine and you will be taken care of.” And then the demon turned his gaze back to Castiel. “But you. You who swooped in and saved Dean… just how did you do that? I didn’t even detect a magic aftertaste when you were gone.”

“Maybe you’re not as all powerful as you think you are.” Castiel informed him. “But I can tell you this. Stay away from Dean. Because John Winchester does not ‘pretend’ to hunt and he and his wife will not let you touch their child again. And this man is indeed a friend of the family. And a very good one at that. And, as for me, I can do far more than teleport without leaving a trace.”

Alastair suddenly appeared right in front of them. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

“I am telling you that you should be.”

There was a blur of movement behind Alastair and then Castiel saw John charging with the demon killing knife held in his hand. Castiel wondered what the man was doing since he’d already been told that the knife probably wouldn’t kill this particular demon. Alastair spun around and a moment later the knife was buried deep into his upper left arm, in the exact spot where Dean had been stabbed. Castiel watched as lightening seemed to jump from the wound. John pulled down on the knife, tearing the flesh open before yanking the weapon free. 

“How do you like it you son of a bitch!” The enraged father screamed. And Castiel understood. It wasn’t an attempt to kill the demon. It was revenge, pure and simple. 

Castiel decided that it was probably a good time to retreat. He grabbed both men and thought about Bobby’s house. Seconds later, they all stood in the living room, John still clutching the bloody knife. Bobby clasped him on the shoulder.

“Nice one, but you know that he could’ve skinned us all alive.”

“He hurt my son.”

“I know. Why do ya think I started off by sayin’ ‘nice one’?”

“What happened?” Mary wanted to know as she entered the room, Dean trailing behind her. The small hunter’s eyes widened as he noticed the weapon in his father’s hand.

“Castiel got the devil’s traps in place but before we could get to the store to pick up the things for the holy water, Alastair showed up.” John started to explain. 

Castiel didn’t fail to notice that what little color Dean had drained away0 at the mention of the demon’s name. “Did he… are you guys okay?” The boy’s voice was barely audible, but there was an unmistakable edge under it, as though, if he didn’t get the answer that he wanted, Dean would hunt Alastair down right that moment and somehow find a way to tear him limb from limb. He was small, hurt, and terrified, but still very much Dean. 

“We’re fine.” John reassured his son. “He didn’t touch us. Just stood there and gloated a bit and made with the threats.”

“But the knife…”

“I said that he didn’t touch us. Didn’t say anything about the other way around.”

Dean at first looked absolutely thrilled but then completely horrified. “Knife can’t kill him! Alastair could’ve killed you!” Castiel cringed at how rough and painful the child’s voice sounded.

“Your father knew that I could get us all out of there before we could be injured.” Castiel himself was annoyed at John’s impulsive actions with Alastair, but he understood them and also didn’t want Dean any more upset than he already was. 

Dean seemed to calm down a bit and nodded. He didn’t attempt to talk again and the angel wondered if he’d used up all his voice with his exclamation earlier. Once again, Castiel wished that he could simply lay his hands on his young friend and heal him. He loathed to see anyone suffer, but especially Dean. He sometimes wondered why someone as good and pure as Dean Winchester was made to live the life that he had. But those thoughts led to nothing but madness, so he shut down that way of thinking and turned back to the topic at hand.

John tossed the bloody knife to Bobby, who caught it by the handle, and picked up Dean. “So, Keys of Solomon are in place and the shopping trip and panic room work are postponed. What’s going on here?”

“I found the ingredients in Bobby’s kitchen to make a cake from scratch.” Mary informed them. “But we’ll have to order out for dinner.”

“Works for me. What about you, Castiel?”

Castiel had learned many moths ago not to remind the Winchesters that he did not require food. In these instances, he was expected to partake in the dinner just like everyone else. “I believe I was informed once that pizza is an appropriate party food.” He knew he’d said the right thing when Dean’s face broke out in a huge grin.

“Will you be alright to swallow it?” Mary asked her son.

Dean looked over at her from where his father still held him and nodded. Just then, Sam toddled into the room holding onto the walls. He still had yet to let go and walk on his own, but the others were certain that it was only a matter of time. Dean said that he was already ahead of his schedule from the original timeline. 

The baby looked up at the group. “Dee!”

“You know,” John laughed. “There are other people in the room too.”

“Not ta him, apparently.” Bobby commented.

“Dee! Dee!” Sam let go of the wall to clap his hands and ended up falling on his backside. Instead of crying, he burst out in giggles.

“Well, let’s get that pizza ordered and that cake made so that we can party, huh?” John questioned. 

Castiel was pleased that despite the events of earlier that day, the Winchesters were still doing their best to enjoy what was left of Sam’s first birthday. The angel looked at the family and thought to himself that perhaps they could all get through what was to come.


	45. Familiar Faces

Chapter Forty-Five: Familiar Faces

A third host body. A third! Never had Alastair had to trade in his meatsuit this many times due to injuries. Sure he could’ve waited for the wounds to heal, but ones created by iron, salt, holy water, or the demon killing items took longer to fix and he did not like to experience pain the same way he relished inflicting it. But still, switching hosts out of necessity was an insult. The Winchesters would suffer for this. And Alastair would enjoy every last second of it. 

But first he was going to have to find a way to get to them. The demon knew that he could no longer get onto their property. Even the mailbox was safely inside the protected area, so waiting for someone to come out to pick up their mail and jumping them was out of the question. He’d missed his chance and he only had himself to blame. He’d had that brat on a chain and should’ve just taken him and left. But no, he’d had to stay and try to get the answers out of the mother. And then he’d allowed the child to trick him. Him! It wouldn’t happen again. And when he laid his hands on that boy again, Dean Winchester would learn what real suffering was. He would get a taste of what true Hell was like. 

“You won’t be able to get in there.” A small voice spoke up.

Alastair looked down to see what appeared to be a young girl standing next to him. So, the situation seemed to be getting even bigger. “I know that, Lilith. But they can’t stay inside forever. John goes to work. Mary goes shopping. Dean will eventually go to school. There will be many opportunities for me to get my hands on them.” 

“And then what? Have Cas pull him out of your grasp again?”

Alastair was seething. If he wasn’t full aware of what Lilith was capable of, he’d have snapped at her. But he held his tongue. “I won’t let that happen again.”

“You can’t stop him. We don’t know how. Yet.”

“Yet? You have a plan?” Now his irritation was changing to curiosity.

“It’s come to my attention that the angels have been spying on the Winchesters.” Lilith began tossing her braided pigtails back and forth in an almost playful manner as she spoke in a singsong voice. “Seems they’re just as curious as we are. But they aren’t making any big moves. Just little ones. Move a piece here and there so they can study the family in action. I say we do the same. Once we know their weaknesses, we exploit them. And I promise you that Dean will be yours. After all, he is the Righteous Man, so you’ll get him both now and you’ll get his soul once he grows up.” 

“I can get you all the answers we need a lot quicker if I had that boy.”

“I doubt it. See, there is something very off about him. Dean is not a normal child. He is stubborn, determined, and has a strong spirit and we need to know what kind of tortures would work best. Because while Dean may not be normal, he is still just a human child. Even with the spells to keep him alive as long as possible, his body may give out too soon and then where will our plans be? And we also need to know more about his mysterious teleporting friend. Specifically what else he can do, any weaknesses he has, and how to stop him from popping in to rescue Dean again.”

Alastair had to grudgingly admit that she had a point. “Then can I at least return to my duties in Hell?”

“As you wish. I’ll keep an eye on Dean. After all, we are a better match age wise.” She laughed a nasty little laugh.

Alastair almost wished that he could stay to watch. Lilith was an artist almost as much as he was. And although she was insisting that they would take a back seat, he knew that she wouldn’t be able to resist getting her hands at least a little dirty.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean wasn’t sure what to expect when he appeared back inside his home. His dad, Cas, and Bobby had assured him that it was completely protected but he couldn’t help but be nervous. And just what the hell was that about? He was Dean freakin’ Winchester. He didn’t do nervous. The boy drew himself up to his full (admittedly not very impressive) height and walked through the living room as though nothing bad had ever happened in that house. He wasn’t a child and had acted like one long enough. 

“I want to see how the fountains and birdbath came out.” His mom commented. She was holding Sammy in her arms and walking towards the door.

“Well then, let’s all go out into the backyard.” His dad suggested.

And there went his courage. The backyard. The very place that Alastair had… nope not thinking about it. Dean took a deep breath and followed his parents to the back door. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t. Dean was a hunter and had been through Hell and back, so a swing set in his yard was not going to get the best of his nerves. But as the door swung open, Dean could vividly recall the feel of the chain wrapped around his neck, the metal biting his skin, his lungs completely deprived of oxygen. Still, he forced himself to step outside and into the grass. And when his eyes fell upon the swings, he let out a breath that he hadn’t even realized that he’d been holding. 

The swing set stood ready for use, all the chains gone and replaced by bright yellow nylon rope. Dean felt a smile come to his face as his dad placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Thought we could all use a bit of a change in the design before we used that thing again. And I had to go to the hardware store anyway, so I thought ‘why the hell not’.”

“Good thinking.” Dean praised. He still wasn’t quite ready to get on it, but with the chains replaced, maybe someday soon. And he had to admit that he loved his dad completely for thinking of changing out the chains for nylon ropes just to spare his son some mental discomfort. It was a gesture that Dean would never forget.

“The fountain is beautiful! And you set up a rock garden too? It looks lovely, John.”

Dean turned to see what him mom was talking about. He wasn’t an expert in home décor (and neither was his dad, so he knew that someone at the hardware store must’ve helped out) but even he knew that the yard was pretty cool looking. And since the fountain was blessed, they were safe too.

The small hunter left his parents and Sammy admiring the new decorations and started back inside with Cas close behind. Once in the house, Dean walked into the kitchen and helped himself to a can of cola. The longer he was home with nothing happening, the more relaxed he was feeling. He stepped up on the stepstool and from there sat up on the kitchen counter and snatched up an open bag of potato chips. Dean reached into the bag and was about to pop one into his mouth when there was a knock at the front door. He looked up at Cas. 

“Demons can’t even get past the front gate.” The angel reminded him.

“Good enough for me.” Dean commented, as he hopped off the counter. Still, he went to the backdoor and poked his head out. “We got company.” He wasn’t about to take any chances. If something was going to attack him, he wanted as much backup as possible. 

Dean heard his dad instruct his mom to stay with Sammy as the boy walked to the front of the house. Cas was only a step or two behind him. The small hunter placed his left hand on the door knob and his right into his pocket where his knife was kept. He was ready.

Dean opened the door and looked up, prepared for a confrontation, only to see the slightly suspicious face of a (much younger than he remembered) Missouri Mosley. He blinked up at her in surprise. Dean had always figured that one day he’d go to see her, but had never figured that she’d show up on his doorstep. Just what the hell was she doing here?

“What the hell are you… I mean, uh, can I help you?” Dean asked.

But Missouri was now just staring at him. Dean heard his dad come up behind them and the woman’s gaze never left the boy. He stared right back, feeling more than a little uncomfortable, as if he were naked in front of her. And he supposed he was, because he just knew that she could see everything.

“Oh, you poor child. What has happened to you?”

“Excuse me, who are you?” His dad asked.

“Are you this boy’s dad?”

“Yes, and you are?”

“If you’ve laid a hand on this sweet child…”

“No, it wasn’t him.” Dean cut her off. 

Missouri turned her complete attention back to him. She crouched down to be at level with him and reached out to lay her hand on his face. But she pulled back quickly, as if she’d been burned.

“What did this to you? How… how can someone so young be so broken? You can’t be just a boy? It’s not possible.”

“How does she…” Dean’s dad started to ask.

“She’s a psychic.” The young hunter replied. “She’s okay.”

“Oh. Well ma’am, to answer your question, my son has been through a lot recently and…”

“Don’t you dare feed me a pack of lies!’ Missouri scolded as she stood back up. “This child’s soul is torn to pieces in ways I’ve never seen. And you,” She pointed at Cas. “…whatever you are, may be doing a good job at hiding him, but I can see the damage. So, is anyone gonna tell me the truth?”

“You might wanna come on in and sit down for this, Missouri.” Dean invited, as he stepped aside.

“Dean…” His dad started to warn.

“Dad, we either tell her the truth, or you keep trying to lie to her and see how long it takes her to put her tiny little size four shoe up your…”

“I got it.” His dad cut him off.

“Boy, you got some mouth on you.” Missouri reprimanded. “And you’re the last one to be commenting on small size.”

“Yeah, but I’m still gonna grow.” Dean shot back. 

Missouri walked inside. “Now, how do you know who and what I am?”

“I know a lot of things, but that comes with the explanation that you get once you’re sitting down.” Dean informed her. He could feel her still staring at him. He knew that she was also curious about Cas, but to a psychic of her caliber, he was the most interesting thing in the room. He knew that she was probably not capable of really seeing his actual soul, but if she was seeing even a fraction of his true self crammed into the body of a five year old, then that had to be disconcerting. 

“Well, I can tell this is gonna be good.” Missouri commented before turning to Dean’s dad. “And you watch your language. No wonder your boy has a mouth on him!”

“I didn’t say anything!” His dad protested.

“You didn’t have to. Your thoughts are screaming it at me. And not very kindly, mind you.”

Dean laughed. It was nice not to be the only one getting it from this woman for once. 

Once they were all in the living room, Dean turned to his dad. “You can tell Mom that it’s safe to come in.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah.”

Once his entire family was gathered, Dean turned back to Missouri. To her credit, the psychic hadn’t asked any questions yet. She’d just continued to study him. It must’ve seemed strange to her that he was the one that everyone was listening to. 

“Okay, before I get started with my long and very strange story, I got a question of my own. Why are you here?”

“Are you serious? Your family made this entire place a beacon just screaming ‘go away’ to any dark creatures out there. It got me curious, and I had to know what was going on and if there was anything I had to be concerned about. And then a boy that has a soul that looks like it went through a meat grinder answers the door and I just have even more questions.”

Dean shrugged. “Fair enough. Introductions first. Everyone, this is Missouri Mosley, a really awesome psychic. Missouri, my name’s Dean Winchester. This is my dad, John, my mom, Mary, my brother, Sam, and this is Cas.” He took a deep breath, wondering how to begin. “Okay, this is gonna be hard to believe but since you know when people are feeding you crap, you’ll know I’m not lying. So here goes: when I was four years old my mom was killed by a demon. My dad saw her burning on the ceiling and went looking for answers. He actually ended up talking with you.”

“What?” Missouri asked.

“What?” John echoed.

“Yeah, I forgot to mention her name to you guys earlier.” Dean shrugged. “But let me finish. You told him about what’s really out there. He became a hunter. Dad taught me to hunt too and we traveled across the country saving people and killing every evil son of a bitch that we could. When Sammy was old enough he learned the truth too. Eventually, we grew up. And then I met you while I was trying to track down Dad, who’d gone off to kill the demon who’d killed Mom. But the demon eventually killed Dad too. And things went way downhill after that. Which is why my soul looks like it went through a meat grinder. Yours would too if you spent time in Hell. But Cas here got me out. He’s an angel, by the way.” Dean enjoyed the shocked look on Missouri’s face. Not too many times a person could completely surprise a psychic. “Anyway, when things went from really bad to really worse, Cas transferred my adult consciousness into my four year old body back in last November and I stopped all the crap in my life from happening by helping my parents to kill the demon before he could set all of it into motion.”

Missouri stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. “But your emotions… they read like a child’s. If what you say is true, then you’d be an adult.”

“Dean’s memories and his soul are that of an adult.” His mom answered. “But everything else is that of his actual physical age.”

“That must be confusing for all of you.”

“Understatement.” Dean muttered.

“And what happened to your neck.”

Dean touched the bruises left behind by Alastair’s attack. “There’s a reason that we’re protecting this place. The demons aren’t happy that we’re fighting back.”

She turned to Cas. “You’re an angel, boy. Smite them and get them to leave this child alone. ‘Cause you’re not going to tell me that the bad guys are stronger than the good guys.”

“They aren’t. But not all the good guys are good.” Cas answered. “Some of my brothers and sisters would see me destroyed for helping the Winchesters and then they would tear Dean down just as the demons would.”

“So he’s in like an angel witness protection program.” Dean finished, wincing at the fact that he had semi-quoted Gabriel. “That means there’s some powers he can’t use. So, no smiting. No healing. And no beating me at Pong.”

“I came close.” The angel insisted.

“Only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” Dean shot back. 

“So why are you telling me all this?” Missouri interrupted them.

“I told you. I met you already, in my original timeline. I know you can be trusted. I also know that it’s impossible to lie to you.” Dean shrugged. “Besides, if you can sort of see my soul, it’s only a matter of time before you start to piece stuff together and I’d rather have it come from me than have you come up with some half-assed theory.”

“Boy, you keep talking like that to me and your backside is gonna be just as bruised as your soul.” Missouri scolded.

“You know, I actually missed you.” Dean admitted with a grin. 

“A boy I never met missed me. This is definitely the strangest day I’ve ever had.” The woman shook her head. “Is there anything I can do for your family?” She looked around at all of them.

“Yeah.” Dean answered. “First, for your own safety as well as ours, don’t tell anyone what we told you. And I mean anyone.”

“Right, ‘cause I was going to publish it in tomorrows newspaper. I’m not stupid.”

“’Course not. But what we could use is maybe a heads up if you hear of anything in the area. You have connections and that whole psychic crap going on, so if you feel a disturbance in the Force, give us a call.”

“Boy, you’re ten kinds of strange.”

“But I’m eleven kinds of awesome.”

“You keep telling yourself that. But yeah, I’ll help.” She turned her attention to his parents. “And you take care of him. He’s not the adult he thinks he is.”

“Hey! Right here, and yes, I am!” Dean protested.

“Dean’s situation is very complicated, but we’re all learning about it together.” His father replied placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Good, because the next time I visit, I don’t want to see a mark on that boy, got it? And don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Dean heard his dad mutter.

“Now, I know that that wasn’t sarcasm…”

“Dad doesn’t even know what sarcasm is.” Dean defended with a grin.

“Uh huh.” She shook her head, before turning to his mom. “You have your work cut out for you.”

“Don’t I know it. It was nice meeting you, Missouri. And thank you for agreeing to help.”

“Your boy has been through enough. I’ll do what I can to ease his pain.”

“We appreciate it.” Dean watched as she shook his mom’s then his dad’s hands. 

Then she knelt down in front of him and gave him a hug. A slight shiver ran through her at the contact and he remembered how she’d pulled away before. When Dean stepped back, he looked up at her. 

“What’d you feel?”

“Pain. How do you live with all that?”

Dean shrugged. “What other choice do I have?”

“You take care of yourself. And watch your mouth.” She added with a smile.

“I wouldn’t be me if I did.”

Dean watched her leave. He knew they’d given her quite a shock today, and he felt kind of bad about it. While he’d enjoyed seeing her, he didn’t like the idea that he might’ve just put her in danger by opening her eyes to the truth. But maybe having another member in Team Winchester would turn out to be a good thing.


	46. Future Plans and Nighttime Hunts

Chapter Forty-Six: Future Plans and Nighttime Hunts 

Summer had passed quickly for the Winchester family. Between the backyard barbeques, trips to the beach, little league games (yep, Dean’s dad had convinced him to play again that year and with his hunter training he’d been the best damned player out there), and the supernatural hunts, they had kept busy. And no demons had popped up since the beginning of May. So, as August came to a close, things were looking up. Well, except for the fact that Dean had still not found a way to talk himself out of going to kindergarten and school was starting in just two days. 

Seriously, you’d think that he had the winning argument just by pointing out that he was in his thirties and could read not only English but Latin, so what the hell did he need to go and learn his ABCs for? But he’d been hit with several counters including that they had to keep up appearances, he needed a diploma, he needed to set a good example for Sam (and damn them both for bringing that up), and many other excuses that Dean had eventually just tuned out. But in the end, he’d lost. Yet he still hadn’t given up. Which is why he turned his most pleading gaze up to his mom as he sat in the deserted playground a few hours after sunset.

“C’mon, Mom. It makes absolutely no sense and you know it. I’m way too old for kindergarten.”

“That’s not what your birth certificate says.”

“Screw the birth certificate. You know what I mean.”

“Language, Dean.”

“Sorry. But look, that’s another issue. I’m me. And I won’t be able to not be me in school and you’re gonna get tired of getting calls from the principle.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out. But if you don’t go to school, people will question it. And we don’t want any trouble. Besides, you need to get a diploma if you want to go to college some day.”

Dean snorted.

“What’s so funny about that?”

Dean shrugged. “Not going.”

“Why not?”

“Sammy’s thing. Not mine.”

“You’re not interested? What are you going to be when you grow up?” At his look, she quickly amended her statement “Physically, I mean.”

“A hunter.”

“And…”

“No and. Just a hunter.”

His mom sighed. “You need a career too, Dean.”

“Doesn’t work that way, Mom.”

“Yes, it does. Your dad has a job. And there’s absolutely no reason that you can’t go to college and get a job outside of hunting.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to sigh. “I already told you what life was like when I grew up the first time. Do you remember me mentioning a nine to five?”

“It doesn’t have to be like that this time around. You’re incredibly smart, Dean. It would be a waste for you to give up on any dreams of a future based on what you went through the first time. If you go through school, graduate, and go to college, you can get any job you want and hunt on the side. Your father does it, Bobby has his salvage yard, the Harvelles have their own business. It seems that you and your alternate family are the only ones that didn’t have a real life outside hunting.”

“There were other full time hunters.” Dean replied defensively.

“And how sane were they?” His mom asked.

Dean chewed on his bottom lip a moment before replying. “They were about as pathetically screwed up as me.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She sat up on the picnic table next to him and wrapped her arm around him. “I just want you to be happy, Dean. And I know that saving people makes you happy, but I think you want more than just that. And while you may not remember when you were four years old very well, it wasn’t that long ago to me, and I remember a little boy that dreamed of being a firefighter. Now, that dream may have changed, but I’m sure you have interests outside of hunting. And you’ll have quite a few years before you graduate to figure out what they are. And then, whatever happens with all this demons and angels and end of the world stuff, you are going to go and pursue those dreams too, Dean. But, first you have to start in kindergarten.”

“Have you ever heard of homeschooling?”

“Not happening, Dean. I don’t know what the laws are like in your time, but right now, I’d need to get tested and our home would need to be evaluated and it might draw unwanted attention. Besides, don’t you want to set a good example for your little brother?”

Damn. There was that argument again. “Fine, I’ll go. But I won’t like it. And you’ll have to deal with all the phone calls from the school.”

“Well, then you’ll just have to deal with being grounded all the time.”

“Hey, you can’t ground me! I’m pretty much the same age as you! Besides…” his argument was cut off by a beeping sound coming from his mom’s shoulder bag. It was the walkie-talkie she had in there. His dad was signaling, which could only mean one thing. “Show time.”

“I’ll see you soon, sweetie.” She kissed his forehead and walked off.

Dean jumped off the table and shoved his hands into his pockets. He wandered over to the merry-go-round and stood up on it with one foot, while holding onto the metal bar. He pushed off with his left foot, spinning the blue and silver ride around, trying to look like an innocent child having fun in a playground after dark. A perfect target for the nasty creature that had been snatching kids up from this area over the past week. 

This hadn’t been one of original timeline John Winchester’s hunts, but Bobby had called asking for a favor because the only hunter that had been in the area had died months ago in a pickup truck when Michael smote the crap out of him. So, with three kids missing and more sure to disappear, the Winchesters got to work. Dean, his mom and Cas had handled most of the research and had narrowed down the suspects to only a handful of monsters. Dean had never really realized it before but there were a lot of creatures that preyed on children. He really didn’t get it. Most of them were strong enough to easily overpower a full grown man, so what the hell were they doing picking on little kids? But then again, a lot of full grown humans liked to eat veal, right? At that thought, Dean vowed to never to eat veal again. 

They’d gotten their best lead when a tabloid had published an artists’ drawing of the supposed attacker along with the story of how ‘Spring Heeled Jack’ was still alive and killing children. That meant the monster in question was no doubt a grawlton, since hunters believed them to be the truth behind that particular myth. They were nasty, rotten smelling creatures with two sets of knees, one bending forwards one backwards, that could jump amazing heights and loved to kidnap children and eventually eat them. The good news was that for some reason grawltons never started to eat their captives until they were finished collecting them, and at only three children, this monster was far from finished. So there was still a chance for the Winchesters to save the missing kids. 

Dean hummed quietly, hoping that Cas got back soon. It was the angel’s job to find the kids and get them to safety. Cas had asked why they didn’t simply set up an ambush there for when the creature got back, but when it got returned to its lair it would most likely be holding a child and that would not end well. But they also couldn’t risk leaving the kids there. If their attack on the grawlton went south and it escaped, the creature might just decide to cut its loses and eat what it managed to collect before skipping town. 

As the merry-go-round spun, Dean pushed off on the ground one last time and then pulled both feet onto the ride. It was actually kind of fun. But he didn’t let it distract him from his job. He was the bait, sure, but he was also a hunter and he was going to make sure that the monster didn’t sneak up on him. Over the sound of the wind whipping past his ears, the boy heard soft footsteps approaching and the light breeze carried the scent of rot. Dean wrinkled his nose and tried not to gag. These things smelled gross. Dean dropped his left leg off the metal ride and dragged it on the ground lightly to slow the merry-go-round. The young hunter didn’t let it stop, though. He wanted to appear as if he was still playing. 

Even though he was expecting the attack, Dean was still surprised when the monster suddenly dropped down on the merry-go-round in front of him. The boy got a good look at the thing that was responsible for the recent child abductions. The parts of its grayish skin that were visible (which was most of it’s body as it was only wearing a pair of torn, dirty jeans) were peeling off and it had long talon-like claws at the end of its fingers. Its eyes were red, and its grotesquely large mouth was filled with two rows of sharp yellow teeth. 

“You need to see a dermatologist and a dentist, dude.” Dean informed it, before launching himself off the playground ride. He crawled underneath it and grabbed the airgun that he had stashed there earlier that evening. His hand had just gotten a hold of it when he felt something sharp tear into the skin of his ankle. Dean was pulled out from under the merry-go-round with one sharp jerk. 

The small hunter flipped himself over onto his back to get a clear shot at the monstrosity, but the thing batted the weapon from his hands. Damned but the grawlton was strong. And it now perceived Dean not only as a victim but as a possible threat. It raised its clawed hand high and started to bring it down in a brutal strike when a shot rang out. Unfortunately, the monster must’ve heard something before Dean had because it moved quickly and the bullet only skimmed its head rather than pierce its brain like was needed to kill it. The grawlton howled in pain and anger. 

When it leapt off of Dean, the boy was on his feet in a second, ignoring the slight pain from the cuts on his ankle. He grabbed his weapon and looked around for the creature. With the way it could jump, the monster could be anywhere. And now that its attack on Dean was over and they had failed to kill it, the Winchesters had to move on to their backup plan. 

They had decided that if this scenario happened, they would spread out, each searching a third of the playground in an attempt to kill the grawlton before it could flee. There was no sign of it on the slides, the swings, or the monkey bars. That was Dean’s area to cover and he knew better than to leave it and check on his parents without being called. They had to stick to the plan. If the grawlton got out of the park, they might lose their only chance to catch it and then many more children would die. 

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Clear.”

“Clear.” His dad responded.

Dean felt his heart sink. Maybe they were too late already. But when his mom didn’t give the all-clear, he became nervous. If she wasn’t signaling that could only mean that she had it in her sights but couldn’t say anything without giving away her position. Or it could mean that it had killed her… no. Not going there. She was a kick ass hunter and wasn’t about to let some random fugly, stinky piece of crap monster take her out. Still, Dean silently moved closer to her position.

He’d just crouched down behind the bushes at the edge of the area they had designated as his, when he heard a crashing sound followed by his mom’s surprised cry. Holding his airgun at the ready, Dean rushed out of his hiding spot and ran towards where the sounds had come from, praying that he wouldn’t be too late.


	47. A Job Finished, A Journey Begun

Chapter Forty-Seven: A Job Finished, A Journey Begun 

Mary was disappointed that her shot had not killed the grawlton, yet she was immensely relieved that the monster had leapt off of her son. The thing was much faster than she had expected and had been about to deliver what could have been a crippling, if not deadly, blow to Dean by the time she had managed to aim and fire. She had not been a fan of using her boy as bait in the first place, and had only gone along with the plan when Dean had pointed out that it was better him than waiting for the monster to attack an unsuspecting and defenseless child. 

Of course, now that things had gone sideways, they had to hope that the creature would stay in the area and not try to escape and run back to its lair. So she tried to push back any lingering concerns over Dean (not easy for a mother) and concentrate on tracking the grawlton. Mary listened for any sounds, looked for any movement, and took a deep breath to see if there was any rotten scent in the area. Nothing. Wait. No. There it was. A nasty odor coming from… above?

Without further warning, a heavy weight dropped down on top of her knocking the hunter to the ground. Mary let out a cry of surprise and pain as her back and her elbows hit the gravel hard. She had no time to recover, as the creature started to try and tear her apart with its long claws. Her body fell completely flat as she used her arms to defend her face and torso, rather than to prop herself up. Mary felt the sharp talons rip into her forearms and couldn’t bite back her scream of pain.

“Hey, leave her alone, asshole! Aren’t I more your size?” Dean. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to the vulgar language being said in his childish little voice. And while she was relieved that the grawlton paused its attack on her, the fear for her son’s safety now returned. Especially when its weight disappeared from her body. Because that meant that Dean was its target once more.

Despite the pain she was in. Mary struggled into a sitting position to see what was going on. Dean was standing on top of a picnic table, airgun held down at his side and a defiant look plastered on his young face. His gaze was directed to the trees above, so Mary assumed that that was where the grawlton had leapt to. She made a move to grab her weapon that was lying on the ground where it had fallen when she’d been ambushed, but her arms protested the motion. She glanced at the damage that the monster’s claws had caused and realized that it was worse that she had thought. Each arm had cuts running from elbow to three inches above her wrists. Had they been any deeper or gone any further down, she’d have now been in danger of bleeding out. As it was, Mary was unsure if she’d be able to accurately fire her gun with her arms shaking from the amount of pain they were in. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to risk accidently shooting her own son if she couldn’t hold the weapon steady. 

Mary looked back over just in time to see the creature drop down in front of Dean. The boy threw himself off the table and rolled under it as a shot rang out. John must also be nearby. But again, the thing moved too fast and the bullet merely skimmed the side of its face. Mary had never battled a grawlton before and could never have imagined that they were this fast. It jumped off the table, probably planning on dragging Dean out again. Mary knew that if it got its hands on the boy again, there was a good chance that it would just kill him and leap away, carrying his corpse with it as a snack for later. She couldn’t let that happen. The hunter got to her feet, still unsure of how she was going to stop the monster with two torn up and bleeding arms, but unwilling not to try. 

Then she heard the sound of the airgun going off. But, with his weapon he’d have to shoot it through the eye, and there was no way that Dean could make that shot from under the picnic table. Then Mary saw what he was doing. Dean was laying on his belly, gun held at the ready, his aim perfect as he shot once, twice, three times, then four. Each of his shots took out one of the grawlton’s four kneecaps, the very feature that allowed the monster to jump such amazing heights and move at impressive speeds. The creature went down with an inhuman screech. Only when it was on its back, did Dean crawl out from under the table and approach it. 

“Not so fast now, are you bitch?”

The grawlton snarled and took a swipe at him with its clawed hand. The small boy hopped easily out of its reach.

“Move back, son. I’ll take it from here.” John stepped up holding his gun.

Dean shook his head. “I got it, Dad. Take care of mom, please.”

John looked between her and their son before finally nodding. “Okay. I guess I do have more first aid experience.” It was his way of letting the argument go without really letting Dean boss him around. 

Dean positioned himself to the side of the creature and aimed right into its eye and pulled the trigger. The grawlton spasmed and then it was over. Dean looked down at the thing with an expression of disgust written all over his features. He muttered something in a low voice that Mary only caught part of, but she was pretty sure that he was blaming himself for her getting hurt on the hunt. They were definitely going to have to talk about this when they got back home. 

Mary gasped as something brushed her right arm. Looking up, she saw John hovering over her. She’d been so focused on their son that she hadn’t realized that her husband had gotten out the first aid kit and had already gotten to work. 

“Some of these might need to be sewn up when we get back. The rest should be okay with just butterfly bandages and gauze.”

“Great, so I’ll have to suffer through long sleeves when we go anywhere.”

“Nah.” John shook his head. “These look like animal scratches. We can say a dog jumped you or something. It’ll be fine.”

“Well, that problem’s solved.” She growled out through clenched teeth as her husband wrapped up the wounds. 

“What’s the next problem?” He asked.

“What to do with Stinky’s rotting corpse.” Dean replied as he joined them. 

“We can’t just leave it here. We don’t have shovels to bury it and there’s too much risk of causing fire or drawing attention to burn it.” Mary continued.

John shrugged. “Cas can dispose of it when he gets back.”

Mary smiled. Her husband had taken to calling the angel ‘Cas’ most of the time instead of Castiel. “If he gets here before the police. But with all the gunfire going off in a playground, someone was bound to have called them.”

“So, does that mean that I don’t have time to play on the slides?” Dean asked with a devilish grin on his face. 

John laughed. “You’re something else, buddy, you know that?”

“Yep.” Dean replied somewhat distractedly, as he looked around.

“What is it?” Mary questioned.

“I thought I heard something.” Dean looked over to the left and squinted.

Mary followed his gaze. She didn’t see anything at first, but then the hunter made out what seemed to be the figure of a small child, just slightly bigger than her son.

“Hello?” She called out. “Who’s there? Don’t be scared.”

The child stepped forwards. It was a little girl with long dark hair. She glanced at John and Mary but then turned her attention to Dean. Mary hoped that the girl had just arrived and hadn’t seen or heard any of the commotion of just a few minutes before. There were already three children out there that were going to be traumatized for life from their encounter with the grawlton, it would be nice if this girl could be spared the nightmares.

“What are you doing out here?” John asked in a gentle voice. “Where are your parents?”

“I’m lost.” The girl replied. She was still looking at Dean and was now smiling. Mary would wonder if the little girl had a crush. She looked down at Dean and saw that he looked really uncomfortable. Just then, sirens could be heard in the distance. 

“The police will be here soon.” Mary assured her. “They’ll be able to find your Mommy and Daddy.”

“We should go.” Dean spoke up. 

Mary knew that he was right, getting arrested was not in their plans, but she was hesitant to leave with the body of the creature still lying there and a small girl just a few feet away. What if she saw it? Or worse yet, what of a human threat found her before the cops got there. Monsters weren’t the only bad things out there. 

“We can leave now.” 

All three Winchesters turned to see Castiel standing near the body of the grawlton.

“What should we do about her?” Mary asked, nodding in the girl’s direction.

“About who?” The angel question, cocking his head to the side.

Mary turned to where the girl was standing and… correction, where the girl had stood. She must’ve taken off when Castiel had appeared. Maybe she’d seen him pop out of nowhere and gotten spooked. Mary hoped that she found her way home or that the police found her first. But for now, she had her own family to worry about. They had only a few moments to finish up and get out of there unless they wanted to have to answer questions they’d have no easy answers for.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean sighed as he climbed out of the backseat of the Impala and closed the backdoor. That, at least, had been one battle that he had won. Because Dean Winchester was not riding to school on a freakin’ yellow kiddie bus. So yeah, he’d won that argument, but here he was, trudging across the schoolyard, on his way into Hell.

It was weird, though. He didn’t know what to expect. Dean had never actually been to kindergarten. When September had rolled around that first year, his dad had refused to send him to school. He’d been afraid that something would happen to the boy and, most importantly, he’d needed someone to take care of Sammy. So Dean had not been allowed to start school until the following year. Then it had just been a matter of starting him in a town where kindergarten had been optional rather than mandatory and saying that since his mom had died Dean had not been emotionally ready for school until then. Sure, it had set Dean back initially, but the boy had managed to catch up before too long. Of course, things like that were not going to be issues this time around. The biggest problems he’d face now was how to blend in and how to deal with his extreme boredom.

“This is gonna suck, Cas.” He muttered to his friend, even though he knew that the angel couldn’t respond. Cas was in full stealth mode, tailing Dean and completely invisible to everyone. This was the only way that the Winchesters could be sure that Dean would be safe while away from home. It would be nice though if they could talk with each other. That would help entertain him a bit. Oh well, at least he’d be content knowing that he wasn’t going to be the only one being bored to death for the next thirteen years.

As he approached the front of the school, Dean adjusted his backpack on his shoulder. It wasn’t a lameass cartoon one like most of the ones he was seeing, but a dark gray camouflage pattern. He was dressed in jeans, his little league jersey over a black t-shirt, and a pair of brand new black and grey sneakers. His mom had given him a trim the night before, so his hair stuck up in fresh, cool-looking spikes. The only thing the ruined his image was the severely dorky yellow name tag that identified him as ‘Dean’ in class ‘K-1’. A young blonde woman wearing a bright pink shirt and a floral skirt and holding a clipboard walked up to him.

“Are you here for kindergarten?”

“No, I’m a high schooler.” Dean replied with a roll of his eyes. Damn. And he’d promised his mom that he wouldn’t do that. 

Luckily, the woman just smiled at him. “Well, aren’t you cute? What’s your name?”

Cute? “Dean Winchester.”

“Okay, Dean. Well, I’m lining up the kindergarteners over here. So, why don’t you join the class and we’ll be going inside in just a moment.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.”

“Great!” She replied, with way too much enthusiasm. Dean thought about suggesting that she cut back on the caffeine, but then reconsidered. No need to be labeled a smart-ass trouble maker before he’d even set foot in the building.

Once the last two kids joined him in line, they were all led into a brightly colored classroom. 

“Hello, children!” A dark haired woman wearing a hideous power-suit greeted. “I’m Mrs. Bradley and I’ll be your teacher for the year. This is my helper, Miss Irving.” She gestures to Miss Too-Much-Caffeine. “Please everyone take a seat at the tables and sit with your feet in front of you and your hands folded on top of the table.” Dean briefly considered the possibility that he had somehow been recaptured by Alastair and this was some new version of Hell. “Now, in this classroom we all treat each other with respect. That’s a big word that means we don’t talk unless we are asked to, and we don’t say mean things, and we listen to the adults, and we act nice to everyone. So, if we can all do this and we can all be friends, I know that we will all learn a lot and have a super fun year.”

Nope. This wasn’t Hell. Because right about now, Dean was pretty sure that he was missing Hell.


	48. Behavior Issues

Chapter Forty-Eight: Behavior Issues 

Dean had tried. He really had put a lot of effort into behaving himself in school and hadn’t gotten in any real trouble for the first five weeks. Sure he’d been spoken to about the occasional word that had slipped from his mouth (nothing really bad either, just words like dumb, stupid, sucks, and things like that) and he’d been talked to about how he never seemed to play with the other kids, but he’d held his sarcastic comments to himself and was always polite. He did his work, kept quiet, and stayed out of trouble. It wasn’t easy since the teacher for some reason had been targeting him since day one (and she wasn’t possessed; he’d checked) and her assistant was driving him crazy with her sugary sweet comments, but he was managing. That was, until the sixth week of school.

Dean sat at the table in between Mark and Traci with his head down on his arms. He was completely exhausted since he had stayed up late the night before helping his parents out with a salt and burn. He’d begged them not to leave him behind, not wanting something as lame as kindergarten to interrupt his job as a hunter, but now he was kind of regretting that decision. His little five and a half year old body seemed to need a bit more rest than his adult body had. Oh well, in an hour or so they’d have nap time and maybe he’d actually sleep today. Cas would just have to join him in dreamland and they could escape the boredom that was his life six hours a day, five days a week. But until then, he’d just have to keep his head down and pray for the best.

“Dean! We are learning now. Not sleeping. Please pick up your head. This is not showing your teacher respect.”

Damn Mrs. Bradley and her ‘respect’ crap. But Dean lifted his head and favored her with the best smile he could muster. “Sorry, Mrs. Bradley.”

“Well, you can make up for it by paying attention. Remember class, that is a big word that means eyes up front and ears listening. So, this week, we are starting to learn the letter ‘F’.” Dean sighed. They were doing one letter per week, learning the sound and how to write it, sound it out, words that started with it, and doing all sorts of childish projects revolving around it. It was sheer torture. “Look at the worksheet I passed out and you can all see what the letter looks like. That is an ‘F’. Does anyone know a word that begins with the letter ‘F’?” 

Okay, so it was completely juvenile, but Dean couldn’t help snickering. And it hadn’t made it any easier that both adults had been staring straight at him while the question was asked. And now he was stuck. He knew by the looks that he was getting that he had to come up with an answer, but he could not say what was on his mind unless he wanted a trip to the principal’s office. If they didn’t like words like ‘stupid’, swears like the dreaded f-word would get him in deep crap. So he quickly said the next word that popped into his head.

“Freak.” Well, that probably wouldn’t be too much better in Mrs. Language-Patrol’s book.

“Dean! What have we said about those kinds of words?”

“But it does start with the letter ‘F’.” He argued in his most innocent voice.

“Yes, but we don’t say hurtful words in this classroom. If you called another person that word it could make them cry. And then you’d feel bad. So, when it is playtime, you will sit at your desk with your head down for the first five minutes.”

Dean didn’t point out that he had tried to do just that a few minutes ago and had gotten in trouble for it. “Fine.” He replied. “Which is another word that starts with ‘F’.” He muttered.

“You’re right, but I don’t like you’re attitude very much.” Mrs. Bradley scolded. “Now class, Dean says the word ‘fine’ starts with ‘F’, so what sound does the letter make?”

Most of the kids enthusiastically made the correct sound and the teacher congratulated them. Dean tuned everything out as he turned his attention to the worksheet in front of him. There were large dark lines on it with big ‘F’s written in light dotted print. Dean knew that the class was going to be instructed later to used their pencils to trace over the letters to learn to write them correctly. By the end of the week, they would be expected to be able to write the letters without the benefit of tracing. Since these worksheets were merely practice and did not have to be turned in, Dean flipped his over and began writing, using his arm as cover so that the other kids couldn’t see what he was doing. God, he was bored. 

“Dean! Pay attention!”

The boy flipped the paper over quickly before realizing his mistake. He’d just called even more attention to what he had been doing. 

“Sorry.” He apologized, hoping that she’d leave well enough alone.

“This isn’t art time, Dean. What were you drawing?”

“Uh, a smile face. But I’ll stop now. I’ll pay attention. I’m sorry.”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t make it better, Dean. You’ve done nothing but cause trouble today. Now give me your paper and go sit in the corner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean got to his feet and folded his paper with his writing on the inside, hoping that Mrs. Bradley wouldn’t open it up. He handed it to her and started making his way to the chair that was sitting at the far end of the room.

“Dean’s in trouble! He’s a bad boy!” Frank sang out. He was a total ass.

“Frank, there is another chair waiting for you if you don’t stop right now.” Miss Irving informed him. Of course, coming from the always cheerful teaching assistant, the threat didn’t sound very intimidating.

Dean was almost to the chair when he heard the rustling of paper. Mrs. Bradley was opening his worksheet. Oh man, he was totally screwed. His parents were going to kill him. 

“I’m dead, Cas.” He whispered. “I screwed up.”

There was an audible gasp from the teacher. “Dean? Did you… did you write this?”

“Uh… yeah.” He’d been the only one with access to the pencil and the worksheet so it wasn’t like he could lie about it. 

“What is it?” Miss Irving asked. “Did he write out the letter?”

Dean didn’t turn to face them, but heard footsteps as the younger woman walked over to the classroom teacher. She let out a gasp as well and then they whispered amongst themselves.

“Class, Miss Irving is going to stay here and continue the lesson with you. Dean, please come with me to the principal’s office.”

Dean hung his head in defeat as he turned around. Some of his classmates let out a chorus of ‘oooohhhhh’s as he passed and Frank snickered at him. Dean suppressed the urge to flip him off. 

The young hunter trudged down the hall, following Mrs. Bradley towards the front offices. He felt the presence of Cas at his right side, but knew that the angel could do nothing to help him out of this mess that he had created. What the hell had he been thinking? 

When they reached the office, he was instructed to sit on the bench. Dean did as he was told, knowing that his mom was being called to come to the school. He swung his feet back and forth, biting at his bottom lip. He should’ve been more careful. But no, not him. Dean Winchester was apparently as reckless as everyone always said he was. Because what other reason was there for him to have been writing out freakin’ plans for demon battles during kindergarten class? Luckily, he’d been using shorthand, so it wasn’t like the teachers were going to figure out what he was talking about. And it was a couple of weeks before Halloween so he had a perfect excuse for using words such as ‘demons’ and ‘Hell’, but how to explain how a five year old was writing sentences? Oh yeah, this meeting was going to be fun.

Dean was left alone on the bench until his mom arrived at the school. She wasn’t holding Sammy, which meant that one of their neighbors must’ve gone to the house to watch him, since Cas was here at school with Dean. It was perfectly safe for the toddler due to the fact that nothing supernatural could set foot in the Winchester’s home. But it was still something that the family hesitated to do and Dean knew that it was yet another strike against him. The principal, Mr. Kalman, and Mrs. Bradley both came out to greet Dean’s mom as she entered the building. They exchanged pleasantries and when they went to enter the inner office, Dean hopped down off the bench.

“Oh on, not you, dear.” Mrs. Bradley interceded. “We need to speak with your mommy alone first.” 

Dean shot a pleading look to his mom. He really didn’t want to get left behind out here. He had to be able to defend himself somehow. His mom gave him a skeptical look and he tried to convey his innocence back to her. After all, it wasn’t like he had done anything too terrible.

His mom relented. “Why can’t he come in with us?”

“Well typically, the adults discuss the situation and come up with a solution before informing the child of the outcome of the meeting.”

“Did my son do something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that, Mrs. Winchester. I mean, there are minor behavioral issues, but they are just symptoms of the true reason I called you in.”

His mom cocked her head to the side in an almost Cas-like way. “Then if he’s not in trouble, I would prefer to have him with me. I promise he’ll behave himself.” She stared right at him as she said the last part.

Mr. Kalman nodded. “Since this will directly affect the young man in question, and I would very much like to hear what he has to say, I believe that we can make an exception in this case.”

Dean gave them all a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Once in the office, he sat down in a chair next to his mom and across the desk from the principal. His teacher was standing off to the side. 

“We apologize for calling you in here in the middle of the day, but the situation is important. I’ll let Mrs. Bradley explain.”

“Mrs. Winchester, your son has shown himself to be an excellent student in my class. He finishes his assignments correctly and very quickly. He does show minor behavior problems such as fidgeting, not interacting with other students, seemingly not paying attention in class, and consistent use of bad language.”

“Bad language?” His mom gave him a look.

“Yeah, words like ‘dumb’, ‘stupid’, ‘ugly’, and today he used the word ‘freak’.”

Dean almost laughed as his mother tried to hide the relief from her expression. He knew that she’d been expecting to hear that much worse had come from his mouth. She’d warned him not to teach the other students his colorful vocabulary. 

“I’ll talk to him about it when we get home.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Mrs. Bradley responded. “Now, I’ve been keeping an eye on him since the beginning of the year to try and determine where these issues may have come from. Problems at home, learning disabilities, and many other factors contribute to these sorts of behavior disorders. But today, I think I got my answer.”

Doubt it. Dean thought.

“What happened?” His mom asked.

“Your son was writing this during class.” The teacher handed the worksheet over.

Dean watched his mom’s face as she read his short sentences.

Questions:

Will Hell gate still open?

Can someone else break first seal?

Does either side have plan B?

Plan:

Get rid of all main demons.

Stay protected.

Find out wh

His mom closed her eyes and let out a sigh. She was obviously trying to figure out how to explain why her five year old was writing battle plans against demons. She was given a little extra time to think up an excuse when Mrs. Bradley started talking again.

“Now, overlooking the subject matter for the moment, for which I do have to say that Dean is much too young to be watching Halloween horror movies, you’re son is far more advanced than any other child in the class. This completely explains his behavior. Dean is bored. Kindergarten just isn’t keeping him intellectually stimulated. We are learning the alphabet and letter sounds and your son can already read and write. Did you know that he could do this?”

“Yeah. Dean has always been very intelligent.”

“And you didn’t mention it in his kindergarten interview?”

Dean’s mom shrugged. “It never came up.”

Mrs. Bradley let out a groan. “I push and push for the school system to put more emphasis on the children’s educational needs and it never happens. We get the regular children side by side with those who barely know their own names and really need an extra year in preschool before starting here. And then we get kids like your Dean. He’s sitting through class everyday, learning nothing, and completely bored. And it’s causing him to act out and get into trouble. Do you know if he knows his numbers and any addition and subtraction as well?”

“Dean?” His mom prompted.

“Yes ma’am, I know some of it.”

The teacher nodded. “I thought as much. What I would like to do, with your permission, is to have Dean tested. Now, kindergarten is a mandatory grade and emotionally, Dean wouldn’t be ready for first grade anyway. But if he tests high enough, and I believe he will, I can bring first grade assignments into the class for him to complete while the other students are doing their work. This should challenge him and hopefully help solve his minor behavioral issues. And, if he scores high enough on his assignments and passes an end of the year test, he will be eligible to skip first grade and start in second grade next year.”

Him and his mom exchanged looks. He’d called attention to himself in a way that he wasn’t supposed to have, but it was turning out far better than it could’ve.

“I’ll give permission to go ahead with the testing and we’ll take it from there.” His mother replied, placing an arm around Dean. He looked up at her and sent her an apologetic look. He really had tried not to cause these kinds of problems. 

“Very good. We can set up the testing for tomorrow afternoon. You can bring Dean home if you want, since after this morning’s events it’s unlikely that he’ll be able to focus much for the rest of the day.” Then Mrs. Bradley turned her attention to Dean. “Now Dean, the results of the test will be in by the end of the week, so any changes in your class-work won’t start until next week. But, I expect you to still try to be on your best behavior until then. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And I know that Halloween is coming up, and you’ve obviously seen some grown-up movies, but those are not appropriate topics for school. There will be no more writing about it, no talking about it, and your costume for the party will meet the school’s standards. Understood?”

“Yes, Mrs. Bradley. I’m sorry to cause problems today. I know I shouldn’t write that stuff, but my dad was watching the movie and I couldn’t sleep, so I snuck out to the living room and watched it too.”

The teacher smiled. “There’s a reason parents watch those kinds of movies after you’re in bed, young man. It’s because you are too young to be watching them.”

“I know that now.” Dean shrugged.

“I guess we’ll have to be a bit more careful.” His mom admitted.

“It’s hard to deal with gifted children.” Mrs. Bradley warned. “They are known to be very sneaky and sometimes try to act more grown up than they actually are.”

“That’s Dean.” His mom agreed.

Dean rolled his eyes. 

After everyone shook hands and exchanged goodbyes, Dean left with his mom. The meeting had turned out better than he had hoped. Now he just had to go home and hope that he survived the lectures that he’d receive there.


	49. A Hellish Encounter

Chapter Forty-Nine: A Hellish Encounter 

The sounds around them were almost deafening but John resisted the urge to clamp both hands over his ears. He needed to keep his weight off of the small body under him or he would cause further damage to his already injured son. So, he instead just tried to concentrate on remaining on his elbows and knees and sheltering Dean from the objects being hurled around the room. All the while he was cursing his alternate timeline self. The notes in the journal had made it sound like a poltergeist hunt, and just two days before Halloween, but John never would’ve gotten his family involved if his other self had bothered to correct the notes afterwards and state that it had in fact been a _demon_ and not a vengeful apparition. So, was killing your alternate self considered to be suicide or homicide? 

They’d taken every precaution against the demons entering their property and never let Dean go anywhere without Cas following him. Ever since May second, they’d been able to keep the hellspawn away from their eldest son, and now, thanks to bad intel, here they were, delivering the boy right into the demons’ hands. And since they were expecting poltergeist, they hadn’t come prepared for a demon battle. Worst yet, Bobby was on a hunt of his own, so Cas had dropped them off at this house and went back to watch over Sam. The angel wasn’t due back to pick them up for at least another two hours. 

Something heavy, possibly a desk, crashed into the wall and John felt wooden debris rain down on him. Then the room went completely still. This demon seemed to like theatrics. He had shut all the doors, threw the Winchesters around a bit, and then completely trashed the room. Why he was here in the first place, terrorizing the family that lived here, John had yet to figure out, but at the moment that was not important. Getting Dean out of here in one piece was his only goal.

“Well, well, well. So this is the now-infamous Winchester family. I’m not impressed. Can’t quite figure out what’s so special about two inept hunters and their little brat.”

John didn’t say a word. He was too busy trying to figure out their next move. Mary was across the room, pinned down under what was left of the far wall. He could see her trying to shift the ruble off of her body without drawing attention to herself. John would need her to perform the exorcism if it came to that, since he hadn’t gotten around to memorizing it yet. He hoped she still remembered one after all these years. Dean, who knew the rituals forwards and back, was out cold and wouldn’t be able to help them unless he woke up soon. Which John prayed he would. He’d only gotten a brief glimpse at his son’s head wound before he’d thrown himself over the small body to protect it from the flying objects in the room, but the amount of blood he’d seen had scared him. 

Without warning, an invisible force ripped the father up and off of his child and threw him across the room. John rolled as he hit the floor to avoid any serious injury. His ankle twisted and his already damaged ribs protested the rough treatment but he figured that he’d gotten off lucky. The hunter stood up and turned to face the demon possessed man that seemed intent on harming his family. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“There’s a big reward for capture of the Winchesters. Especially that one.” The blonde haired man looked down at Dean.

“What? A pat on the head and a dog biscuit? Maybe a belly rub?” John knew that he was channeling his son with his remarks, but he had to keep the demon distracted. Mary was almost free. Maybe she could get into the other room and lay a trap for the demon if only John could keep the creature from noticing her movements. 

“Demons all the way up at the top are interested in your son, and _I_ am going to be the one to bring him in. That will give me status far beyond my years.” 

“So, you get a corner office in Hell. I’m so impressed. Really.”

“You think _you_ can mock _me_? You are nothing.”

John chuckled. “You know, the last demon that told me that ended up with the demon killing knife cutting into his flesh. And did I mention that the demon in question was none other than Alastair himself?”

The demon seemed a bit unnerved. “You don’t have that weapon.”

“You sure about that?” 

“If you had that or your precious Colt, you’d have used it already.” The demon insisted. “But you can prove me wrong if you want.”

John tried to move forwards as the possessed man walked towards Dean, but was thrown back into the wall. He was unable to do anything as the demon reached down and touched the blood that covered the right side of the boy’s face. He felt as though he’d throw up when the demon then licked the sticky red substance off of its finger.

“Delicious. It’s no wonder Alastair wants this one. Little kids taste so good.”

“Leave him alone you sick bastard.” John growled out. 

The demon laughed. It was a terrible sound. “And what are you going to do to stop me, John? Yell empty threats? You see, there is nothing you can do. And if you’re waiting for the last member of your party to show up and rescue you, don’t count on it. I know he transported you here somehow and that he’ll most likely be back. By that time, you and the missus will be dead and I’ll be ready for him. I’ll slit his throat and drag your boy to Alastair.”

“I won’t let you.”

“Did you miss the part of the story where you’re going to be too dead to stop me?”

“No, just ignored it as irrelevant.”

The demon smirked and walked over to him. John tried not to look relieved that the monster was now away from Dean. “You sure talk tough for a mere human.”

“Well, from what I understand, you’re less than human.” John shot back. “You’re a soul that was mangled into the pathetic mess that you now are. You can’t even exist up here without inhabiting one of us ‘mere humans’.”

The demon snarled at him. “Shut up!” It used its powers to press John up into the wall with almost bone crunching force. The hunter let out a small groan. “I am far stronger than you! See!”

“Yeah, you know a few parlor tricks. Not impressed.” John gasped out.

The pressure increased. John both felt and heard at least one of his ribs snap and he let out a cry.

“Impressed yet?” The demon asked.

“Nope.”

The demon released its hold on him and John crumpled to the floor. He coughed a bit and was dismayed to see a small amount of blood splatter onto the ground. He hoped that it was from biting the inside of his mouth and not from his rib puncturing a lung, but as his breath refused to come out in any way but in small gasps, he figured that he’d be visiting the ER if he made it out of here alive.

“What will it take to impress you?” The demon leaned over him. “Maybe if I reach in your mouth and pull your heart out of your body through your throat? Or if I cut off your limbs one at a time until you bleed out? What do you think? Do either of those sound impressive enough to the great and powerful John Winchester?”

“No!” 

Both John and the demon were startled by the childish cry. They turned to see Dean lying on the ground, still unconscious, but thrashing about amongst the debris with a look of pure terror on his young face. 

“Well, looks like your son answered for you.” The demon laughed. “And without even being awake.” It approached Dean and knelt down. “Awwww, is the little boy having a bad dream?”

“Leave him alone.” John, now released from the demon’s hold, ran at the monster and pulled Dean’s switchblade knife from his pocket. He’d taken the weapon earlier, just in case. But he didn’t get close enough to use it before the demon flung him back into the wall. The hunter lay, stunned and injured, on the ground. 

John watched helplessly as the demon shook Dean violently. “Hey brat, wakey wakey.” 

Dean, much to his father’s surprise, sat straight up with a gasp. John had figured that he would be out for quite a while more and when he’d seen the boy thrashing about, he’d realized that he was trapped once more in his memories of Hell. The hunter had assumed that they’d be unable to wake him until Cas arrived, but maybe when the demon had shaken him, it had caused the boy pain and snapped him out of his nightmare. In any event, Dean was now looking around the room with his left eye wide open and a wild look on his face. His right eye was swollen shut and hidden under a mask of red. The boy’s head whipped around again and then he let out a heart wrenching cry. His whole body was tense and while he was looking everywhere, it was as though he was seeing nothing. John suddenly realized that while Dean was physically awake, his mind had not come back from Hell. 

The small, injured child leapt to his feet, barely able to stand but still he assumed a fighting stance. The demon in front of him laughed.

“Oh, tough little kid is going to take on a demon all by himself.”

“Dean?”

John looked over to see Mary standing in the doorway to the room. He’d lost track of her in the last few minutes as he’d purposefully kept his attention off of her in the hopes that the demon would forget about her. He hoped that she’d gotten a trap set up for the possessed man. But when his wife went to step into the room, John shook his head at her. The hunter had no clue what was about to happen but the sick feeling in his stomach told him that it wasn’t going to be good.

When the demon had spoken, it had captured Dean’s attention. The child turned his damaged and bloody face to the creature and stared right at it. For the first time since waking up, the boy seemed to actually be seeing something. And the look on his face was terrifying. Even the demon seemed a bit uncomfortable. 

“Stand down, boy. You’ll never be able to take me by yourself.”

Dean didn’t respond at first, but reached down, never taking his eye off of the demon in front of him, and snatched up a piece of broken wood and held it in front of him. His arm was trembling but his jaw was clenched and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was ready for the fight. 

“So, Alastair’s too busy to guard me himself today? Big mistake.” The voice that came out of Dean’s mouth was low and gravely, not at all like the voice John was used to hearing from his five year old son. It barely sounded human. 

The demon actually took a step away from the boy and seemed so disconcerted that it didn’t even think to use its powers against the child. Dean, however, didn’t show any hesitation. The boy launched himself at the demon and plowed right into it. Caught off guard, the demon stepped backwards, stumbled, and fell, landing with Dean on its chest. The tiny hunter was on it in an instant, slashing with his makeshift wooden weapon. The broken piece of some sort of furniture cut into the demon’s face, spraying blood all over the place. Dean fought with a ferocity and rage that was horrifying and had John rooted to the spot in complete and utter shock. Not that he was completely sure what he would do if he could find the will to move. The demon had to be stopped, sure, but doing it like this seemed… wrong. He looked over at Mary and saw all of his thoughts mirrored in her eyes. Reluctantly, he turned his gaze back to Dean.

The demon was screeching and was throwing things all over using its powers but it could no longer see since its face was a bloody ruined mess. John could assume that shock was the only reason that it had yet to flee its host. But that changed as soon as Mary began reciting what could only be an exorcism in Latin. With a scream, black smoke rushed out of the man’s mouth and left the room. The now empty body fell to the floor, quite dead. But still, Dean kept up his crazed attack. 

“Dean!” John yelled. “Dean, stop. It’s over.”

Dean paused his cutting, breathing heavy, sobbing breaths. His entire body was trembling now as blood continued to pour down his face from his head wound. The boy looked down at the body he was sitting on and, apparently placated by what he saw, slowly got to his feet. Dean looked around the room, again with that strange far away look. John wondered what his son was actually seeing because there was no doubt in his mind that Dean was still not really here. The child didn’t seem to be focused on anything.

“Dean.” John kept his voice soft and calm. “Dean, it’s me, your dad. You’re okay, now.”

Dean laughed. It wasn’t a laugh like John had ever heard come from Dean. Not his happy laugh, nor his sarcastic one, but a scary, hopeless, and bitter one. “Dad again. Right. Try being a bit more original next time, asshole.” Again he spoke in that awful, barely human voice.

“Son, please.”

“I’m not your son! Your kind killed my family! You took everything from me!”

“Dean…”

“Shut up!” Dean screeched. “I won’t break! The answer is no! No! No! No!” Dean, still holding the makeshift weapon was now grabbing at his head and was shaking it back and forth as if in denial about something. Tears were streaming down his bloody face. “No! No! No! No!” 

When the boy started to pound his tiny fists against his already damaged skull, John had to try and snap him out of it before he hurt himself further. “Dean! Please son, please stop this. We love you, Dean. Please.”

“No! You’re not him! Stop saying you are! Leave me alone!” With that cry, and no other warning, Dean ran and launched himself at his father.


	50. Post Traumatic Hell Disorder

Chapter Fifty: Post Traumatic Hell Disorder

Something was wrong. Castiel didn’t know how he knew it, but he knew that something had gone horribly wrong and that Dean needed his help. But he couldn’t bring Sam with him if there was going to be danger and he couldn’t leave the toddler behind. The Winchester house was protected from demons, but with their luck, a kidnapper would pick tonight to break in and steal the child while Castiel was away. On the other hand, the angel was certain that Dean needed him, and Castiel would not let his friend down.

The angel appeared in Sam’s room and touched the child on the head to assure that he would not wake. Then he picked up the sleeping bundle and thought about his destination. A second later, he was standing on the doorstep of the house he wanted to be at. Castiel raised his hand and knocked loudly. He waited but a few seconds and repeated the action.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side. He wondered why exactly the woman thought he was going to take his shirt off if she didn’t open her door right away. The porch light flicked on and Castiel heard the locks click as they released. Then the door swung open and he was greeted by a sleepy and rather irate looking Missouri dressed in purple silk pajamas and a matching robe.

“I need your help.” Castiel stated.

“Well, I’m assuming you weren’t here to proposition me, being an angel and all. What do you need?”

“Dean needs my help, but I can’t go to him unless someone comes back to the Winchesters’ house to watch Sam.”

“So now I’m a babysitter?”

“Almost six months ago you asked the family if there was anything you could do to assist them. I am giving you an assignment now.”

“Well, don’t I feel special.”

“Please, Dean needs help. I need to go to him now.”

“Let me get dressed.” Missouri requested.

“No.” Castiel shook his head. “There isn’t time. Besides, I doubt Sam will care what you are dressed in.”

Missouri smiled. “I suppose you’re right.”

Castiel took her hand and transported her back to the house. As soon as they appeared in Sam’s room, he handed the toddler to her and then left the Winchesters’ home once more. 

When the angel appeared in the house where he had left the Winchesters earlier that night, he froze in shock. It didn’t look like the aftermath of a battle with a poltergeist, but rather a warzone. A body lay among piles of rubble, debris, and broken furniture. The man’s face had been torn to shreds, blood covered everything and small, red footprints led away from the carnage. 

Castiel was about to call out for Dean when he heard sounds coming from down the hall. A woman, most likely Mary, was crying, something was slamming repeatedly against a door or a wall, and there was another sound; screaming and howling that was almost inhuman. Castiel ran towards the commotion.

Near the end of the hall, John was leaning against a door, holding it shut as Mary stood off to the side, hands over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Something was trying to get out of the room and the hunter was doing his best to not allow that to happen. 

“What is going on?” Castiel demanded. “And where is Dean?”

“I… I had to lock him in the bathroom.” John gasped out. His voice sounded shaky and weak. Castiel noticed that the man was injured. He was hunched over and clutching his ribs with one arm protectively, blood was leaking from the corner of his mouth and there were small, but deep finger nail marks on his arms. 

“Dean is in there? Those noises… that is Dean?” Castiel had a hard time believing that any human could make the sounds that were coming from behind the door, let alone a five year old child.

“It… it’s not Dean.” Mary sobbed out.

“There’s something very wrong with him.” John explained. “He was knocked out and was dreaming and when the demon woke him up…”

“A demon?” Too late, Castiel realized that he had smelled sulfur upon entering the house. 

“Yeah, but it’s gone now. Dean, he… he woke up but he’s not right. He… he’s not here. Not really. He slaughtered the demon and attacked me and I got him locked in the bathroom. I tried not to hurt him but… oh god, what are we going to do?”

“Stay calm.” Castiel ordered. 

The angel walked over to the bathroom door and placed his hand against the wood. He closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. He couldn’t get inside Dean’s head when the hunter was awake, but if what John said was true, then Dean wasn’t really awake. So maybe this would work and he could see what was wrong with his friend. Castiel was suddenly hit with a rush of images and feelings that he wished he could forget. And more importantly, he wished that Dean could forget them.

Dean was locked in a room, but he was not seeing a small bathroom in a suburban home. To Dean, he was trapped in a dark room where the walls were splattered with blood and gore and the floor was burning embers. The boy had wrecked the room trying to make his escape, and was holding what he thought was some sort of weapon but was just the towel rack that had once hung on the wall. Dean was sobbing, and screaming at the same time, filled with unimaginable pain, grief and anguish. Castiel touched his mind briefly and then pulled back.

“You’re right. Dean’s mind is not here. He fully believes that he is still in Hell. If I am not mistaken, judging by the condition of his mind and soul, at the moment he believes that he’s been there for almost thirty years.”

“Thirty years?” Mary gasped.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded. “He is close to breaking. And he now believes that he has a chance to escape and that you are demons preventing that escape.”

“But souls can’t escape Hell.” John protested.

“Usually not.” The angel agreed. “Even demons have difficulty getting out unless summoned or sent out by a high ranking demon. But, there have been cases of souls slipping out of where they are being held if they are kept in cells. You have to understand the sheer number of human souls kept in Hell. They are not looked after all the time, so it would be possible. However, they would just wander around forever in the pit until recaptured by demons unless they happened upon an open hellgate, which is not terribly likely. But that was not the case with your son. He was not left alone. Ever. They could take no chance of his escape. Also, they wanted him broken, so he was tortured and tormented constantly, unlike any other soul down there. The opportunity he now believes he has is something he was never given and he will not stand down for anything.”

“What do we do?” John asked.

“I may be able to push back the memories of Hell if I can lay my hand on him, but that would mean letting him out. So, you will have to open the door and I want you both to step back. No matter what happens, do not get involved until he starts to come back to himself. Unless he recognizes you, he will not hesitate to kill you.”

Both of Dean’s parents nodded, fear and sorrow etched in their faces. Castiel had a feeling that this incident was going to harm the family’s interactions for a while to come, but that was not something that he could think about at the moment. For now, he had to focus on Dean. 

“Let him out.” Castiel instructed as he stepped to the side.

As soon as the door was opened, a small, blood coated blur came flying out of the bathroom. Castiel’s right arm shot out and grabbed the boy across his chest. But before he could lay his other hand on Dean’s head, the small hunter twisted in his arms and started clawing at his face. The angel felt the child’s tiny finger nails breaking his skin, but he ignored it as he tried to wrestle his friend without harming him. Dean was making loud distressed noises that were nowhere near human sounding as he fought for all he was worth. Castiel understood what he was doing. Dean knew that he was so very close to breaking and felt that this was his last chance to save himself and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way. With a quick shove, the boy somehow wrenched himself away from Castiel and fell backwards, breathing heavily. The angel saw how severely injured his friend was and wondered how he was even still conscious at this point. But he was not only still up but Dean was still fighting. The boy held up the towel bar and swung it as hard as he could. The angel noticed too late and took the full impact of the metal bar on left side of his head. Castiel felt the skin split and the bone crack with the force of the blow and wondered how a small, injured child had so much strength. The fear and desperation caused by his mental state was pushing the small hunter far past his body’s normal limits. But when Dean tried to swing it a second time, Castiel caught the weapon and pulled it from his hands, causing the child to stumble and fall. Dean went down to his hands and knees with a wordless cry. 

Castiel watched as Dean tried to get to his feet and failed. With a choking sob, the boy tried to crawl away. He made it into the living room before the angel reached out and grabbed him. 

“No!” Dean shrieked. 

Before he could renew his efforts to fight, Castiel placed his right hand on the boy’s forehead. He was hit with a rush of images even more horrifying than what he’d seen earlier. It took everything he had not to let go of Dean and step back to escape the visions he was bombarded with. But he had to help Dean before it was too late. Every moment his friend spent back in Hell was tearing the boy’s sanity apart and as strong as Dean was, there was only so much he’d be able to take. 

So Castiel took a hold of the Hell memories that his friend was trapped in and started to push at them. He started with the images of demons, hoping that it would allow Dean to recognize him, John, and Mary for who they really were. Dean was trying to fight him and get away still, but Castiel began to speak to him in a calm and soothing voice.

“It’s alright, Dean. You are no longer in Hell. I pulled you out long ago. You’re safe now, Dean. It’s alright.”

“No!” Dean gasped out, but it no longer sounded as defiant. It was more like he was unsure whether or not to believe what he was hearing.

“Yes, Dean. You’re safe.”

Dean looked up at him and for the first time since Castiel arrived, the boy was actually seeing him. “C… Cas?”

“Yes, Dean. It’s me.”

The boy looked around the room and shuddered. “Why… why am I in Hell again?” 

“You’re not. It’s not real, Dean. Try to stay calm. I’ll help you.” Castiel kept pushing and watched as slowly Hell began to seep away from the room. 

After a few minutes, Dean was finally able to see the room for what it really was. The angel had shifted them so that the boy was sitting in his lap and he held the trembling child tightly. Castiel was aware that John and Mary were both watching from the hall but neither had made any move to approach them. Dean looked around the room with his one functioning eye and when his gaze fell upon the mutilated body in the center, he froze. Castiel could see him putting together what had happened from what he knew and what he’d thought he’d experienced.

“Did… did I…”

“He was possessed.” Castiel answered.

“But I…”

“Yes.”

Dean nodded, but then his trembling increased and he doubled over and threw up on the floor. Castiel held him so that he wouldn’t collapse into it. When he seemed to have a little bit more control again, the traumatized hunter continued searching the room. When he saw his parents, his eye filled with tears. Castiel knew that he realized that he’d attacked them as well. The angel turned to face them, hoping that they’d come over to reassure Dean, but the boy’s parents seemed to be in shock. They stood staring at him with that mix of fear and sadness still painted on their faces. Dean saw it too and looked away. He put his head down on Castiel’s chest and closed his eyes.

“No, Dean. You can’t go to sleep. I know that you are tired and injured but if you fall asleep now, you will find yourself right back in Hell.”

That was enough to jar Dean back out of his drowsy state. “Okay, I’m awake.”

“I’ll bring you all to a hospital to get your injuries cared for. When we get home, I’ll help you get some dreamless rest.”

Dean nodded carefully. “Sounds good.” His voice sounded hollow.

Castiel looked back to John. “Which hospital shall I bring you to?”

“Probably one close to home. We don’t want to be seen anywhere near this area.”

Mary looked to her husband. “What are we going to tell them about our injuries?”

John looked them all over for a moment. “Most of the injuries can be explained by impact, and it’s been an unseasonably warm weekend, so I think the best cover story would be that we went camping and got injured in a hiking accident.” 

Castiel was pleased to see that they were coming out of their shock enough to be able to think. He stood up, still holding Dean in his arms. He was unsure of what injuries his friend might have, and didn’t want to put him down. The angel was also pretty sure that the boy could use the comfort after reliving some of his most horrific Hell memories. 

“After I drop you all off at the hospital, I will return here and clean up. Then I’ll pick you up and bring you home.”

“Where’s Sammy?” Dean asked.

Count on Dean to ask about his brother no matter what. “Missouri is watching him at the house. He’ll be fine until we get back.”

Dean nodded against his chest. His trembling hadn’t gotten any better and Castiel wondered if it was from mental or physical shock. Perhaps it was a combination of both. John and Mary walked over to them and Castiel took their hands with his free hand. With but a thought they were outside the hospital’s emergency room. 

“I cannot go in with you.” Castiel informed them. He was bleeding from the head wound that Dean had given him with the towel bar and had small finger nail marks all down his face but they were already healing. Going into the ER like that would probably cause an unnecessary (and hard to explain) scene. “One of you has to take Dean.”

“I can walk.” Dean offered weakly.

Castiel hoped that his parents wouldn’t be so frightened of their own son that they would take him up on that offer. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand their feelings, but he could tell that Dean sensed their fear as well and was hurt by it. 

“I’ll take him.” Mary offered, a bit hesitantly. “John shouldn’t be carrying anything until we know how bad his ribs are. I just hurt my left wrist and the back of my head. But I think I can still carry him.”

But before she could reach for him, Dean squirmed out of Castiel’s arms and dropped down to the ground. His legs gave out and he ended up sprawled on the pavement. The boy scrambled to his feet.

“It’s okay, I got it. You don’t gotta touch me.”

There was an awkward silence that was interrupted when the doors to the emergency room opened. The family turned as a doctor walked out holding a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. He froze as he took in the small group. 

“Can I help you?”

John stepped forwards. “We were hiking and the trail was a bit too steep. The rocks slid out from under us. My son hit his head and lost consciousness for a while. He’s bleeding badly. I broke some ribs and possibly punctured a lung.”

The doctor stared at John for a second and then crammed the cigarette and lighter back into his pocket. “Stay there and don’t move. I’ll get a couple stretchers out here for you and your son.” With that, he turned and ran back inside.

Castiel crouched down in front of Dean. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

The boy nodded. “Okay, Cas.” He winced as he reached out and lightly traced the fingernail marks he’d left on the angel’s face. “Sorry.”

“It was not your fault, Dean.” Castiel informed him, not only for Dean’s benefit but for his parents’ as well. Then, the angel vanished.


	51. What Only My Eyes See

Chapter Fifty-One: What Only My Eyes See

Dean limped into class with his head down and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He felt like crap and really didn’t want to be here today but it was better than spending another awkward day at home. The previous day had been almost unbearable and when his mom had offered to call him out of school today, he’d quickly declined. His dad wasn’t going in to work today, the doctor had ordered him to take a week of rest, and Dean had almost panicked at the thought of spending yet another day in the same house as his parents. They were scared of him. With good reason, sure, but that didn’t make it any easier for Dean to handle.

So, here he was, making his way into the kindergarten class with his right ankle wrapped up tightly. It had been badly sprained during the demon fight. His face was a complete mess. His right eye was still swollen almost completely shut and he had a line of stitches running from his hairline down past his eye and coming to a stop just below his cheekbone. The doctor had told his parents that there was a chance that it could leave a scar. Dean couldn’t care less. So, he’d started picking up scars a bit earlier this time around. Big freakin’ deal. What he did worry about was the fact that his parents now hated him. 

“Dean! What happened?” 

The boy looked up to see Mrs. Bradley hurrying over to him. Ever since he’d taken, and aced, the tests that she’d had him do, the two of them had gotten along so much better. Once she’d been able to label him as a genius, she’d felt like she understood him better and since he got to sit by himself and do his own work rather than have to pretend to pay attention during class, he was no longer as annoyed by her. Sure, school was still boring, but he could deal. 

Dean looked up at his teacher. “Hiking accident.”

“You should’ve stayed home and rested.”

“It looks worse than it is.” Dean lied.

“I can tell that it hurts you.” Mrs. Bradley countered. “You came in anyway because you didn’t want to miss the Halloween party, didn’t you?”

“Guilty.” Dean responded, glad that she’d given him a convenient out. 

“Why didn’t you wear a costume?”

Dean thought quickly. “The mask hurt my face. And the rest of the costume looked stupid…” He winced at his use of one of the words she hated. “Uh, I mean, it didn’t look good without the mask.”

The teacher smiled and didn’t scold him on his slip up. “Well, go take your seat. And if you need to rest at any point, just excuse yourself and go lay down on your mat.” She gestured to where the kids took their naps.

“Thanks, ma’am.” Dean responded. He knew that the other kids were watching him closely. He’d been the talk of the class ever since the day he’d been escorted to the office and now his injuries weren’t helping.

Dean had almost made it to his chair when a kid dressed up in a dorky He-Man costume stepped in front of him. He knew that it was Frank, even though the boy’s face was hidden behind a plastic half-mask held on by an elastic strap. 

Frank snickered. “What are you supposed to be, Deanie? Frankenstein?”

“Frankenstein was the scientist.”

“What?”

“I’m assuming you were trying to make some lame joke about the fact that I have stitches in my head and face, so you were comparing me to the monster that Dr. Frankenstein created.”

“Yeah well, that’s what you look like.” Frank shot back.

Dean looked at the other boy’s costume. He was wearing a weird plastic jumpsuit thing with drawn-on muscles and the plastic half mask with long blonde hair. “And what are you supposed to be? Your mother?”

Frank pulled his arm back to punch Dean and the young hunter got ready to easily catch the other boy’s fist when he noticed that Mrs. Bradley heading their way. So, using all the control he could muster, Dean fought his instincts and let Frank’s not-very-hard punch land square on his already injured face as he rolled with the blow.

“Frank!” The teacher shouted.

The other boy jumped. “Mrs. Bradley, he…”

“What do you think you’re doing? You do not hit another student! Ever! Especially not a student who is already hurt. Now, you grab your bag and go with Ms. Irving down to the principal’s office!”

“But Dean said…”

“I don’t want to hear it. I saw you stand in his way. Whatever happened here, _you_ are the one who started it and _you_ are the one who punched Dean.” Once Frank had walked off, the teacher turned her attention to Dean, who was rubbing at his sore face. “Are you okay, Dean?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you need to go see the nurse?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Alright. You may take your seat.”

Dean sat down and closed his eyes. Maybe he should’ve stayed home. Sure he was feared and possibly hated back at his house, but he was pretty sure that no one was going to physically harm him there. With a sigh, the young hunter put his aching head down on his desk, certain that he wouldn’t get in trouble for it today. He tried hard to block out any depressing thoughts. He’d come to school to try and escape from all that, at least for a little while. And when he got home, he’d go up to his room and hide out there all alone for most of the rest of the day. But then would come dinner time and he’d be forced to sit at the dining room table and see the residual fear in his parent’s eyes whenever they looked at him and the fading fingernail marks he’d left on his father’s arms. Luckily, he’d somehow avoided doing any real damage to either of his parents, but he knew that in his less than sane state, he’d been capable of killing them just as brutally as he had that demon possessed man. Nope, not thinking about that. 

He was jarred from his thoughts by the crackling sound of the speakers as the morning announcements came on. The secretary let them all know that today was October thirty-first, and that the Halloween parade around the school would take place just before lunch. Hot lunch today was fish sticks, French fries, and corn. The alternate meal was baked ziti and Italian bread. Friday’s third grade class trip was being post-poned due to predictions of rain. Finally, when all the announcements were over, the students were instructed to stand for the pledge of allegiance. Dean got to his feet and placed his right hand over his heart.

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. And to the republic for which it stands; one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” Dean repeated it by heart, while the other kids struggled with the words, since they were still learning it. He’d had many years of repeating the words over and over already, so it took no effort to say. 

But as he was talking, the boy happened to look over at Mrs. Bradley who smiled back at him as her eyes flashed pure black. Dean jumped, as his own eyes widened. The teacher looked at him with a concerned look that did not coincide with the fact that she had to be possessed. But then blood began to run down the chalkboard and Dean realized what was happening. Mrs. Bradley wasn’t possessed. He was hallucinating. Again. 

It had been happening since he’d been brought into the ER that night, but Dean refused to mention it to his parents. No need to scare them any further than they were already. They didn’t need to be walking around thinking that he could snap again at any given moment. Dean had thought about telling Cas, but was afraid that the angel might insist on informing his parents ‘for his own good’. So, the small hunter just kept his mouth shut and learned how to tell what was real from what wasn’t and how to deal with the crap that wasn’t. It’s not like this was the first time he’d had to deal with leftover Hell visions. 

When the pledge was over, Dean sat back down and waited for the teacher to announce their lesson for the day. After that, he’d be dismissed to go to the desk in the back to work on his assignments. Dean heard a low growling noise behind him and tried his best to ignore it. There was nothing there. Animals weren’t allowed in school. Besides, no one else was reacting, so it meant that only he was hearing anything. Of course, if it was a hellhound, then it would make sense that only he would hear it, wouldn’t it? No. Because there was no hellhound. 

“Okay class, today we’ll be making pumpkin masks out of paper plates first. After that, we’ll work on our letter of the week before the Halloween parade. Then we’ll have lunch. Our party will be after lunch.”

All the kids let out a cheer and clapped their hands. Dean tried hard not to groan. Paper plate masks. Awesome. Just what he wanted to spend his morning doing. With a sigh, the young hunter grabbed the white plate that was placed down in front of him. When the boxes of crayons were set out, Dean waited for all the other kids to help themselves before reaching out and snatching up a dark orange one. He tore the rest of the paper from it and turned it on its side, rubbing the wax object over the plate evenly. The boy was studiously ignoring the sounds of screaming in the background, knowing that it was all just hallucinations. This was by far the worse it had been since Cas had pushed the Hell memories back, and Dean figured it was because he felt a bit exposed now that he’d left the security of his well-protected home. But if he could just make it through today, maybe things would start to get better. Because there was no way he’d let it get worse. He wouldn’t crack. He wouldn’t.

Dean tossed the orange crayon back and grabbed a black one to draw the face. He barely paid any attention to what he was doing and was soon cutting out the shapes with a pair of dull safety scissors. He cut out a stem from green construction paper and glued it on and was about to fasten on the elastic string when he sensed someone standing behind him. He looked up and saw Mrs. Bradley standing there looking down at him.

“Dean, what did we talk about a few weeks ago? About things being appropriate for this class?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Your mask.”

“I’m not wearing one.” Dean was confused.

“The pumpkin mask you just made, Dean.”

Dean looked back at the paper plate mask he’d just made and almost recoiled from it. The orange he’d used was dark, and he’d pushed down so hard on the crayon when he’d colored it in that it had come out looking almost blood red. The eyes were small slits as were the nose holes, but the mouth was a wide open maw filled with sharp pointed teeth. It was hideous. 

“Sorry, I’ll… I’ll put it in my bag”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Dean?”

“Not really.” He answered truthfully. “But I will be.”

“You sure you don’t need to go home?”

He looked up into her once again pure black eyes. “I’m sure.”

By the time lunch had rolled around, Dean felt as though he was getting used to Hell leaking into his kindergarten class. It was nothing like what he’d experienced that night, when he’d been convinced that he was back in the pit, but there was almost always just one or two small things just slightly out of place. Someone with the wrong colored eyes. Hellhounds growling and snarling. Chains with sharp hooks hanging from the ceiling. Blood dripping down the walls. The black board catching on fire. Screams ringing out from nowhere. Dean felt like his sanity was hanging on by a thread and it didn’t help that his head was pounding and the cut on his face was burning. The boy bit into his fish stick and watched as blood dripped out onto his French fries, covering them like ketchup. He worked hard to swallow the food but his stomach was having none of it. Dean spit the mouthful of partially chewed processed fish into his napkin and placed it on his tray. He closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten. When he opened them, everything looked like it should. But he didn’t dare try to eat any more. It wasn’t like he had much of an appetite anyway. 

The Halloween party was uneventful. Kids ate cupcakes and cookies, got goodie bags, bobbed for apples, had a costume contest, did lame dances to equally lame songs, and listened to the teacher read a ‘scary’ story. When the final bell rang, Dean slowly got up and started to pack up his bag. He’d made it through the last half and hour or so with no hallucinations at all and was feeling like he was getting a handle on things. 

But now his stomach was in knots again because he wasn’t ready to go back home. The tension in his house was so thick it was unbearable and Dean didn’t want to face it just yet. He was tempted to ask Cas to transport him somewhere to help him unwind a bit but he knew that that would cause his parent to worry and he couldn’t do that to them. On the other hand, maybe they’d be relieved if their freak son disappeared for good. Dean prayed that that wasn’t the case.

“If you don’t feel any better tomorrow, do yourself a favor and stay home Dean.” Mrs. Bradley recommended.

“I’ll take that under advisement.” Dean responded with a smirk.

She gave him an odd look, probably unused to sentences like that coming from five year olds, genius status or not. 

Dean grabbed his backpack and walked out of the classroom. His ankle was still hurting him a bit, but he was coping even with the low pain threshold that came with this tiny body. Dean was glad that his parents had decided against taking Sammy out trick-or-treating tonight. They’d decided that he was too young to get much out of it and it was probably best to wait until the following year. He’d have gone along with them if they were going, but he was pleased that he’d be able to stay in that night. Maybe he’d just plead sickness tonight and spend the evening in bed. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

“Are you okay, Dean?” 

Dean turned his head to see a blonde girl just a hair taller than himself walking next to him. She was in his class and sat across the table and to the left of him. 

Dean shrugged. “Just got hurt a little. I’ll be fine, Liz.”

Elizabeth smiled shyly at him. “You remember my name?”

“Sure. You remember mine, right?”

“Yeah. Well, Happy Halloween, Dean.”

“Happy Halloween.”

She smiled at him again and then hurried off to join the line of kids that were getting on bus 3-A. Dean continued on his way to the front of the school to where his mom would be waiting to pick him up. He kept his head down as he trudged down the hall, well aware of how cruel some of the other kids could be if they got a look at his injured face and not in the mood to put up with it. 

When Dean stepped out into the school yard, he saw his mom standing amongst the crowd of parents that came to pick up their children. Older kids were allowed to go beyond the gates and get into the cars, but kindergarteners and first graders weren’t able to leave school grounds without a parent or guardian present. Dean doubted that an invisible guardian angel would count. 

The boy dragged his feet all the way over to his mother and stood there waiting for her to notice him rather than greeting her like he usually did. It only took a few seconds, since she was obviously keeping an eye out for him.

“Ready to go, Dean?”

Dean nodded.

She placed her hand on his backpack, after a brief hesitation that no one but Dean probably even detected, and led him over to her car. After the back door was opened, the small hunter tossed his pack onto the backseat and climbed in after it. 

To say that the ride home was awkward would be the very definition of the word ‘understatement’. Neither mother or son made an attempt at conversation and Dean spent the entire trip staring out the window trying to ignore the over whelming emotions building up in him. Once they were away from the school, Cas appeared in the front seat like he did every day. Dean felt alone in the back, since Sammy must’ve stayed home with their dad that day. 

When they got home, Dean let himself out of the car almost before his mom had completely stopped it. He ignored the growling hellhound that followed him to the front door and went straight to his room without even greeting his dad. The boy closed the door behind him, threw himself down on his bed, and sobbed out all of his grief and pain into his pillow.

After a while, when he had no more strength or energy left to cry, Dean rolled over and grabbed the book off of his nightstand and started to read. Funny that he’d be reading Stephan King’s ‘The Stand’ to escape the horrors of his life, but not even that demented writer could imagine the crap that Dean had had to live through. The boy smiled as he thought about the stir it would cause if his kindergarten teacher knew what kind of stuff he read at home. Not exactly “See Spot Run”.

The boy was aware when Cas entered his room. The angel had been an almost constant companion the last couple of days. Dean looked up as his friend approached the bed holding out an icepack in one hand.

“You mentioned that using this still felt good for your eye.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean sat up and went to take it, but the angel sat on the boy’s pillow and gently guided his head back down. Then Cas placed the cold pack on his damaged face. Dean hissed as it touched his skin but then relaxed as the throbbing pain was numbed. The small hunter rolled his one good eye up to look at the angel. “You know, when I’m older, we are never telling anyone that I laid around with my head in your lap, got it?”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

“Were you feeling well at school, Dean?”

Dean hesitated for a moment. He wanted to confide in his friend, but if Cas decided that his parents had to be told, then he’d be in trouble for sure. “Just tired and in pain.”

“You seemed jumpy.”

“Guess I’m not completely over what happened.” Well, that was close enough to the truth.

Dean heard footsteps coming up the stairs and looked at the clock. It was dinnertime. He really didn’t want to go down and sit at the table with his parents that were scared of him and would probably hate him forever for what he was. He looked up at Cas pleadingly.

“I’m sleeping.” He whispered and glanced to the door. He caught Cas’ confused look before he closed his eye.

Dean heard the footsteps stop and his door creaked open. The boy tried to keep his breathing controlled and even. After a minute, the door closed and the footsteps started up again. They walked away from the bedroom and back down the stairs. Dean opened his eye and looked at Cas.

“You don’t wish to eat?” The angel questioned.

“Not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat your lunch.”

“Would you eat those nasty fish sticks that they serve at the school?” Dean countered.

“You need food, Dean.”

“I’ll go down after everyone’s asleep and get something from the fridge.”

Cas looked down at him with a look that told Dean that the angel knew exactly why Dean wasn’t going down to eat right now. “Your parents would like to see you, Dean.”

“’Course they would. Even with this,” Dean gestured to the damage on his face. “I’m still really cute.”

“You know what I mean.”

Something in the angel’s tone of voice penetrated Dean’s defenses and made him drop his act. “They’re scared of me, Cas.”

“No. They’re scared of what they saw you do.”

“Same thing. Look, I… I don’t want to talk about it right now, Cas. It’s been a helluva day and I really do need some rest.”

Cas looked like he’d push it for a moment but then he relented. “Alright Dean.”

“Good.”

Dean tossed his novel down on the nightstand and closed his eye, trying hard to block out the tortured screams and demonic laughter he heard echoing around his bedroom.


	52. You and Me

Chapter Fifty-Two: You and Me 

Sammy sat on the floor of his bedroom and tried very hard to fit a square block through a round hole. He knew that that wasn’t where it was supposed to go, but that was where he wanted it to go and he figure that maybe with enough force he could make it work. So far, he had had no luck. Finally, Sammy took the blue square block and threw it down. He didn’t really like this toy much anyway. Mama and Dada were always saying he should play with it but he didn’t like it. Sammy pushed the cube toy away and got up. He walked over to his toy box to get a better toy but stopped. There was that sound he waited for all day. The front door. Dean was home!

The last two days Dean had come home, gone in his room and closed his door. That wasn’t fair because Sammy wasn’t tall enough to reach the doorknob to let himself in. And it made Sammy sad. Dean had never closed his door to keep Sammy out before. But now he did. And Dean didn’t come to the table to eat anymore. Sammy saw Dean only one or two times in the last two days and when he did, he saw that Dean had very bad booboos. Mama had told Sammy to be careful with Dada because Dada had bad booboos but Dean looked like his booboos were even badder. And Dean was sad too. Sammy knew this because he heard Dean crying in his room. Sammy wanted Dean to be happy again because Dean was always happy and Dean was always making Sammy happy. But most of all, he just wanted to be with Dean. So, Sammy quickly got up and ran into Dean’s bedroom before Dean got there.

He was excited to see Dean walk into the room, even if Dean was looking down at the floor and not at him. Dean threw his backpack down and kicked it as he closed his door. Sammy smiled and waved at Dean.

“Dee!”

Dean looked up and for a moment, Sammy thought that Dean looked scared. But Dean was never scared. “What’re you doing in here, Sammy?”

“Dee!” Sammy pointed at Dean.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah.” That was one of the things that Sammy liked best about Dean. He never pushed Sammy to talk like Mama and Dada did, but always seemed to know what Sammy meant.

“Guess I haven’t been around much, huh? But it’s not like anyone really wants to see me. ‘Cept you, I guess. And I’ve also been resting a bit ‘cause I feel like crap.”

“Dee got booboo?”

“Yeah.”

“S’mmy kiss?”

Dean smiled. Sammy smiled because Dean was smiling. “Sure kiddo.” Dean walked over and got on his knees. Sammy leaned forwards and kissed Dean’s face right on his bad booboo. Dean leaned back and the booboo was still there.

“Booboo.” Sammy ran his fingers over the bad booboo.

“It feels better now.” Dean told him and put his hand in Sammy’s hair.

Sammy clapped his hands. “Yay!”

“Just what I was gonna say.” Dean suddenly jumped up and spun around, making a small, scared sounding noise. Sammy grabbed onto Dean’s leg because he knew that Dean was scared and if Dean was scared then something bad was happening and Dean would keep him safe. Dean raised his arm as if to stop something from hitting his face but Sammy couldn’t see anything there. After a moment, Dean lowered his arm. 

“Dee?” 

Dean turned back around as soon as Sammy let go of his leg. Dean tried to smile, but he still looked scared. “Uh, you should go back to your room now, Sammy. I… uh, I got some homework stuff to do.”

“Dee cared?”

“No. Nothing to be scared of Sammy. Everything’s okay. It’s just… you know…” Sammy saw tears coming to Dean’s eye that wasn’t all puffy and hurt. Then Dean turned and opened his door. He walked back over to Sammy. “Go on back to your room and play now, Sammy.”

“Tay.”

“Stay? You wanna stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I’m no good to be around, Sammy.”

Well, that didn’t make sense. Dean was good. Dean was the goodest person Sammy ever met. “Dee good.”

“You think so, huh?”

“Yeah!”

Tears ran down Dean’s face as he got down on his knees and hugged Sammy. Sammy hugged him back, happy to be hugging Dean, but not sure why Dean was crying. Maybe his booboo was hurting again.

“Guess it’s just like old times then. You and me against the world.”

Sammy wasn’t quite sure what Dean was talking about but he liked the ‘you and me’ part. He liked being with Dean. “Love Dee.”

Dean looked down at Sammy and smiled, but he was still crying too. “Thanks, Sammy. At least someone still does.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary stood in the hallway, holding a basket full of clean, folded laundry, unsure of what to do next. She’d come upstairs to put away Sammy’s clothes and leave Dean’s by his door for Cas to take in with him later. Yeah, she knew that she was being a complete coward. Dean closed his door, but never locked it, so she could easily let herself in to put away his laundry as well. She told herself that she was respecting his privacy, but in reality, she just had no clue what to say to him anymore and each day that passed made it harder instead of easier. 

If Mary was going to be completely honest with herself, this wasn’t the first time that her son had done something that had scared her. She’d been a bit unnerved at times watching as he’d decapitated, shot, stabbed, burned, and hacked up monsters of all types. She’d come to realize over the last year that Dean took on most of the dirty work himself to spare John and herself from having to do it. But it was not always comfortable to watch her five year old performing those acts, especially when he’d sometimes crack severely inappropriate jokes before, during, and after the fact. Yet all those time she’d understood that he’d just been doing what had to be done, what he’d been trained to do all his life. This time, however, was completely different. This wasn’t a hunter killing a monster. What she’d seen in her son was barely even human. Dean hadn’t just killed that demon, he’d slaughtered it. And then he’d turned on them. Her own son had attacked her husband and for a moment she’d been certain that the boy was going to kill him. Mary knew that it wasn’t really Dean’s fault. It was because of all the torture he’d been through at the hands of Alastair while in Hell for decades. But it had still happened. And Mary still couldn’t forget it. And it was making her act awkward around Dean, which was causing her already traumatized son even more pain. Which was making her feel terrible. 

And now, just as she was about to go passed Dean’s door to put away Sammy’s clothes, it had swung open. She stopped dead and held her breath. From her spot in the hall, Mary could hear her sons’ conversation. And it was just another knife twisting in her heart. She didn’t know what they’d been doing before the door had been opened, but when Dean suggested that Sammy leave, the toddler refused, wanting to stick by his brother. Dean had tried to convince the smaller boy that he was no good but Sammy wouldn’t believe him. And when little Sammy professed his love for his older brother (he’d never even spoken the word ‘love’ before), Mary turn and fled back down to the laundry room. What the hell kind of mother leaves a one and a half year old to comfort her son? That should’ve been her job. 

“You could’ve gone into Dean’s room.” 

The clean clothes spilled all over the floor as Mary dropped the laundry basket and spun around to come face to face with Castiel. The angel was standing only inches away from her. Dean had been right. He really didn’t grasp the concept of personal space. Mary didn’t bother asking Castiel how he knew that she had been eavesdropping on her sons’ conversation. The angel always seemed to know everything.

“I don’t see you in Dean’s bedroom.” Mary shot back rather defensively.

“You could not see anything in his room from down here.”

Mary sent him an annoyed look. “Cheap shot, Castiel. You know what I mean.”

“Yes I do. But since I have been his only companion for the last four days, it is not me that he needs to see.”

“I’m not the one closing his bedroom door.”

“But you are the one not opening it.”

“Is that why you came down here? To give me a guilt trip? Because if it is, you can save your speech.”

“It’s not my intention to make you feel guilty. My intention is to get you to talk to your son.”

Mary sighed. “Do you really think that Dean wants to talk about what happened?”

“No. Nor do I think that you are ready to face what happened that night. You still look upon him with fear. But that is not what I am suggesting.”

“Then what are you saying, Castiel?” Mary knelt down and started picking her sons’ clothes back up off the floor. She re-folded them and placed them back in the laundry basket. Anything to avoid the angel’s penetrating blue eyes. 

“I am saying that you go upstairs tonight and not pretend that Dean is sleeping when it is dinner time.” Castiel instructed. Mary didn’t insult either of their intelligence by asking how he knew that she knew that Dean wasn’t really sleeping those previous evenings. “When he is at the table, you should try to treat him like normal.”

“Dean thinks I don’t love him anymore.” Mary confided, standing up and facing Castiel once again.

“Have you told him that you love him?”

“No.”

“Then all he knows since the weekend is that you fear him. And, since you don’t speak to him, he has drawn the conclusion that you hate him.” Castiel stepped close to her until they were mere inches apart again. “Dean and I have had our differences many times over the years. Sometimes, getting back into our normal routine was all we needed to start to rebuild the trust that had been lost between us.”

“So what, eating a meal together will magically solve all our problems?” Mary asked skeptically.

“No. But Dean will begin to understand that you do not hate him and you will begin to see that you do not need to fear him. If you don’t want to lose your son for good, you need to do something.”

Mary sighed. “When did you become such an expert on humans?”

“I’m not.” Castiel admitted. “But I do like to think that I’m an expert on Dean. Especially after this past year. And it has been a year today.”

“Today?” Mary’s eyes widened. He was right. It was November second. It had been a whole year since her son had traveled back to save her life. But something else had happened that night. She had made her son feel rejected by telling him that he wasn’t ‘her Dean’. Even twelve months later she couldn’t forget what she’d said. And now she was making him feel even worse, yet this time she wasn’t doing anything to fix the situation. But she could. Because Castiel was right. Maybe all their family needed was a bit of normalcy. Or as close to normalcy as the Winchesters ever got.

“Would you like me to bring Dean his clothes?” Castiel offered.

“No, I got it.” Mary responded. She thought she saw the angel smile as she stepped past him to go up the stairs.

When she walked into Dean’s room, she found him sprawled out on his bed reading Batman comics to Sammy. The younger boy was chewing on his sleeve and listening intently to every word spoken. Dean was absently rubbing at his sore eye with one hand, his other posed to turn the page.

“There better not be too much violence in that comic.” Mary warned.

Dean looked up and rolled his good eye. “No Mom, Batman defeats the villains by asking them kindly to change their bad behavior. Then he gives them cookies for listening.”

“Cookies!” Sammy exclaimed happily.

Mary sighed as she went to his dresser and began to put away his shirts. 

“I can do that, Mom.”

“I’ve got it, sweetie. Just keep reading to Sammy. He’s been looking forwards to seeing you.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice sounded a bit hollow.

“When you’re done with that, bring him down for dinner. I don’t want you to fall asleep early tonight. I’m worried that you’re not getting enough to eat. Besides, you’re father and I miss having you at the table.”

“Sure.” Dean didn’t really sound like he believed her. 

“Love Dee!” Sammy exclaimed, climbing onto his big brother and planting a sloppy kiss onto his face.

Dean smiled, an actual genuine smile, and kissed Sammy on the head. “Love you too, Sammy.” 

Mary watched how her eldest son treated the little toddler and found that she couldn’t even picture him as the crazed, bloody, dangerous person she’d seen over the weekend. That person was gone. Maybe Castiel was right. Maybe all she had to do was get over her own fears and spend some normal time with Dean again to see that everything was really going to be alright. Either way, she had to try. Her son needed her to. Enough people had let him down over his life and she was not going to add her name to that list. 

As Mary walked past the bed on her way out of the room, she bent down and kissed Dean’s head. He looked up at her with a somewhat startled expression and she just smiled down at him. Mary stepped out into the hall, but didn’t close the door behind her.

“I’ll bring Sammy down for dinner in about ten minutes or so.” Dean called after her.

“Okay, sweetie. See you then.” Mary knew that it would still be a bit awkward that night at the table but it was a good first step. Maybe they’d get a break and things would finally start looking up.


	53. Light ‘Em Up

Chapter Fifty-Three: Light ‘Em Up

 

Dean trailed behind his parents and Cas as they hiked through the dark, damp underground tunnels. He wasn’t too thrilled about being out on this hunt with both him and his dad still injured from the last hunt, but this couldn’t wait. Besides, if they hustled, there wouldn’t be any problems with this. A hunt that had had a body count in the dozens the first time around wouldn’t claim a single life this time. If they timed it correctly, this would be easier than a salt and burn.

Dean vaguely remembered his father coming back to their crappy motel room night after night, getting more and more frustrated as people kept on dying. Dean would leave Sammy sleeping in their bed and go try to comfort his daddy, letting him know that he was a good man and that it wasn’t his fault that people had died, and that he killed lots of bad things and that he’d kill this thing too. And Dean stayed up with his dad every night to comfort him until the night that his dad had had enough of what he saw as his own failure and had gotten way too drunk before coming back to the motel. That had not ended well. Dean suppressed a shudder at that particular memory. 

But it hadn’t been too long after that night when the case had been cracked. It wasn’t a creature that was killing the people, but rather a group of creatures. Szazlabu were viscous centipede like beasts that would come to about Dean’s knees at the time of their hatching and would grow in length to be at least eight meters long. They had super sharp teeth and ate human innards. What Dean had read in his father’s journal was that a nest of them had hatched in this town and the juveniles had gone out to help themselves to the population. The mother was long dead, as the gestational period for the eggs was longer than the lifespan of the creature, but the hatchlings were born self sufficient. What Dean knew was that there were always fourteen eggs, the eggs were nearly indestructible until just moments before hatching, and that the babies always eat exactly twenty-four hours after hatching. It was like a bizarre math problem. He wondered if Mrs. Bradley would appreciate him sharing it with the class. Dean had figured out when the attacks started and subtracted twenty-four hours, so they knew when the critters would hatch. Now they where on their way to burn the fourteen eggs to a crisp. No hatched Szazlabu, no dead townspeople. Everyone wins. Well, everyone except the Szazlabu, but they were creepy bug-like monsters that ate people’s internal organs, so who really cared what they wanted anyway.

“Do you know how close we are?”

Dean looked up and saw his dad looking down at him with eyes that were completely white. Alastair. He’d found him again. He was here to take him away and torture him while wearing his father’s body. Oh god. Oh god, no. Please, no. 

“Dean?” His mom was looking at him with a concerned expression. Couldn’t she see what was wrong? Didn’t she know that her husband was possessed?

Wait, no. Dad couldn’t be possessed. He’d gotten an anti-possession tattoo months ago. That’s why Alastair hadn’t used any of them before now. This wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It was another hallucination. It had to be.

“What?” Dean asked, hating the way his voice cracked.

“Are you okay?” His mother squeezed past his dad and placed a hand on his face. Dean was pleased to note that all her hesitation and fear from just a few days ago seemed to have passed. Now she just seemed concerned about him. But he needed that to stop as well. If she knew how nuts he really was, she’d turn her back on him again for sure.

“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

“Your dad asked if you knew where the nest was.”

“Uh, no. Dad was here in the other timeline, but just noted the entrance to the tunnel. I was never down here that time.”

His father nodded. “Okay then, we’ll just keep going. You sure you’re okay?”

Dean forced a smile to his face. “Yeah.” 

No one looked convinced, but they started walking once again. Cas hung back and walked by his side, which was difficult since the tunnels were so narrow. But the boy didn’t mind the slight discomfort the crowding in caused since having the angel close by gave him a sense of comfort. Not that that was something he’d ever admit to, of course. 

Dean almost groaned out loud when he heard the growling of the hellhound right on his heels. Not real, not real, not real, not real. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt Cas’ hand rest on his shoulder and he looked up at the angel and smiled.

“This hunt will go better than the last one, Dean.”

“I know, Cas.”

“Then, what is troubling you?”

“What isn’t?”

“Dean?”

“Never mind. I’m just… it’s nothing. Let’s just fry us some eggs and go home.” 

It was only a few minutes later when the tunnel opened up into a slightly larger area. It wasn’t a large cavern or cave like Dean had been expecting but he assumed that it was the best that Mama Bug had been able to find. The young hunter counted quickly and discovered that all fourteen eggs were there. He walked up to one of them and poked it with his finger. It was as hard as a rock. 

“We’re a bit early. These things won’t burn yet.” 

“Better early than late.” His dad replied. “We’ll just get them ready and then wait”

Dean nodded his approval at the plan and then reached for the pack that Cas had brought with him. Both Dean and his father had been forbidden from any heavy lifting on this job. The boy unzipped the bag and pulled out bottles of lighter fluid. He handed them out to the others, keeping one for himself, and then they got to work. 

Dean poured the accelerant over all of the eggs along one of the walls, watching his family take care of the rest. Once the shells felt pliant, they’d light them up and watch them burn. The only risk was that the shells became pliant mere second before the juvenile Szazlabu hatched and there was a chance that some would emerge while burning. If that happened, they’d just pick them off with their shotguns, if the flames didn’t roast the little beasts first. 

Dean poked one of the eggs again. “Not yet.”

All they could do was wait. Which Dean really didn’t want to do. The longer they waited, the more likely it was that someone would ask him how he was doing, or why he seemed so jumpy, or some other question that he really didn’t want to answer. Dean glanced around the large cavernous space to see hundreds of chains hanging down, each one ending with a sharp, bloody meat-hook. Soon, he knew, they’d be piercing his skin and pulling him high above the floor to hang for God knew how long until… No. It wasn’t real. His parents were here. Cas was here. This space was in reality very small, not a huge never ending cavern. He was on a hunt, not in Hell. This was all a hallucination.

“Dean?”

“What?” He turned to his mom and knew by her expression that he had to look as panicked as he felt.

“Sweetheart, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Well Mom, I’m insane and for a moment I thought I was back in Hell, so you and Dad would probably be best off pouring that lighter fluid on me as well and leaving me behind while you light this whole damned place up. It will be easiest on all of us because then you won’t have to be stuck with me as your son and I won’t have to see the fear and disappointment in your eyes. Dean shook his head to rid his mind of those dark thoughts. “Nothing.”

“Dean, son, we can see that something is bothering you. Please, talk to us.” His father pleaded.

“We got a job to do.” Dean reminded them, desperate to get the attention off of himself. 

Cas tested one of the eggs. “We cannot move ahead with the next step of this hunt yet, Dean. And your well-being is extremely important.”

“So, you’re all ganging up on me now?”

“Dean…” His mom started.

“Look, it’s nothing, okay?” Dean insisted. After all, it wasn’t like he couldn’t deal with the hallucinations all on his own. He’d been doing it just fine since they’d started. The boy sighed and rubbed at the stitches on the right side of his face, trying to find the right words to make the others stop their worrying. “Just, I screwed up our last job and am a bit nervous now. And I know you guys gotta be feeling the same.”

His dad sighed. “Dean, I know that we didn’t handle things too well after what happened, but I swear to you that I’m not thinking that you’ll have a repeat of last time. That wasn’t your fault. Anyone going through what you went through would’ve reacted like that. Hell, they probably would’ve been worse. Cas says that that was after thirty years of constant torture. I can’t even imagine how you can be sane after that. Most people wouldn’t be able to come back from something like that. I knew people that went through far less and lost their humanity from it. Dean, you’re a remarkable person. You really are. And I trust you. And even if something like that happens again, your mother and I will be there to help you through it.”

Dean felt the tears welling up in his eyes and the lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe that those words had just come from his father. “Dad, I…” He was about to tell his dad how much what he said meant to him and finally come clean about his Hell visions. If his dad had promised to stand by him, then maybe Dean could take that chance. But then, from the corner of his eye, the small hunter saw one of the eggs start to shift slightly. “Light ‘em up! Burn ‘em! They’re gonna hatch now!”

Dean pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on just as his dad did the same. They both tossed the small devices onto the fuel drenched eggs and watched as they burst into flames. A high pitched screeching filled the small area. The flames spread quickly and the Winchesters had to start backing down the tunnel so that they wouldn’t be burned as well. Cas could easily get them out of there and to safety, but they couldn’t leave until they knew that all of the eggs were completely destroyed.

Unfortunately, it looked like their bad luck streak was far from over because three of the eggs suddenly broke open and large, nasty-looking flaming bug creatures skittered out and came right at them. Dean had no weapon that would work against them, so he tried to step away from them, to allow his parents to get a clear shot. But one of the Szazlabu must have seen him as easy prey (didn’t everyone nowadays?) and launched itself right at Dean. The boy was knocked backwards by the flaming creature and fell to the ground. He cried out as he felt his clothes catch fire and tried desperately to hold the baby monster back with his arm so that it wouldn’t eat him.

“Get the hell off my son!” His dad yelled but couldn’t shoot the thing without risking hitting Dean.

Luckily, Cas was right next to the youngest hunter and ripped the Szazlabu off of Dean bare handed and threw it onto the ground. Dean’s dad didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger and blow the bug-like monstrosity into little bits. Then the man was pulling off his jacket and dropping down next the boy. Dean was lying on the ground, listening to another shotgun going off, but not really paying attention as he felt the flames burning away his clothes and licking at his skin. Maybe he’d been wrong. 

He was underground. There were creatures all around him. There was screaming… possibly his own. And now he was on fire and burning. Maybe he was in Hell after all. 

No. He had been rescued by Cas a long time ago. Hadn’t he? This was just… he was going crazy. He was with his parents on a hunt, not in Hell. Not in Hell. Or was he?

He was vaguely aware that his dad was speaking to him frantically but he didn’t know what was being said as he swept his gaze around. Dean closed his eyes as the tears began to leak out. He just wasn’t sure what was real anymore.


	54. Screwed Up

Chapter Fifty-Four: Screwed Up

John Winchester ignored the aching in his ribs and the pounding of his heart as he cradled his son in his arms. Dean was staring past him at absolutely nothing and screaming in pain and terror. It reminded John a bit of that terrible night not too long ago but this time the father wasn’t scared _of_ his boy but rather _for_ him. Tears were streaming down the child’s face and John felt a bit like crying as well because he didn’t know what to do. He somehow doubted that Dean’s only problem was the pain that the fire had surely caused him when it burned through his shirt and scorched his flesh, but he didn’t know what else was wrong. The boy wasn’t acting exactly like he had when trapped in his memories of Hell, so that wasn’t it. But then, what was the problem, and what could John do to help?

“Dean? Son, please, what’s wrong. Hey buddy, I want to help you. Talk to me, please.”

Dean stopped screaming and looked up at him with large, watery eyes. His breathing was ragged and he opened his mouth as if to talk but then just shook his head and brought up his hands and started clawing at the stitches in his face. John grabbed the boy’s hands before he could cause too much damage and held them down. Blood trickled down from where Dean had opened up a portion of the healing wound, but it didn’t look too bad. 

“Dean, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself, buddy. Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?” John prayed that he did.

Dean looked around for a moment. John wondered what he was seeing. Was he seeing his father holding him and Mary and Cas making sure that all the Szazlabu were well and truly dead before they got the hell out of these god forsaken tunnels? Or was he seeing Hell again? 

“Dad?”

“Yeah son, it’s me.”

“Hurts.”

“You got burned. But you’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“What? It’s not your fault, Dean.”

“I’m screwed up. Don’t know what’s real anymore.”

Now John was starting to get scared for his son again. “What do you mean, son. You know you’re not in Hell, right? You’re with your mom and I. And Cas is here too. We’ll keep you safe.”

“I know, Dad. But I… I keep seeing things… I should’ve said something… but I was scared…” Dean was crying now but he seemed a bit more focused. Just then, Cas and Mary came up behind them.

“We got them all.” Cas announced. John turned to see that the angel’s hands were burned where he’d grabbed the creature that had been attacking Dean. The hunter knew from experience that Cas would heal quickly but he still felt grateful that the angel was willing to risk injury to rescue another person’s child.

“Great. Can we get out of here before the fire gets out of control?”

“I think that would be a wonderful idea.” Mary commented, but her attention was fixed on Dean.

Cas placed a hand on John, who was still holding his son, and Mary and they all appeared back outside of the tunnels. The father took a deep breath of the fresh, clean air and watched as Dean did the same.

“Dean, sweetie? What’s wrong?” Mary asked.

The boy shook his head, biting his lip and trying to stop his crying. 

“Dean, you were trying to tell me something before. What was it?” John prompted. “You said you saw something. And that you were scared.”

Dean seemed to think for a minute and his gaze swept from him to Mary to Cas and back to him. Then he jumped and looked past John and his eyes widened. John turned, expecting to see one of the Szazlabu skittering across the grass, coming right at them, but there was nothing there. Dean’s breathing sped up but then he closed his eyes and started whispering something. John leaned close enough to hear him.

“Not real, not real, not real, not real.” After a moment, Dean opened his eyes and relaxed.

“Dean?”

“I’m seeing stuff. Stuff that’s not real. Hallucinations. Of things from Hell.”

John nodded, trying to remain calm for his son’s sake. “When did this start?”

“That night. The first one was in the ER.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to us?” He tried to keep the edge from his voice, he really did, but when Dean flinched away a bit, John figured that he must’ve failed miserably.

“I… I just… you and mom were already… you thought I was crazy ‘cause of what happened and you were scared of me and who could blame you and I thought you hated me and I knew I deserved it but I didn’t want to lose you for good so I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause I didn’t want you to know how crazy I really was and what a complete and total failure you have for a son.” Dean’s confession came rushing out all in one breath. 

John shook his head as he tried to digest all the information that Dean had just poured out. Knowing that his son was having hallucinations was scary. Knowing that he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone for fear of being feared, hated, and rejected was terrifying. And what made it even worse was that John himself had added to Dean’s insecurities by allowing him to feel like he was feared and hated for days after the last incident. Maybe if he’d gotten his own act together, stowed his fears, and just held his son and assured him that everything was alright, Dean would’ve been able to come to him about these hallucinations when they’d first shown up rather than facing them alone for all this time. But no, not John Winchester. The tough as nails ex-marine had allowed himself to feel nervous and awkward around his own five year old son and thus left the boy to suffer by himself. Some father he’d turned out to be.

“Damn it!” John exclaimed.

Dean was off his lap and scrambling backwards in an instant, the hole in his burned shirt shifting to reveal the red, blistered skin underneath. The mix of fear, self-loathing, and resignation in his eyes was like a knife to John’s heart. “I’m sorry I said anything. I… I won’t let it interfere with my hunting and I won’t go nuts and hurt anyone again. I promise.”

John couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t listen to Dean saying these awful things. “Dean, stop! Just stop!” He knew his yelling wasn’t helping the situation, but god, if the boy said one more thing against himself, John would be the one going crazy.

“John…” Mary said his name warningly, as if he didn’t already know that he was being a complete ass and screwing everything up.

Dean started edging further away and John stood up and reached out to grab the boy to stop him from darting off into the night. But as his hand got near, Dean flinched away, as if expecting a blow. Which was ridiculous. John had never hit either of his sons before. Of course, he wasn’t the only John Winchester that Dean had had to grow up with… But no. Because as flawed as the other him obviously had been, that man was still him and if he could do something like that… But there was no time to think about that. He’d have to ask Dean about it another time, if he found the courage. For now, he had to calm his son.

“Dean.” He worked hard to keep his voice low and even. “Please son, come back over here.”

As if the heavens themselves had sensed the mood, the skies opened up and ice cold rain began to pour down on the Winchesters. They were soaked through in a matter of seconds. John could see Cas standing close to Dean, offering comfort but not making any move to intercede, knowing that this moment was meant to be between Dean and his father. John just prayed that he could turn it around and somehow handle it correctly.

Dean looked like he was ready to bolt, to just take off into the dark and part of John was afraid that he’d never see his son again. But then the boy took a deep breath and squared his shoulders and his father saw the strong grown up hunter that Dean really was. 

“Fine, I’ll come back over there. And I get it that I screwed up, that I am a screw up, but if you think that I’m gonna let you keep screaming at me or start smacking me around, you’re wrong. You don’t have to like me, but I’m not putting up with that crap again.” His words were tough, but John saw that there was more than just rain running down Dean’s face. 

And as the words sank in, tears ran from John’s eyes as well. Dean had just confirmed what the older hunter had been worrying was true just moments before. “Dean, no. I would never hurt you. And I’m sorry for yelling. I’ve got a temper, we all know that. But it’s not your fault. You didn’t screw up. And you’re not a screw up. Never think that. Never. C’mon, son. Let’s get you out of the rain. Let’s all go home and we’ll get you patched up and talk more. We can help you through this, Dean.”

“How? I’m crazy, Dad! Nuts! And it’s only a matter of time before you and mom realize this and give up on me.” Despite his hopeless words, Dean stepped up close to his dad once again.

“We’d never give up on you.” Mary insisted, coming over to them. 

“That’s what you say now. But you left me last time. And I don’t blame you, I really don’t. I just know that it’ll happen again. Especially since there’s something really wrong with me.”

“But it’s not your fault. And it’s not anything that we can’t beat together. Please son, give us a chance to help you.” John didn’t think that he’d ever begged for anything before in his entire life, but he was begging now. 

Dean looked at him with an expression that seemed trapped between hopeful and skeptical. Luckily, hope seemed to win out, because he stepped forwards and threw his arms around John. 

“Then can we get the hell outta this rain and go home? I’m freezing my ass off.” 

“Sure, Dean. Cas?”

With a touch of the angel’s hand, they found themselves back home. It was the middle of the night, so they wouldn’t go to Bobby’s to pick up Sammy until the morning. No sense waking the cranky hunter or the toddler. Of course, now they were leaving a puddle in the middle of the living room floor, but that was better than getting even more wet out in the rain.

“Mary, can you bring us some towels?”

Dean was shivering, and John pulled the boy back away from him slightly so that he could start peeling off the wet clothing. He was especially carefully with Dean’s t-shirt as the material had become stuck to the burns on the child’s stomach and chest. His son hissed between his teeth and let out a groan but to his credit didn’t cry out as more than one of the blisters were ruptured. John called to Mary to bring the first aid kit along with the towels. He was glad that none of the burns were worse than second degree though. That meant they wouldn’t have to make yet another trip to the hospital. This would’ve been a bit hard to explain. 

Once he had the towels, John turned around to give his son some privacy while the boy stripped his wet pants off and wrapped his lower half up. Then the man gently cleaned the burns, smothered them with silver sulfadiazine cream, and taped some gauze over them. After that, John wrapped another towel around Dean’s shoulders. Then he took a look at the boy’s face. In his earlier panic, Dean had torn out a couple of his stitches and they would need to be replaced. Luckily, they had the correct colored thread so that no one would notice that the new stitches weren’t professionally done. After Dean was completely patched up, John smiled down at him gently.

“Okay buddy, you’re all set. Why don’t you get into some nice warm pajamas? We’ll make some hot chocolate and finish up our talk? Or would you rather get some rest?”

Dean looked like he was exhausted, practically ready to drop, but after a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head. “No. I guess this conversation is long overdue. No use putting it off any longer.”

John nodded, although after all the night’s previous revelations, he was a bit wary of what he’d hear next.


	55. Help and Support

Chapter Fifty-Five: Help and Support

The Winchesters’ living room was quiet as Castiel stood waiting for Dean to come back downstairs. He had gotten himself dried off and into clothes that weren’t soaked all the way through and had made it back before his friend had. Not that that came as a surprise to him. The angel was certain that Dean was taking his time in getting ready for the upcoming conversation. Castiel had witnessed the hunter run headlong into no-win situations and hopeless looking battles many times over the years with not a moment’s hesitation but when it came to discussing his feelings, Dean would most of the time put it off as long as humanly possible. But the youth had been right when he’d told his father that the conversation was long overdue.

Castiel looked over at the stairs and mentally kicked himself yet again. Dean was hallucinating. How could he have missed this? He spent every moment with Dean (well, except for when Dean was in the bathroom, because the angel had no desire to repeat the conversation that had resulted from his attempt to follow his friend into there) and yet he’d somehow failed to realize that the young hunter had been having visions of Hell. What kind of guardian angel was he? Castiel had noticed that Dean had been jumpy, but when confronted, Dean had brushed it off as an aftereffect of his flashback. And Castiel had believed him. The angel supposed that in a way, it was the truth. But still… He should’ve pressed. Should’ve questioned Dean more. He’d been there when Dean had come back from Hell. After all, Castiel had been the one that had dragged his soul from the pit. He knew that it hadn’t been easy for Dean to get over, so why would it be easy for a five year old version of his friend to live through it all over again? Why did Castiel allow Dean to make him believe that a mere child could’ve just brushed the experience off so quickly? Because it was Dean. Because Castiel wanted to believe that his friend was alright. But now he knew that Dean wasn’t alright and he knew that he had to find a way to help him. 

“Did you know?”

Castiel turned to see John standing a few feet away, sipping coffee from an over-sized mug. “If I had known, don’t you think I would’ve helped him?”

“Is there a way to help him?”

Castiel wanted to say ‘yes’, to insist that all it would take was for him to lay his hands on Dean and the traumatized young hunter would once again be alright, but he had no way of knowing. “I will know once we hear him out and we figure out what exactly is wrong with him.”

“It’s always something, isn’t it?”

“With Dean? Yes. I do not believe I can recall a time that I have known him where things have been calm.”

John sighed “I just… I want to make things better for him.”

“You are.” 

Any further conversation was cut off when Castiel heard Dean’s quiet footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned his head to see the boy descending the staircase wearing a pair of green pajamas. He still looked a bit chilled, but was regaining some of his color.

“Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. Hey, Dad. That hot chocolate ready yet?”

“Your mom should be bringing it in soon.”

“I’m bringing it in right now, actually.” Mary announced as she entered the room, carrying a tray holding three steaming mugs, a plate of cookies, a few slices of apple pie on plates, silverware, and napkins. 

Dean flopped down on the couch and smiled gratefully at his mother. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome.” She handed him his mug and placed a plate of pie on the couch next to him along with a fork.

Castiel accepted the proffered cup of coffee and a chocolate chip cookie. He sat on the couch next to Dean who was carefully sipping his hot drink. The angel looked down at his young friend. The hunter had a haunted look in his eyes but seemed to be holding himself together remarkably well. Castiel marveled yet again at the strength that Dean had inside.

“So…” John started.

“What d’ya wanna know?” Dean asked around a mouthful of apples and pie crust.

“You said you were having hallucinations. When? How frequent are they?”

Dean shrugged. “A few a day. I mean, some days are worse than others. Sometimes I go for hours before I get hit by one but other times they come at me rapid fire.”

“Any idea what sets them off?” Mary asked.

“Anything? Nothing?” Dean shrugged again. “I don’t know. I mean, when I’m stressed out or nervous or something like that, they get worse. But they still show up even when I’m calm.”

“What are they?” John asked. “What exactly are you seeing?”

“You know, Hell stuff.”

“What does that mean?”

Castiel watched as Dean shifted uncomfortably and took a sip of his drink. The young hunter was trying to put off answering the question. He didn’t want to reveal any more details about his time in Hell than he had to. But after a moment, Dean gave in.

“Fire. Sometimes I see things on fire. Or I see people with black eyes. Or there’s blood all over the place. And then I here demonic laughter and the screams of people being tortured. Often times, I’ll see chains hanging from the ceiling, with bloodstained meathooks on the ends of them. At school sometimes I’ll go to pick up a pencil but it’ll become a bloody razor instead. And I hear hellhounds growling and snarling and see them following me a lot.”

Castiel noticed that Dean was looking down at his plate the entire time he was speaking, refusing to look anyone in the eye. 

“When it’s happening, do you believe it to be real?” The angel asked him.

Dean looked up at him. “No. I mean, not most of the time. Sometimes I do at first, but then I look around and see that no one else is reacting and I figure that it can’t be real. Also, you know, if my teacher was really possessed, I doubt you’d let me stay in class.” He let out a half-hearted laugh. “So, I guess that makes me a functioning schizophrenic, huh?”

“You’re not crazy, Dean.” John insisted. 

“I’m having freakin’ hallucinations, Dad. What would you call me?”

“Troubled.” Castiel answered. 

“Nice, Cas.” Dean commented. “Very PC.”

Mary spoke next, in a soft, comforting tone. “Dean, tonight you seemed like you really thought you were back… back there again.”

“Yeah well, Hell hallucinations combined with catching on fire makes for a pretty damned convincing experience. It’s usually not that bad. Case in point, I bet none of you would’ve suspected that I’m seeing crap right now.”

Castiel looked at Dean and saw that aside from his pupils being slightly dilated and his breathing being off a bit, he was acting almost normal. The young hunter looked past everyone to stare across the room. Castiel looked to the same spot and, unsurprisingly, saw nothing. 

“What is it, son?” John asked.

“The damned chains again. I really hate those things. And they’re dripping blood all over the carpet.”

“Can you help him, Cas?” John wanted to know. “Like you did when he was having the flashback? And like you do with his nightmares?”

“It depends.” Castiel responded. “If it is a case of the memories pressing into his conscious mind, then yes, I can push them back. But if this is because his mind was put through too much from being forced to relive Hell, then I cannot take away his visions.”

“How will you know?” Dean questioned.

“I need to see if I can view your hallucinations.” Castiel informed him. He reached out a hand to place on his friend’s forehead. “May I?”

Dean hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Go for it.”

The angel laid his palm on the boy’s head and felt the slight jolt as he connected with Dean’s mind. Castiel looked over to where the young hunter was staring at and felt his heart sink. He still saw nothing. 

“Is that where you are seeing the chains?”

“Yeah.”

“Are they still there?”

“Yeah, but I’m guessing that you don’t see them.”

“I do not.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that this is not the same as what happened when you were having flashbacks or nightmares.”

“It means you can’t help me.” Dean nodded his head and tried to look like he was okay with the answer but Castiel could see his friend’s disappointment.

“I cannot cure you instantly, no.”

Dean pulled away and hopped up off the couch, knocking his half-eaten pie onto the floor and spilling some of his hot chocolate. “Well, it’s fine. Really. I’ve been coping just fine on my own, so no big deal.”

“You’re not on your own.” Mary insisted.

“Right.” Dean raised both eyebrows in a somewhat skeptical expression. “Of course not.”

“Son, we’ve been over this. I told you earlier that your mother and I will never leave you.”

“Nor will I.” Castiel assured him.

“You say that now. But everyone leaves me. Everyone. And besides, Cas just admitted that there’s nothing that can be done to help me. I’m crazy and no one can help me.”

“No, Dean. I said that I couldn’t cure you instantly. But I will not give up on you. You are doing a remarkable job of fighting your way through this; of figuring out what is real and what is not. Allow us to assist you in your struggles.”

“How?” Dean was probably trying to sound tough but his voice came out as almost desperate.

“If you ever question what is or is not real, we can help. Just ask.”

John placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “If you ever need anyone to just lean on for support, we’ll be here.”

“Yeah, great, so you’ll all be here to visit me when they haul me away to the funny farm. Nice to know.”

“It won’t be like that, Dean” Castiel insisted.

“Cas, you and I both know how this story ends.” The boy was staring him straight in the eye and the angel knew that he was thinking of Sam after the wall in his head had come crashing down by Castiel’s own hand.

“This isn’t the same, Dean. You’re not…” Castiel stopped himself from saying Sam’s name, certain that Dean didn’t want his parents to know that particular story. “You’re not him. This isn’t the same situation. You’ve been here before, when you got back from Hell the first time.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “I… I had some flashes, saw some stuff. But it wasn’t like this. It never got this bad.”

“You also weren’t five years old then.” Castiel pointed out. “A child’s mind is just not as capable of dealing with these memories. But, that said, you are coping much better than one would expect. I believe that you can, in time, get past this just as you did the first time around. If you keep dismissing the hallucinations, your mind will eventually stop producing them.”

“I’ll get better?”

“Yes.”

It was as if everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief at the same time.

“How long will it take?” John asked.

“I’m not sure.” Castiel replied. “There is no precedent for this.”

“Hey, if there’s a light at the end of this tunnel and it’s not Hell fire, I’ll take it. I don’t care how long the freakin’ tunnel is.” Dean spoke up. Then he licked his lips, somewhat nervously. “Just… your sure you’ll all, you know…”

“We’ll be with you, Dean.” Castiel replied.

“Through anything.” Mary added.

“Awesome.” Dean nodded, trying rather unsuccessfully to mask his relief.

“Now get to bed.” John ordered, after hugging his son and kissing him gently on the head. “We have to get up early to go pick your brother up from Bobby’s tomorrow.”

Dean nodded, obviously too exhausted to even think about arguing. Castiel followed his friend upstairs, hoping that he was right and that Dean’s recovery would come quickly.


	56. After Time Has Passed

Chapter Fifty-Six: After Time Has Passed 

“Dean, how’s that engine lookin’, boy?”

“I know I’m good, but I’m no miracle worker, Bobby. I’m gonna need a bit more time under the hood. This piece of crap is shot to Hell and back. And trust me, they shoulda just left it in Hell.” The kid called back.

Bobby grinned and shook his head. “Ya wanna take a break and get a drink?”

“A real drink?” Now the boy’s head popped out from where he’d had it stuck practically inside of the old rust bucket’s inner workings. 

“Yeah, ‘cause I want yer Mama ta skin me alive when she gets back from the store.” Bobby replied with a roll of his eyes.

The seven year old made a face. “C’mon, I won’t tell her and you won’t tell her, so she’ll never know.”

“Mothers know everything, boy.” Bobby chuckled.

Dean nodded his acknowledgement to that statement. As the small hunter ran his grease coated hands through his dark blonde hair, making it stick up all over the place, Bobby studied him closely. The Winchesters had gotten in late last night and he hadn’t had a chance to do more than greet them and show them to their rooms. Then, this morning had been a blur of activity as Bobby had filled them in on the very few details he had on the case, and John and Cas had gotten ready drive off into the neighboring town to start the job. As soon as Mary had left for the store with a reluctant Sammy to do some grocery shopping, Dean had immediately volunteered to help with the car repairs. As a result, the older hunter had yet to get a good look at the boy. He was slightly under average height and a bit on the thin side but he was more athletic and stronger than most other children his own age. His hair was a little darker than it had been at age four, his freckles stood out a bit on his pale skin, and he still had the ghost of a scar on the right side of his face from that damned demon encounter almost a year and a half ago. Dean’s clear green eyes were slightly dulled by all he’d been through in his life, but Bobby had discovered that the boy was good at hiding that from most everyone. Hell, the old hunter sometimes wondered if the only reason he saw the real Dean was because the kid allowed him to. 

“Just one and you can water it down.” Dean bargained.

Bobby thought it over. “How ya doin’ in school?” 

The boy hopped down out of the car he’d been working on. And damned but if that kid wasn’t in an under-aged body and being cared for by parents that loved him, Bobby would keep him here and hire him on the spot as a mechanic. No one knew his way around an engine like Dean Winchester. 

“Great, actually. Just got my third semester report card and got all A pluses.”

“Thought yer mama told ya not ta show off?”

Dean shrugged. “Not trying to, Bobby. But I’m in my thirties and stuck in second grade. Forgive me for doing well. Actually, when this vacation’s over and I go back, they got me going for more tests. They want to jump me to fourth grade next year.”

“What’s yer parents gotta say ‘bout this? I know they didn’t want ya attractin’ much attention to yerself.”

“Yeah… they told me I gotta dial it down a bit. But they’ll let me do it this one last time if I want. That’ll mean I graduate at sixteen.”

“Yeah, an maybe ya won’t be so bored next year.”

“What, you think fourth grade work will be challenging for me?”

“No. Just saying that as ya get into the later grades yer gonna get into the history and science crap that yer gonna hafta memorize all over again, cause I doubt ya remember it from the first time around. Gotta be more entertaining that learning to spell ‘cat’.”

“How ‘bout you, old man? You remember how to spell ‘cat’?”

“Watch it, boy!” Bobby warned. “Now, skipping grades seems like somethin’ to celebrate, so why don’t we go in and get ya that watered-down beer.”

“You serious?”

“Yer brushing yer teeth afterwards ta clean up yer breath and ya ain’t tellin’ yer parents.”

“Deal!” Dean grinned.

Bobby grinned back. He knew that he shouldn’t encourage certain things, but he couldn’t help it. He’d gotten close to the Winchesters over the past couple of years, but none of them more than Dean and he saw how much the boy struggled to be the adult he kinda was while he was also a kid as well. If giving him a severely watered down alcoholic drink made him feel a bit more like himself, well it was worth it. 

Bobby led the way into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He poured a small amount into a cup and then added water to it and brought the drink to Dean who’d sat down at the table. The two of them clinked their respective beers together and then each took a sip. Dean wrinkled his nose. 

“Ya ain’t used ta it, huh?”

“Nope. But it’s good.”

“It’s piss and ya know it.”

The boy laughed. “Sure is, but outside my dreams, it’s all I’ve had in two and a half years Bobby. So, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You and yer family are here helping me out right now, it’s the least I can do.”

“Gotta suck to have a case so close to home and you can’t stick your nose into it.”

Bobby nodded. “But what am I gonna do? Flash a fake badge around just an hour’s drive from home? That’ll end well.”

“Yeah, if someone recognizes you, you’d be in a world of trouble.” Dean agreed. “Still, if this turns out to be a case of demonic possession instead of the spiritual type, my parents are gonna kill you. We’ve managed to avoid demons for almost a year and a half. Dad and Mom kind of obsessive about it after what happened last time.”

“I wouldn’t’ve called ya in if I thought demons were involved.” Bobby insisted, his attention called back to the scar on Dean’s face. He hadn’t been there that night, hadn’t even seen the small hunter until a week after it had happened, but from what he’d heard, the whole situation had been horrific. He’d never call the family in on a demon case and put his young friend in another position like that. “There have been no demonic omens in or around the area. I even went into town and snuck onto one of the crime scenes. No sulfur.”

“So, just a few people spontaneously going nuts and murdering their loved ones. Awesome.” Dean took another drink.

“Well, that’s the short version. Hopin’ that yer daddy and guardian angel can get some actual details today.”

“Well, if a ghost is possessing these poor bastards, we gotta find out who it is and salt and burn their bones.”

Bobby took a long pull from his bottle. “Ya know, it’s thinking like that that’s gonna make ya skip grades in school and turn you into the world’s best hunter.” 

“Okay, so I stated the obvious. I just wasn’t sure if you’d be able to think of it yourself now that you’re going senile and all.”

“You actually think yer funny, don’t ya, boy?”

“I know I am.” Dean replied with a cocky smile. The boy tossed down the last of his beer and put the empty glass on the table. 

“Keep tellin’ yerself that.”

The sound of the front door opening startled them both. “We’re back!” Mary Winchester announced, causing Dean to look from his glass to Bobby with a barely concealed panic that would’ve made the older hunter laugh if it wasn’t his neck that was on the line as well. He gestured for the boy to slide the cup over to him and when Dean complied, Bobby took a pack of spearmint gum from his shirt pocket and tossed a piece to the kid. Dean quickly unwrapped the stick and shoved it into his mouth. As the boy chewed the gum to hopefully kill the smell of beer from his breath, Bobby poured the rest of his alcohol into the glass and raised it to his lips as though he’d been drinking from that glass all along. 

Mary walked into the kitchen carrying several plastic bags. Sammy trailed after her, dragging a bag on the ground behind him. The woman placed the much needed groceries on the counter top and started to unpack.

“Dean!” Sammy cried out in joy and ran to his older brother.

“Hey, Sammy. Enjoy your shopping trip?”

“Yeah! We got cookies!”

“Really? Did you convince Mom to let you get the good ones?”

“Yeah, Dean. We got Oreos!” 

“Awesome.” Dean nodded his approval before lowering his voice. “Did you get to eat one in the store?”

“No.” Sammy pouted. “Mommy says not ‘til affer sammiches.”

“If you sneak him any you’re both grounded.” Mary called over her shoulder.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mom.” Dean replied, with a smile that spoke a completely different story.

Bobby tried not to laugh. He couldn’t help but notice how close the two boys were. He just hoped it didn’t lead to Dean making dumbass decisions like selling his soul once again. 

“Sammy, please go get washed up for lunch.”

“Awww, Mommy. I don’t wanna.”

“Then I guess it’s naptime?” Mary asked him.

“I go wash up.” Sammy announced.

“Good choice.” His mom approved.

Once the little boy was gone, the woman tuned her attention to the two hunters sitting at the table. 

“So Dean, I didn’t get a chance to ask this morning, how did everything go overnight?”

Dean looked up at her and grinned. “I took Cas to a strip club.”

“Dean!” Mary scolded.

Bobby almost choked on the mouthful of beer he’d just drank.

“Just kidding, Mom. No, I took Cas fishing in my dreams. He said that it wasn’t difficult to push away the Hell memories. At least, no harder than usual.”

“And so far today?”

“No hallucinations yet.” Dean responded.

“That’s great. It’s been over a week.”

“Yep.” He was trying to act like it was no big deal, but Bobby could tell that he was pleased. 

Bobby knew that the boy’s hallucinations probably weren’t gone for good, but they were becoming far less frequent and not as severe. As a matter of fact, the last time Dean had had one, he’d even rolled his eyes at it. It was a very good sign.

“Well, ya better go get yerself cleaned up too.” Bobby instructed Dean. “Ya need it more than yer baby brother does. Less ya want motor oil on yer sandwich.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Dean shrugged. 

“You’re not poisoning yourself while I’m around.” Mary informed him. “So go.” As he walked past her, she gave him a curious look. “What’s with the gum, Dean? I’ve never seen you chew gum before.”

He shrugged. Bobby noticed that he kept his head turned away from her as he spoke, probably not trusting his breath not to carry the scent of alcohol. “You never keep any in the house.”

“It’s not good for your teeth.” She countered.

“A little won’t hurt him.” Bobby interjected.

“Does that go for the beer you gave him as well?” 

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. “What? Bobby didn’t…”

“I’m not stupid. Bobby never drinks bottled beer from a glass. You were both out working on the cars all morning, so I know you have to be thirsty, and yet there was no glass in front of you when I came back. Then you were both shooting nervous glances back and forth as I walked in. The mint gum was just the last piece of the puzzle. And by the way, it doesn’t mask the smell enough.”

Bobby stood up. “Look, I watered it down quite a bit. I just wanted to…”

“I know. Treat him like an adult.” Mary cut the older hunter off.

“Don’t be mad at Bobby, Mom.” Dean defended him. “I badgered him into it. I just… it’s what I was always used to and…”

“Dean, stop! I don’t want to hear it. And I am warning you; don’t get drunk, don’t get alcohol poisoning, and don’t drink in front of your brother. Ever. Got it?” 

“Seriously?”

“I’m trying to treat you like an adult here, Dean. Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t.” Dean grinned as he left the room to go wash up.

Bobby looked at Mary in shock.

“I’m surprised that the boy ain’t grounded fer life.”

“If only I could, I’d ground both him and you. But what am I supposed to do, Bobby? If I treat him like a normal seven year old, he’s going to go crazy. I’m sure that’s exactly what you were thinking when you let him have a drink just now. He needs to be himself sometimes, even if we don’t always understand who he really is. I certainly don’t want to encourage bad habits, but on the other hand, he’s had years of these habits ingrained into him already. I can’t fight them. I’m not even sure I should. He’s my son and I love him for who he is, bad habits and all.”

“He told me he’s gonna be starting fourth grade next year.” Bobby mentioned, trying to change the subject to something slightly safer. He was hoping to ease Mary’s tension and help her to calm down a bit. 

“Yeah. I hope everything goes well.”

“Ya got concerns?”

“He may have the memories of his adult self, but Dean’s still going to be a seven year old in a class of nine year olds. Plus he’s a little small for his age. And the other kids regard him as a genius. A weird genius. And you have to admit, looking at him, you can tell that something about him is just a bit… off.”

“Yer afraid of him getting picked on?”

“Wouldn’t any mother be afraid of something like that?”

“Well, yer boy can certainly defend himself.”

Mary sighed. “Yeah, that’s something else I’m concerned about. What if he’s pushed too far and his temper snaps. He can really hurt someone. Or what if he doesn’t. Dean does have his own personal guardian angel who may just decide to step in and help.”

Bobby shook his head. “And I thought my school years were rough.”

“These are not things that any parenting classes or books can ever prepare you for.”

“Well then, why don’t ya just trust Dean ta do his best. He’s made it this far while the odds were against him.”

“I know. You’re right. How’d you ever get to be so smart, Bobby?”

“Just always been that way.” Bobby replied.

“I’ll bet.” Mary smiled. “Oh, but one last thing.”

“Yeah?” 

“You ever give my son alcohol again without my permission and no one will ever find your body. Understood?”

The older hunter nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, you should go wash your hands as well.”

Bobby walked from the room, wiping his greasy hands on his pants. He could hear Dean and Sammy laughing and splashing water around in the sink in the upstairs bathroom. In that moment he admitted to himself that he probably could’ve called in another hunter for help with this salt and burn case, but he just loved having the Winchesters over. And since Dean had a week off from school and John was taking some vacation time, maybe he could convince them to stay for a bit when this job was completed. It was nice to feel like he belonged to this strange but nice family.


	57. Twenty Questions

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Twenty Questions

“So, what can my little local police force do to help the mighty FBI?” Sheriff Christopher Lyman asked as he tipped his chair back and rested his feet on his desk. His hands were folded in his lap and he looked completely uninterested in providing any sort of help at all.

John suppressed the urge to push the desk, thus knocking the other man from his perch. This was possibly his least favorite part of hunting. Trying to get information out of law enforcement officials that only wanted to stand in their way and waste their time. He wondered how his son had ever found the patience to do it all those years. 

“Well Sheriff, I understand that you’ve had a few murders recently in your town.”

“Yep. But you arrived a bit late for them. Already been solved.” The man smiled. Actually smiled. People had died, been brutally murdered by their loved ones, and this asshole was sitting here smiling about it. Maybe John should ‘accidentally’ knock his chair over.

“You’ve caught all the suspects and proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that they committed the murders?”

“Well, we caught the one murderer that didn’t kill himself after he was done with his family. The other three saved us the trouble.” Sheriff Lyman shrugged. 

“They took their own lives?” Cas questioned, cocking his head to the side.

“That’s what I just said, Agent. Hung themselves.”

“All three hung themselves?” John asked. “Doesn’t that strike you as a bit odd?”

“If you slaughtered your wife and kids in a fit of rage, wouldn’t you want to escape your pathetic life afterwards?”

John shook his head, trying to get rid of that mental image. “So, all four killed their families?”

The sheriff sighed, obviously annoyed that the FBI was still in his office questioning him. “Mr. Franks killed his long time girlfriend and then went home, wrote a confession and hung himself. Mr. White killed his wife and son and then wrote a confession and hung himself. Mr. Peabody killed his wife and twin daughters and then wrote a confession and hung himself. And then Mr. Keller killed his girlfriend and wrote a confession and suicide note and left it at the scene and then drove home. But a neighbor saw him leave and we got to his house and arrested him. Now he’s claiming he didn’t do it. Heaven help me.”

“I do not believe that you will receive any divine intervention.” Cas commented.

“What?”

“Nothing.” John elbowed the angel in the ribs. 

The sheriff looked between the two of them somewhat suspiciously.

“So, you have witnesses and his written confession, yet he claims not have perpetrated the crime?” Cas asked.

“Yep. Nuts, right?”

“How were the victims murdered?” John wanted to know.

“They were beaten and then stabbed. Cause of death was trauma and blood loss. Why is the FBI interested in this? It’s pretty open and shut.”

“Perhaps not as much as you think.” Cas informed him. “My partner asked you before if you thought that this seemed a bit odd to you. Because it should. We believe that these people are being influenced by an outside force.”

“An outside force? Like what?” Lyman asked skeptically.

“A cult perhaps.” John responded, not trusting Cas not to reply a bit more truthfully even though he’d ordered the angel not to. Dean had warned him that Cas sucked at lying and cover stories. “We’ve seen this before in smaller towns than this. Ordinary people drugged by religious nuts convinced that they are preparing for the end of times. Usually the body count only goes up from here.”

“We don’t have any cults around these parts.”

“Of course you don’t. They wouldn’t touch the people in their areas. They send people out undercover to towns far away. Either way, my partner and I will need your files to look over and access to talk to the witnesses and the suspect. We’ll keep in touch.”

“I think you’re nuts, but sure, why not.” The sheriff leaned forwards and grabbed a few thin files from his desk and tossed them at John. “Knock yourselves out.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” John nodded his farewell as they left the office.

They were almost out of the small station when they heard a voice call out behind them.

“Hey, hold up a minute, please.”

Turning around, John saw a uniformed man approaching. He was in his thirties, fit with dark hair, a thin mustache, and a tired look on his face.

“May I help you?” John asked.

“You’re FBI, right?”

“Yeah.” John lied.

“I’m Officer Gregory Wells. Are you here about the four murders that took place recently?”

“Yes.”

“I’m the one that sent the file in to the Bureau. Last I knew, we had been denied any kind of help. I’m glad your superiors changed their minds.”

“Well, four murders, three turning to suicides, is certainly enough to catch our attention.” John responded.

“Yeah. Look, it may be more than just the murder/suicides.”

“What do you mean?” Cas asked.

Wells looked around to make certain no one was close enough to overhear them. “I can’t say much. Sheriff Lyman already is looking for reasons to get my ass kicked off the force, but here.” The officer handed John a folder. “There’ve been other people in town that’ve suddenly committed crimes outta the blue. Not petty stuff either. I’m talking robbery, rape, and assault. Then they either vanish, kill themselves, or claim innocence. Seven cases total, not counting the murders. This just ain’t normal, not for our town.”

“The sheriff didn’t mention any of this.”

“He says it’s not connected. But then again, he’s a moron.” The last part was muttered under the policeman’s breath, but still audible.

John chuckled. “Yeah, that was my professional opinion too. What’s his problem with you?”

“My father was the sheriff before he was, and was a great man. A legend around here. This guy is an idiot and is trying to convince everyone that the only reason I got my job here is ‘cause of who my daddy was. I swear he’s actually happy about these murders because he’s ‘solved them’ and is trying to build a reputation on it or something. As I said; he’s a moron.”

“So, I was correct in assuming that we won’t get much help from him.”

“Nope. If something more is going on with this case he doesn’t want to know about it. And he certainly won’t want the feds coming in and solving it. I’ll pass along what I can, but just so you know, that might be limited.”

“We’d appreciate anything you can do.”

“And I’d appreciate it if you can help restore sanity to our little town.”

“We’ll do what we can.” John shook his hand and then left the station with Cas close behind. 

As soon as they were in the Impala, he turned to the angel. “Well, this makes no sense.”

“How so?”

“Spirits are very predictable. They stick to patterns. If this guy killed his loved ones and then himself in real life and is possessing people now, that’s exactly what he would do over and over again. The other stuff the officer mentioned just doesn’t fit.”

“Maybe it’s unconnected.”

“Maybe.” John allowed. “But if we don’t look at it from a preconceived idea of spiritual possession, it certainly does look like a pattern. Ordinary people with no history of violence suddenly committing horrible crimes. I’ll have to take a look at all the details when we get back to Bobby’s and then talk with witnesses tomorrow, but I have a hunch that this is connected.”

“So maybe not a spirit, then.” Cas commented.

“Well, I hope that that’s not the case, because the only other thing that controls people and forces them to do crap like this is demons. And that’s not something I want Dean anywhere near.”

“Bobby doesn’t believe demons are involved. And if they are, then we keep Dean safe in the panic room until this is over.”

“Like he’ll go for that.” John commented.

“It won’t be the first time I’ve had to fight Dean on something for his own good. He won’t be happy but he will be safe. But perhaps it won’t even come to that. There is still a chance that it could be a spirit. Or perhaps more than one. That would account for the change of motive.”

“Cas, that’s a brilliant idea!” John exclaimed, relieved to have an idea that didn’t involve demons and possibly restraining his own son. “Or you know what, I’ve done some reading recently and I think I have another theory too. Witchcraft.”

“It’s possible.”

“Yeah, but that would mean that we’d find some link between the victims. So, if not, we’ll stick to the spiritual possession theory.”

Cas didn’t respond as John started up the Impala and drove back towards Singer Salvage.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean kicked a piece of scrap metal out of his way as he trudged through the scrap yard with Sammy just a few steps behind him. Bobby had sent him out to see if he could find an intact back seat that would fit a ’69 Chevy Camaro. The young hunter had agreed to help, and his almost three year old brother has asked to tag along. If Dean had thought that adult Sam had perfected the pleading eyes, he’d completely forgotten how potent those eyes had been on a little toddler. Of course, now he got to play twenty questions with his little brother, only Sammy never stopped at twenty.

“But why you hafta?”

“’Cause it’s important, Sammy. There’s a lot of work to be done and Dad, Mom, and Cas can’t do it alone.”

“But I wanna play wit you.”

“I know, kiddo. And I’ll play with you when I’m not helping out. I promise.”

“But Deeeeaaaannnn.” Sammy dragged his name out into several syllables. It was an impressive display of whining. 

“Sorry Sammy, but I gotta do it.”

“But why? You li’l. Like me. You no work. You play.”

“Doesn’t work like that. I’m the older brother, so that means that I hafta work so that you can play.”

“Oh.” Sammy seemed to think about that for a while. 

As the little guy was thinking it over, the boys walked in silence. Dean was scanning all the cars, looking for one that might work. This conversation was bringing back all sorts of memories from Dean’s original childhood, back when Sam hadn’t known the truth and had constantly questioned everything. Dean wondered how he was going to handle things this time around. He knew that eventually Sammy would need to know the truth, and not just about the things that go bump in the night. He’d need to know about Dean’s past. But that would wait until… well, until Dean couldn’t possibly put it off any longer. 

“I think I found what Bobby needs.” Dean announced, pointing to a car stacked up on top of two others. The make and model was right to have the proper seat. Dean just had to make sure that it was intact. It would be a bitch to get the seat down from there, but he was certain that his dad and Bobby could handle it. And since they’d almost made a complete circle of the lot, it was very close to the house so they’d only have to carry it a few yards to get it to the garage. Hell, if Dean had set off in this direction in the first place, he’d have found the damned thing within the first two minutes. “Stay down here while I climb up and have a look, okay Sammy?”

“Be careful.” Sammy warned.

Dean chuckled. His little brother had definitely listened to their mother too much. But at least he had a mom to listen to this time around. The older boy grabbed onto the car and stepped up onto the bumper. Then he started climbing. 

It took him no time at all to pull himself through the window and into the backseat of the old car. Dean grinned. Not only was it the right size and color, but it was in great shape. Bobby would be pleased. Dean had poked his head out and was about to call down to Sammy when he heard the Impala pull up. He watched as his dad and Cas got out.

“Don’t mention anything about demons, okay?” His dad ordered.

Dean felt his blood turn to ice.

“I wasn’t going to.” Cas insisted.

“Good. No sense saying anything when we don’t know anything.”

“Agreed.”

Dean watched the two of them disappear into Bobby’s house. He hated the fact that the mere mention of demons could affect him the way that it did but it couldn’t be helped. The black-eyed sons of bitches just unnerved the crap outta him nowadays. After all, the young hunter wasn’t stupid enough to believe that just because Alastair hadn’t made a move in almost two years that he was done with Dean. No, the demons were planning something. And when they made a move, it wasn’t going to be pleasant. Yet, Dean had learned the hard way a year and a half ago that demons were opportunistic, and given the chance would abandon whatever long-term plans the higher-up demons were cooking up to try and make a grab for him. Was that what he’d be walking into this time? Was he going to be putting his family in danger again?

Dean was so deep in his dark thoughts as he was climbing out of the car that he lost his footing and fell to the ground, landing right in front of Sammy.

“Ah! Damn!” Dean cried out.

“Dean! You ‘kay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The older boy responded, hopping to his feet.

“Booboo!” Sammy called out, pointing up at him.

Dean felt a sharp pain and looked at his elbow, which, sure enough, was dripping blood from where it had been cut on a piece of scrap he’d landed on. “It’s nothing, Sammy.”

“Kiss?”

“Once I clean it out, you can give it all the kisses you want, little man.” Dean informed him. “Let’s get inside, huh?”

“’Kay.”

As the brothers approached the house, Dean took a deep breath and tried not to worry too much about the upcoming hunt. His dad had admitted that they didn’t know anything. So maybe it wasn’t demons at all. He guessed he’d find out tonight after Sammy went to bed. Then Dean would sit down with the others and they’d get to work on this case. No matter what it turned out to be, they’d find it, gank its ass, and enjoy the rest of their vacation.


	58. An Unknown Enemy

Chapter Fifty-Eight: An Unknown Enemy

Dean flipped through one of the files, skimming the hand-written notes and the professional typed-up report. It basically offered no more information than his father and Cas had already told them. Then the young hunter thumbed through the photos. The victim, tied to a chair, beaten and cut to death. If the dude that murdered this chick hadn’t been possessed, Dean would’ve said that he deserved far worse that hanging himself. But it really wasn’t the possessed guy’s fault. He was just as much a victim as his girlfriend. Which made this whole case sick beyond belief. Dean felt slightly nauseas and swallowed it back, hoping that no one noticed. Ever since Cas had brought him back into his younger body, certain things effected him that didn’t use to. But he just ignored them and pressed on.

“Well, the murders seem pretty clear.” Dean announced. “There’s a definite pattern, which almost certainly points to spiritual possession. And we’d be looking for someone who, in his own life killed his family and then hung himself.”

“Are we thinking a girlfriend or wife and kids? Because we have both types of victims.” His dad asked.

“Wife and kids.” Bobby answered. “Look, the last couple weren’t married but the autopsy found that the girl was pregnant.”

Dean nodded, ignoring the growing sick feeling. “Okay, so the only murder not involving a woman and children then would be the first and that could be chalked up to inexperience. We’ve seen it before where a ghost gets something wrong at first.”

“So now we just need to go to the library and research to find anything in the area that matches that description.” Mary spoke up. “Dean and I can handle that tomorrow while John and Castiel are talking with witnesses. Maybe we’ll luck out and have a body to salt and burn by tomorrow night.”

“Maybe.” Dean commented. “But it’s the other stuff Dad mentioned that doesn’t make sense. You mentioned robberies, assaults, and rapes?”

“Yeah.” His dad pushed the other files towards him.

Dean grabbed the first folder and opened it. Upon seeing the photo on top, he quickly turned the page. Reading the details wasn’t much better. 

“This… this makes no sense. A college student that everyone liked suddenly rapes two women on the same night and then goes home and stabs himself in the throat? What the hell?” Dean threw the folder down and grabbed another. “A kindergarten teacher beats her coworkers unconscious for no reason and is now claiming innocence. Well, in her defense, it’s a stressful job.” He shrugged at his mom’s disapproving look. “Three robberies committed by three separate people with no previous records. None have been seen since. A gardener attacks the people he works for with a garden hoe and leaves them for dead. They’re in the local hospital in serious condition. The gardener was found dead the next day, his wrists slit to the bone. And last but not least, a shop owner pulls a gun and shoots up his own shop, including injuring three customers. Then he flees. Now he’s claiming he never even went in to work that day. So I repeat; what the hell?”

“They do seem like they are under the influence of something.” Cas commented.

“Yeah, but not our murder/suicide ghost.” Dean replied.

“It don’t seem likely.” Bobby agreed.

“Cas thinks there might be more than one ghost.” Dean’s dad informed them.

“It’s possible.” Mary nodded.

“Not really.” Dean commented. “Look, we’d need one other ghost responsible for the rape. One for the robberies. And the three assaults were very different so it’s not likely that they were committed by the same spirit, but even if they were, that would make three ghosts besides the one killing people. Do you know how unlikely it is that there are four spirits in the same town possessing people and driving them to commit crimes and then sometimes off themselves?”

Bobby sighed. “He ain’t wrong. And I know what yer thinking, but it ain’t a demon. While they may do this kinda stuff just fer fun, they’d also be leavin’ signs. And I tell ya, there’s no signs.”

“Could there be a reason that so many spirits are suddenly possessing people?” Mary asked. “Something compelling them to do so?”

“It is possible.” Cas answered, turning to Dean. “We’ve seen something similar. The Rising of the Witnesses.”

“Of course!” Dean exclaimed. “I mean, obviously this isn’t the same thing ‘cause the Witnesses weren’t possessing people, but you’re right, Cas. The ghosts were controlled then. And there was that other time too. With Osiris. He was forcing spirits to kill the people responsible for their deaths.” Dean closed his eyes briefly, not wanting to think about Jo standing there, forced to kill him against her own will. It didn’t matter anymore. She was just a toddler now, still alive and happy. “It’s possible that there’s some sort of outside force here, raising or controlling spirits.”

“Well tomorrow, while yer all out investigating, I’ll start going through my books to see if I can find anything that matches up.” Bobby offered.

“Sounds good.” John agreed.

“If they are being controlled by something, are we going to have to do the salt and burns, or just go after the controller?” Dean’s mom questioned.

“Depends on what it is.” Dean responded. “I mean, the thing behind it, whatever it is, if it even exists, will have to be stopped or it’ll just keep raising more ghosts. But who knows if that’ll be enough to put the already restless spirits to rest. We may have to salt and burn the bodies of the ones that are already around as well.”

“We will know more tomorrow.” Cas announced. “For now, we should rest. You are looking unwell, Dean.”

The young hunter rolled his eyes. Leave it to the angel to pick up on what he’d been trying to hide from everyone. “Yeah, I guess I’m a bit tired. We got in a little late last night and I was up early this morning.”

His dad clapped his hands together once. “Then let’s all get some sleep.”

After exchanging their goodnight wishes, the extended Winchester family went to their separate rooms. Dean flopped down on his bed, careful not to wake up Sammy who was fast asleep in the bed across the room. Cas sat down and placed a hand gently on his forehead. 

“Where to tonight, Cas?”

“I was thinking that we could go bowling.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Whatever. It’s your turn to pick, after all.” Dean replied with a shrug. After a while he’d realized that it wasn’t fair that Cas was stuck doing only the activities that Dean chose every night, so he had started a system where they traded off making the decisions. “But I’m not wearing the dorky bowling shoes.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

The next day they took separate cars into town. Mary and Dean had gone one way to get to the town’s library and while John had driven Castiel the opposite way. They had spent the morning questioning witnesses, but as noon was drawing nearer and their list was not dwindling nearly enough, the hunter had decided that splitting up was probably the most efficient idea. Castiel had agreed and had taken one of the long-range walkie-talkies they had brought to keep in touch. It was strange, before coming back to this decade with Dean, he had just gotten used to cell phones and now he was adjusting to not using them. 

Castiel mentally checked another name off of his list. Next up was the neighbor who had seen Mr. Keller leave his girlfriend’s house the night of the murder. John had gone to the police holding cells to talk with Mr. Keller himself. 

The angel ended up walking past the street that housed the police station to reach his destination and was a bit surprised to see the Impala still parked there. Surely John hadn’t been questioning a single suspect all this time? Castiel walked over to the vehicle and peered inside. Nothing seemed out of place, but he had a feeling that something was wrong. Using the spare set of keys he had been given, the angel opened the trunk and felt a sense of unease begin to creep in. The small emergency bag that they had begun to carry on all their hunts since the disaster a year and a half ago was missing. Inside the small black bag was anything they’d need if they were forced to face opponents from either side of the apocalypse: the Colt, the knife, holy water, salt, and even a small jar of holy oil. For it to be missing indicated that there might be something big going on. But why wouldn’t John have called him?

Just then, static rang out from the walkie-talkie. “Castiel? Are you there?”

“Yes. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Sort of. I only have a minute. I’m with Officer Wells and just stepped away to contact you. We’re in the sewers right now.”

“Why?”

“I have him convinced of the cult story, but I think whatever’s controlling the spirits is digging up and moving the bones so we can’t salt and burn them. I found at least three bodies worth down here. Very old, too. I think some of the others might have been moved into condemned buildings around town.”

“Do you know yet what is controlling them?” Castiel questioned, wondering if that was why John had retrieved the emergency bag. If it were a demon, they’d have to get Dean back to Bobby’s as soon as possible.

“No. Not yet. But I’m not too far to the north of the police station and I need you to get down here. Give me about five minutes and I’ll make up some excuse to get Wells away from here. Take care of these bones and then meet me by the car afterwards, okay?”

“Won’t the officer question what happened to the evidence?”

“I’ll think of something to tell him. Blame it on the cult, right? Damn, he’s coming back. I gotta go, Cas. Five minutes, okay?”

The line went dead. Something seemed off. Maybe John knew more than he was saying. Or maybe something was affecting John. Or he was in distress. Or perhaps it was just as the hunter had said and the police officer was nearby, preventing John from disclosing any information. Either way, Castiel was going to go in carefully. That meant walking in rather than just transporting. 

The angel appeared just below the spot he was standing and started walking quietly to the north. He reached into his coat and pulled out his angel sword. Castiel didn’t use it much. On most hunts it would be considered overkill and if any other hunters ever saw it and recognized it for what it was, there would be many questions that the Winchesters would not be able to answer. But if John felt that he needed the emergency bag, then maybe Castiel needed to take some extra precautions himself. 

The angel crept through the sewers, thinking over the current hunt. It was an ingenious plan. Raise the spirits to do your bidding. Have them possess people, commit atrocities, and kill their hosts, thus creating panic and possibly fulfilling some sort of ritual. All the while, whoever was in charge was gathering the bones of the raised spirits and hiding them to protect them from any hunters that might try to stop their plans. But who was behind it and what was their endgame?

Castiel slowed as he heard John’s voice coming from close by.

“We can bring a team back later to properly record everything and take pictures of the bones. We’ve made notes and marked the area. Standing around longer isn’t going to do anything but waste our time. You already said that you thought that factory was a good spot to search for more, so I say we check it out. C’mon.”

The angel held still as he heard footsteps walk off. Then he slipped around the corner and looked around. He was certain that this was where he’d heard John’s voice come from, but he didn’t see any bones. Wait. There. On the ground was a large tarp that looked like the type he’d seen used to cover bodies at crime scenes. Castiel started walking towards it when a voice stopped him.

“Cas!”

He started to turn towards the sound of John’s urgent voice, but something connected with his head. The angel went down to one knee, his sword falling from his hand and sliding a few feet away. Castiel blinked a few times and shook his head to clear his vision. He dimly heard someone strike a match and then saw a ring of fire form around himself. Fire set on holy oil. Castiel was trapped and his angel blade was out of his reach.


	59. Not Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: minor mental and extensive physical abuse/torture in this chapter

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Not Dad

Mary’s eyes were aching as she stared at the screen of the microfiche machine for almost the sixth hour straight. It wouldn’t be so bad if she’d found even one lead, but so far the hunter had had no luck at all. She wanted to take a break, but the library was going to be closed tomorrow, so there was no time to waste. Mary reached into her purse and pulled out a granola bar. That would have to make do for lunch. 

She looked over to where her son was sitting at a table going over old newspapers with his walkman blasting rock music into his ears at a volume that she’d continually told him was too loud. Mary had been questioned a few times about her young boy being in the media room with her, reading the papers, and responded that he was incredibly smart for his age and was working on a project for school to qualify him to skip to the forth grade. The librarian had praised Dean and given him a lollipop for being such an intelligent and well-behaved child. And after all these hours, Mary was quite impressed that Dean was still behaving himself. Seven year old bodies were not made to sit still that long and Dean had only gotten up to use the bathroom or get more papers. Sure he sometimes fidgeted, made obnoxious little noises, and once she had caught him shooting an elastic band across the room, but still, it was far better than she’d expected.

“Anything yet?” Mary quietly asked, after she’d waved her hand to catch his attention.

“I haven’t found crap.” Dean replied, slipping the earphones from his ears.

“Language, Dean. We’re in public.” Just because no one was currently in the room with them didn’t mean they could let their guards down. He needed to act like a normal child.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever. No, there’s nothing that matches any of the things we’re looking for. I’m starting to think that we’re looking in the wrong direction.”

“We don’t have another direction to look.” She reminded him. 

“Not one we that want to look in.” He shot back.

“There’s no omens, Dean.”

“Maybe the demons are just getting sneaky.” He shrugged.

That was something Mary didn’t even want to consider. Their conversation was cut off as someone walked into the room. She turned to see her husband entering. Mary smiled at him.

“Hi.”

“Hey, honey.”

“What’s up?” She asked. They weren’t supposed to meet until dinnertime and it was only time for lunch.

“I need to borrow Dean for a little while if it’s okay.”

“Why? I thought you were interviewing witnesses.”

“Yeah. First off, I thought he could use some lunch. A cheeseburger and fries would probably fill him a bit more than a granola bar.” He gestured to the snack that she was still holding. When he continued, he’d lowered his voice so that no one would be able to overhear them. “I think a kid in the area might’ve seen something and she might talk to Dean more readily than me. So, I was going to have him come along with me. I’ll drop him back off here when we’re done.”

Mary thought it over. That approach had worked in the past and it would give Dean an opportunity to move around a bit. “If it’s okay with Dean, then he can go.”

“Sounds great.” Dean hopped up and grabbed his backpack from the table. “See you in a bit, Mom.” He kissed her on the cheek and then ran to his dad’s side. 

Mary waved goodbye to her husband and son before turning back to her work. She prayed that she found something soon.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean was thrilled to step out of the stuffy library and into the fresh air. He’d forced himself to sit still and concentrate on the research but to be honest he hadn’t been good at doing that when he was in an adult body and being physically seven didn’t make it any easier. It was like something inside of himself called to him to run and jump and just go wild sometimes. But of course he kept those impulses under control as best he could, letting them out while training and hunting so as not to come off as an actual child to the adults around him. 

“So Dad, I was thinking we could try that diner that we passed by on the way into town.”

“Sure.”

“Is Cas gonna eat with us?” Dean looked towards the Impala to see if the angel was there. He wasn’t.

“No, Cas is busy.”

“He’s still questioning witnesses?”

“Yeah.”

Something was off. Dean couldn’t put a finger on what it was, but his dad was just… wrong. His tone, the way he was saying his words, the complete lack of affection in his voice, everything. And back in the library… Dad hadn’t kissed Mom goodbye or ruffled Dean’s hair like he usually did. Dean had learned long ago to trust his instincts and they were screaming at him that something was terribly wrong. 

“Well, his loss. Guess it’s just you and me then.” Dean glanced around and saw that the street was deserted. Not unusual for a small town, but inconvenient if something bad was going to happen. His unease was growing and he really just wanted to get back inside. 

“Just you and me, Dean.” And there was something so sinister about the way that his dad said that. Or maybe it was just the way that Dean heard it because he _knew_ that something was wrong.

Dean did his best not to react. He walked forwards as if everything was fine but as he approached the Impala, the boy smacked himself on the forehead. “Crap! I left my notebook in the media room. And not the one that Mom’s in. I gotta go back and get it. If that librarian reads my notes about the murders and ghosts and stuff, we’re in trouble.” Dean turned and started back towards the library. Towards safety. 

He thought he’d pulled it off, that he was home free, up until he heard the footsteps right behind him. They were closer than they really needed to be. And Dean knew. He knew that he’d been figured out. So he dropped all pretense and broke into a run. But he hadn’t gotten more than a couple of steps when something hard came down across the back of his head and pain exploded through his skull. The pavement rushed to meet him, but darkness greeted him first.

Dean jerked awake from his memories of Hell and the first thing he saw was Bobby’s living room wall. And it was remarkably blurry. Wait, no. It was just his vision that was blurry. Why was his vision blurry? Oh yeah, getting hit in the head tended to do that to a guy. It was all coming back. But how did he get back to Bobby’s house? And why was he tied to a chair?

Whoa! Back up there a moment. Dean looked down at himself. Sure enough, he was sitting in one of Bobby’s kitchen chairs with his arms secured behind him by a piece of rope and his legs tied to the chair legs. A length of the rope was wrapped around his thighs and the seat of the chair, keeping them tightly in place. Dean struggled a bit, just on principle, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get free. 

“Well, well. Look who’s awake. Good thing I got you tied up so quick. Wouldn’t want you scampering off before we could have some quality father/son time.”

“You’re not my dad.” Dean growled out, looking up as his dad entered the room. No. It was as Dean had just said. If his dad was possessed by something, then whatever was saying and doing these things was not his dad.

Not-Dad raised his hand and smacked Dean hard across the face. “That’s no way to speak to your father, you ungrateful brat.”

“You’re not my dad.” Dean repeated. “You’re just whatever is possessing him.”

“Possessed?” Not-Dad laughed. “You’d like to believe that, wouldn’t you? That I’m being controlled and that it’s not the fact that I’ve just had enough of dealing with having such a pathetic screw-up for a son.” Not-Dad punched Dean hard in the stomach, making the boy cry out and double over as much as his restraints would allow. “Think about it, Dean. I had a perfect life until you came back to this time and ruined everything.” Not-Dad back-handed Dean across the face, splitting the boy’s lip. “I put up with you for two and a half years now, but I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. You’re ruining my life, Dean. We’ll all be better off with you dead.” Not-Dad kicked him in the chest and the chair tipped over with the force of the blow. Dean’s head smacked into the floor. He let out another cry of pain.

As the boy lay on the ground staring at the ceiling, something occurred to him and made his blood run cold. “Where’s Sammy? And Bobby? What did you do with them? If you’ve hurt them…”

“They’re locked down in the panic room. It’s nice that Bobby made it so that it can be easily converted into a prison if need be.” Not-Dad grabbed Dean by his shirt and pulled him and the chair back upright. “I can’t have them stopping me from dealing with you, now can I, son?”

“You’re not my dad.” Dean repeated.

Not-Dad rolled his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to prove that I’m your daddy then, huh?” He went over to a shelf and grabbed one of Bobby’s bottles of holy water. He unscrewed the cap and drank a third of the bottle. “Ah. Delicious.”

“Wouldn’t hurt a ghost.” Dean shot back.

“Oh, clever little hunter. Or so you like to think you are. But the truth is that you’re as dumb as a bag of bricks. Big disappointment. You know, it’s actually a good thing that I got to meet you now. I don’t have to waste thirty years raising you before realizing what a loser you grow up to be.”

Dean tried to ignore the words. The spirit was just trying to get to him. But then again, maybe the ghost was reading his dad’s real thoughts and using them against him. “You don’t know me or my dad.” The boy insisted, with more conviction than he actually felt. 

“I am your dad, Dean. And this will prove it.” Not-Dad held up a container of salt. As Dean watched, the man opened the container and poured the condiment out and into his open mouth. A spirit would’ve been expelled by that act. But nothing happened. “See, Dean. No possession. Just a father who is sick of having a piece of crap like you masquerading as a son.” 

Dean watched in horror as his dad… no, there had to be some other explanation because his dad would never do this to him… undid his belt and pulled it off. Then he swung it and the leather strap caught Dean across his chest. The boy screamed in pain. The next blow hit Dean’s legs. This time the small hunter bit down on his tongue to stop himself from making noise. That only worked until the fifth time when Dean couldn’t help but let out an agonized sob. 

His crying was echoed by a cruel laugh. “Aww, has the little baby had enough? Too bad.” 

Dean watched the belt drop to the ground. He stared at the object. It was a thin, black leather belt. Dean had never seen it before. His dad always wore a beat up old brown leather belt that was quite a bit wider. Where had he gotten that one?

Dean looked up at Not-Dad. “You’re not my dad.”

“You’re in denial.”

“Where’s Cas.”

“I killed him.”

Dean snorted. “No you didn’t.”

Not-Dad smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. He walked over to the table and picked up Cas’ angel blade. It was stained with blood. “Wrong again, kiddo.” 

Dean stared at it and felt the tears that he’d just managed to stop come to his eyes again. No. No, Cas couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be. “No.” He whispered.

“Oh yeah. Surprised him from behind, trapped him in a ring of blazing holy oil, and then, before I cut him apart, I let him know that I was killing him because of you. You got him killed, Dean. Couldn’t have him rushing to your rescue.” Not-Dad swung the blade and it sliced open a good four inches of Dean’s left leg. 

Dean screamed in agony. When he got his breathing back under control, he glared at Not-Dad. “I’m gonna get free and I’m gonna kill you.”

“Kill your own father?”

“YOU ARE NOT MY DAD!” Dean screamed.

Not-Dad chuckled. Then he proceeded to punch Dean over and over again. The hits rained down on the boy’s tiny body, each blending into the one before. Dean felt the impacts on his head, face, chest, stomach, arms, legs, every last inch of himself. After what seemed like forever, the man finally stopped. “Yes, I am. And you will show me respect.”

“Screw you.”

Not-Dad back-handed him across the face.

Dean spit out a mouthful of blood. “Sorry. Screw you, sir.”

Not-Dad sneered at him and picked up the angel blade. Dean was fighting to stay conscious by this point. His head was ringing and he was in incredible pain. He was also trying to ignore the fact that it seemed like it was his own father that had done this to him. Sure, in his original timeline his dad had pushed him around a bit when he’d screw-up, or would smack him for insubordination, but never would the man have done anything close to this. And now, in this timeline, his dad would never even dream of hurting him. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t, no matter how bad things looked right now. Dean had to believe that something more was going on. But what?

_Think, Dean. Think._ The belt wasn’t Dad’s. Dean looked at him again, through his swiftly swelling eyes. The pants weren’t right, either. Too designer-looking. The shirt was Dad’s, though. And so was everything else. The face, hair, eyes, skin… Oh, god! That was it!

“You’re not possessed!” Dean blurted out.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

“You’re a shifter.”


	60. I Scared

Chapter Sixty: I Scared

Sammy pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his tiny arms around them, buried his head in them, and cried. But even his sobs couldn’t stop him from hearing Dean’s screams of pain. The little boy rocked back and forth on the uncomfortable bed. Dean was in pain. That wasn’t good. Poor Dean. And he’d already had a bad booboo on his head when Daddy had carried him into Uncle Bobby’s house before… before… Sammy started crying harder.

_Sammy had been sitting on the living room floor playing with some of Dean’s old Matchbox cars when he heard the Impala pull up. He’d been surprised because he’d been told that no one was gonna be back until dinner and he’d just finished his lunch. Then the door had opened and Daddy ran in holding Dean like Sammy had seen Mommies hold their babies. Sammy had gotten up and saw blood in Dean’s hair._

_“Bobby!” Daddy yelled. “Bobby, get your ass in here! Dean’s been hurt!”_

_“Booboo?” Sammy asked._

_“Yeah, Dean has a booboo.” Daddy said._

_Uncle Bobby ran into the room. “Aw crap, what happened, John? He was supposed to be doing research.”_

_“Let’s get him patched up and then we can talk.” Daddy said._

_Sammy tried to get close to see how bad Dean’s booboo was. Daddy put Dean down on the couch. But when Uncle Bobby turned to walk away, something scary happened. Daddy picked up one of the smelly, green glass bottles that Uncle Bobby liked to drink from and hit Uncle Bobby over the head with it. Uncle Bobby fell to the floor and then Daddy kicked him in the head. Sammy had started to cry and Daddy yelled at him to shut up or he’d be next. Sammy then ran to Dean. Dean was sleeping on the couch and wouldn’t wake up, probably because of his bad booboo, but Sammy knew that even if Dean was sleeping he’d keep Sammy safe. Sammy watched Daddy drag Bobby away and then Daddy came back and picked him up and carried him away from Dean. Sammy had cried and begged to stay with Dean but Daddy had carried him downstairs and had thrown him in this small, gray room. Uncle Bobby was sleeping on the floor with a booboo on his head and Sammy sat next to him crying. After a few minutes, Uncle Bobby woke up and said lots of words that Mommy always told Sammy never to say. Sammy had then gone to sit on the uncomfortable bed. He was scared. But he got even more scared a few minutes ago when he heard Dean start to scream._

Now Sammy picked his head up long enough to wipe his leaking nose on his arm. Then he wiped his arm on his pants. Mommy always told him not to do it, to use a tissue, but he didn’t have a tissue. Besides, Dean did it too sometimes. Dean. Dean was hurt. Sammy needed to be with Dean. He wanted to kiss Dean’s booboos and make them better. And most of all he wanted Dean to keep him safe. Because Sammy didn’t feel safe at all. 

And something was bugging him.

“Unca Bobby?”

“Yes, Sammy?”

“Why Daddy hit you?” Daddy never hit people. Well, there was that one time that Sammy had tried to touch the stove and Daddy slapped his hand away and told him it was hot. But that hadn’t given Sammy a booboo. 

“That ain’t yer Daddy.”

Sammy didn’t understand. “Yes he is.”

“Nah. That’s just a bad man. He’s…” Uncle Bobby muttered something that Sammy could barely hear but it sounded like ‘How do ya explain possession to a three year old?’ and Sammy didn’t know what he was talking about. But then Uncle Bobby spoke louder again “He’s wearing a mask to make himself look like yer daddy.”

“A mask? Like Hall’wee?”

“Just like on Halloween.” Uncle Bobby said. “See the bad man did very mean stuff and now is hiding from the cops by pretending to be yer daddy.”

“He hurt Dean?”

Uncle Bobby sat next to Sammy and put an arm around him. “Yeah, but don’t worry. Dean’ll be okay.”

But then Dean screamed again. Sammy started crying again, even harder. “Dean!” He wailed.

“Yer brother’s gonna be okay.” Uncle Bobby said.

“I want Dean!” Sammy cried.

“I know, kiddo. I know.”

And then Sammy heard Dean’s voice. But he wasn’t screaming in pain. He was yelling words. “Shifter! It’s a freakin’ shifter!” 

“Sonofabitch!” Bobby exclaimed.

“What?” Sammy asked

“Shhh, Sammy ya gotta be quiet.” Uncle Bobby told him. “I think Dean’s talkin’ to me.”

“Okay.” Sammy nodded. If Dean was talking to them, Sammy would try to be quiet and listen.

Dean’s voice yelled again a moment later. “Dad’s still gotta be alive! In the sewers! Ahhhhh!” 

Sammy started to rock back and forth again as Dean’s words became screaming again. Uncle Bobby pulled him into his lap and held him tightly. It was nice but Sammy would rather have Dean.

“Bobby!” Dean yelled. “Code lock box! Code…” 

Then there was a loud noise like something had fallen over and more screams. Sammy started crying again. “Dean! Dean! I want Dean!” 

“Code lock box?” Uncle Bobby asked. “What the hell, Dean. I can’t do code lock box without you. I’m too damn big. We designed that escape hatch with you in mind. What are you thinking? Unless…” 

Sammy looked up to see Uncle Bobby looking down at him. “I want Dean.” Sammy whimpered.

“Dean, you can’t be serious.” Uncle Bobby shook his head. “But it might be the only way and yer hardly ever wrong.”

Sammy wondered what Uncle Bobby was saying. “Unca Bobby?”

“Sammy, I need you to do something for Dean, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna write a note and give it ta ya. And then I’m gonna show ya a special way outta here. It’s kinds like the ladders and crawl spaces ya go in at the playground with Dean. Yer gonna go through and it’s gonna take ya outside. Yer gonna wait until ya see yer mama’s car and yer gonna go to her and give her the note. Don’t let her come inside. Ya got it?”

“Come wit me?”

“I’m too big to fit in the tunnel, Sammy. You gotta do it by yerself.”

“I scared.” Sammy said, starting to cry again.

“I know, boy. But this is the only way to help Dean.”

“Okay.” Sammy bit his lip.

Uncle Bobby pulled a pen and small notebook out of his shirt pocket and started writing. Then he tore the page out and folded it in half. Uncle Bobby put the note in Sammy’s pants’ pocket. Then he moved the bed over to the corner of the room. Sammy watched Uncle Bobby climb up on the bed and run his hands over the wall. After a minute he removed part of it. Uncle Bobby had been right. The only two people that would be able to crawl in there were Dean and Sammy. But it was dark in there and Sammy was scared.

“Don’t wanna go in there.” He cried. “I scared.”

“Sammy, if yer mama comes here, the bad man is gonna give her booboos too. And he’s gonna keep hurtin’ Dean. And he’s gonna hurt you too.”

“Why?” Sammy cried.

“’Cause he’s bad.”

“Don’t like him. I want Dean.”

“You do this, and yer mama’s gonna be able ta get to yer daddy and Cas and they’ll get Dean back fer ya. And Dean’ll be so happy that I’m sure he’ll even let ya sleep in his bed with him tonight.”

“You think?” Sammy asked. He liked sleeping with Dean. Dean would put an arm around him and keep him safe.

“’Course he will.”

Sammy looked back into the dark tunnel. “Dark. I scared.”

Uncle Bobby sighed. Then he snapped his fingers. “I got an idea.” 

Sammy watched as he pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on. Sammy grabbed for it.

“Light!”

“Not so fast, kiddo. Ya can’t hold onto it and climb on out of here. Yer gonna need both of yer hands. Wait a sec, okay?”

Sammy nodded. Uncle Bobby took an old dirty cloth out of his back pocket and walked over to Sammy. He used the cloth to tie the flashlight to Sammy’s wrist. Sammy waved his arm around happily. It was pretty neat. ‘Awesome’ as Dean would say. 

“There ya go. That should help light yer way.”

“Thanks, Unca Bobby.” Sammy hugged him.

Uncle Bobby lifted the boy up and Sammy reached into the tunnel and grabbed onto the ladder. It was kind of like the stuff in the playgrounds but Sammy was never scared in the playgrounds. Dean was always with him there. Dean wasn’t here now. Dean was being hurt now and Sammy was alone and it was a little dark and there was a bad man that had hit Uncle Bobby. This wasn’t fun like the playgrounds were. But Sammy would do it for Dean. And then Dean would be better and would keep him safe and play with him and make everything better just like he always did. 

“When you get to the top, turn the knob like a regular door and crawl through. Then wait in the bushes ‘til you see yer mama’s car. Run to her and give her the note. Don’t let her come inside. Got it?” Uncle Bobby quietly called to him.

“Yeah.” Sammy said.

He could do it. He was small, but so was Dean and Dean did stuff all the time. Dean went to school, and helped Dad and Mom, and fixed cars, and read, and took care of Sammy, and cooked, and was just great. So Sammy could do this. Sammy could be like Dean.

When the ladder ended, there was a tunnel to crawl in. Sammy thought it was kind of like a playground. There were weird drawing in it, like in the room he was just in. Sammy crawled through and then had to climb another ladder. He was tired at the top but then the next tunnel was short and led to a little door with the doorknob. Sammy opened it and was outside. 

The little boy sat in the bushes near the house and tried not to cry. He was tired and scared. But Uncle Bobby told him to wait for Mommy to come back and Sammy couldn’t go back inside because of the bad man with the Daddy mask. Tears ran down his face when he heard Dean scream. Sammy put his thumb in his mouth and started to chew on it even though he’d been told not to do that. He was scared. Very scared. He wanted Dean. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary wasn’t sure whether to be pissed off or concerned. John had never brought Dean back to the library and she was left to complete the research all on her own. Of course, the research had gotten her nowhere, so maybe it was a good thing that they both hadn’t wasted their entire day, but still… And then, he’d not even stopped by to let her know that he was on his way back to Bobby’s. When Mary realized how late it had gotten, she’d called the salvage yard and John had picked up. He’d apologized but then had gotten off abruptly and with no explanation. She’d tried to call back but no one had picked up. So, with a sigh and a few muttered choice words, Mary had gotten in the car and started driving back.

As she got closer to Bobby’s though, she began to get a funny feeling that something was off. What if something had happened and John just didn’t want to tell her over the phone? Or what if they’d discovered that it was demons after all? She’d certainly found no evidence that it was ghosts in all her hours of research that day. Mary’s stomach was in knots by the time she parked the car in front of Bobby’s house. 

She got out and hadn’t even closed the car door when she saw Sammy run out from the bushes and come right at her.

“Sammy? What are you doing out here?”

“Mommy! Don’t go in!” He grabbed onto her leg. He turned his tearstained face up to her.

“Sammy, what’s wrong?”

“Mommy, bad man. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. The little boy handed it to her.

Mary took it from him and unfolded it. She recognized the writing as Bobby’s right away. It read: _Mary, Don’t come in the house. Shifter took John’s shape. I’m locked in panic room. Shifter has Dean and will kill him if you come in. Go find John and Castiel in sewers. –Bobby_

Mary put a hand to her mouth. A shifter. And he’d taken John’s shape. It had Dean. It took him from the library. She should’ve known. When he’d come to the library, John hadn’t kissed her, ruffled Dean’s hair, or done any of the normal John things. But she’d been distracted. And she’d let a monster walk off with her son. 

Mary picked Sammy up and placed him in the passenger side of the car. She couldn’t risk opening the backdoor and taking the time to strap him in. If the shifter caught on to what she was doing, it would come out to stop them and she had no weapons on her. Then she slid into the driver’s seat, closed the door, started the car and drove off. She had to get back to that town as fast as she could. She had to find her husband and Castiel. Then they’d go back and rescue Dean. She thought about all the other victims and prayed that her son would still be alive by the time they got back.


	61. Still Alive

Chapter Sixty-One: Still Alive

The sound of the car pulling up to Bobby’s house made Dean’s heart forget how to beat momentarily. This was it. His mom had just pulled up and either Bobby had understood his message earlier and Sammy was able to carry out their emergency plan or in just a moment the door was going to open and everything would go even further to Hell.

“You hear that, Dean?” The shifter asked. “Your mommy’s home. You know what that means? Your time is up. When she walks through that door, she’ll see her husband with this knife to her son’s throat. And I’ll be holding your annoying mouth shut, so don’t think you’ll be warning her about what’s going on. I’ll tell her to step a bit closer and when she does, I’ll take her down and tie her up. Then, I’ll cut you into pieces right in front of her. Little Sammy will be next. And then I’ll start on her. Maybe I’ll have some fun with her first. After all, I _am_ her husband.” He smiled wickedly.

“You’re not going to lay a single finger on her, you sick bastard.”

The shifter pressed the knife into Dean’s throat, drawing a tiny bit of blood. “And who’s going to stop me, screw up? You?”

“Hey, I’m not the one so pathetic that I have to hide behind other people’s faces, loser.” Yeah, okay, maybe antagonizing the monster that was torturing you wasn’t the most intelligent move in the world, but Dean couldn’t help himself. And calling the shifter out on what it was helped to remind the boy that this wasn’t his father that was beating on him. 

Dean could see that the shifter was considering beating him right then and there, even though any noise would potentially tip off his mom that something was going on inside of the house, but then they heard the car door close and the vehicle start up again. A confused expression passed over Dean’s father’s features at the same time that the small hunter let out a sigh of relief. His mom was safe and the only way that she’d have known to leave is if Sammy had gotten out, so that meant that he was safe as well. 

“What the hell?” The shifter left Dean’s side and moved over to the window to look out. “Where is she going?”

“Away from you, freak.” Dean replied, smugly.

“How did she know?” The shifter stormed over to Dean and grabbed him by his small shoulders. The monster shook the boy roughly. “How?” 

“Maybe she smelled your nasty sewer stink?”

Dean got a punch in the face for his comment. He groaned and spit out some blood. He panicked when he looked down and saw a small red and white tooth in the puddle of blood. The boy ran his tongue over his teeth and was relieved when he realized that the tooth that had gotten knocked out was a baby tooth that had recently begun to loosen. He’d really have been pissed if the damned shifter had knocked out one of his two adult teeth. 

“What did you do?” The shifter screamed in his face.

“Me?” Dean choked out through swollen lips. “Dude, I’m tied to a chair and being beaten by an asshole? What could I have done?”

The shifter stared at him. “You called something down to the other hunter earlier. You told him what I was and said code something. What was it?”

Dean glared at the shifter but said nothing.

“Answer me or I’ll go down there and skin your little baby brother.”

Dean smiled at the shifter but still kept quiet. The monster growled and pushed the young hunter so violently that the chair tipped over. Dean crashed to the ground. He cried out in pain as all his injuries seemed to be jarred at the same exact moment. From his new position on the ground, the boy watched the shifter turn and leave the room. 

Dean tugged at his restraints and felt the back of the chair give. One more pull and the whole thing broke off in a rain of wooden splinters. It seemed that the shifter had been a bit too rough on Bobby’s old furniture. Dean twisted and scrambled and a moment later he was free of the pieces of the chair and his still tied hands were now in front of him. Realistically, the boy knew that he stood no chance against the shifter, but he had to do something besides sit there and take more beatings. 

Dean forced his bruised and battered legs to support his weight as he struggled to his feet. He was gasping for air by the time he had achieved even that small goal, but failure wasn’t an option. His ribs ached and his head was spinning but Dean was determined to survive this. Maybe he could find a weapon? That would even the odds a bit.

Dean limped into the kitchen and snatched up a knife. He used it first to cut himself free of the ropes that bound his wrists and then held it out in front of himself as he looked around for a gun. That would be a much better weapon. He wished that he could just run out the front door and hide somewhere until help arrived, but Dean knew that the shifter would then likely just kill Bobby out of rage and the boy could never do that to his friend. 

The small hunter heard footsteps coming back up from downstairs. He hid behind the doorway and clutched the knife tightly in his hands. It wasn’t silver and thus wouldn’t kill the shifter, but Dean didn’t even care. He was going to fight the son of a bitch with all he had the next time the monster tried to lay a hand on him.

“So you conspired to get your bratty little brother out to warn your mommy, huh? You think that’s going to stop me, Dean? She’ll be back for you and I’ll…” His voice stopped abruptly. Dean assumed that the shifter had noticed the boy’s disappearance. “Dean! Come on out, boy! Come out now! You listen to your father! If you make me wait, it’ll only be worse on you, boy!”

Dean rolled his eyes. Right, cause getting his ass kicked was incentive to go out there.

“If you don’t come out right now, I’m going to go back downstairs and shoot the old man. You know I will.”

Yeah, Dean had figured that. But there was some good news. The shifter had a gun. If Dean could get his hands on it, he might stand a chance. He could blow the shifter’s knee caps out. That would slow the bastard down. 

“All right!” Dean called. “I give up!” 

He stayed hidden behind the doorway, hoping to lure the shifter to step close enough to ambush. He heard the monster come closer and tensed, ready to pounce. But then the small hunter looked down and saw a major flaw in his plan. A large pool a blood was spreading out from where he stood, adding to the trail he’d left behind from the moment he’d gotten free. Dean hadn’t even realized that the gash in his leg left behind from Cas’ angel blade was dripping blood the whole time. If the shifter noticed it too…

A hand darted around the corner of the doorway and snatched Dean’s shirt. The boy let out a cry of surprise as he was dragged forwards and lifted into the air. He found himself at eye level with the monster that looked exactly like his dad. Dean narrowed his swollen eyes and stabbed the shifter in the neck. The thing screamed in pain and rage and threw the boy across the room. Dean hit the floor and rolled several times. He moaned and tried to push himself up onto his hands and knees. The first three attempts were miserable failures, and by the time he succeeded there were feet right near him. 

Dean tried to crawl away but a snapping sound was the only warning he got before he felt the leather of the belt bite into his back. 

“You’ll pay for that, you worthless piece of crap!”

Dean was certain he was screaming but he refused to beg for the monster to stop. He had no clue how many blows he took before his body could take no more and darkness descended on him once again. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary parked the car a block away from the police station and looked over at Sammy who’d fallen asleep just a few minutes ago. She knew that she was going to have to take him with her into the sewers, but wished that she could let him get a bit more rest. The little boy had been through a lot. She was relieved that he didn’t seem to be hurt at all, just very scared. He’d kept talking about a bad man and saying that Dean had a booboo. And he’d insisted that he wanted Dean. Mary promised him that they’d get Dean very soon. She prayed that she’d be able to make good on that promise. 

On the drive into town, Mary had thought long and hard on how to find her husband. She knew that she didn’t have the time to search through the entire sewer system. Then she remembered him mentioning that he was going to be heading to the police station first thing to speak with the only living murder suspect. Mary knew that by the time ‘John’ had shown up at the library that that had been the shifter. In between, there had to be time for the shifter to have ambushed John, shifted into him, set up a trap and somehow have taken out Castiel as well (or the angel would have shown up already), and then get to the library to take Dean. That would’ve taken hours, so the shifter would’ve had to have made a grab for John not long after they got into town, making it likely that he was attacked around the area of his first stop. So Mary was going to go into the sewers near the police station and check in that area first. 

She got out of the car and knelt down by the manhole. With a grunt of exertion the hunter pried it open. Then she went around the car, opening the door and carefully extracting Sammy. Mary held him tightly and he mumbled something into her shoulder.

“It’s okay, baby. Just sleep.” She told him.

It was very difficult climbing down one handed, but Mary managed. When her feet touched the bottom, she released her hold on the ladder rungs and adjusted her grip on Sammy. Then she pulled out her small penlight and turned it on. She started walking through the tunnels, trying to ignore the damp, sticky air and the pungent odor. She was definitely going to need to bathe Sammy when she got back to Bobby’s.

After she’d walked a little while, Mary saw a flickering glow coming from up ahead. Cautiously, she approached, aware that she was unarmed and carrying a toddler. The hunter prayed that the shifter was working alone because if she ran into any trouble, things were not going to end well. But when she turned the corner, her eyes widened and she let out a gasp. 

Castiel lay on his side, curled up and bloodied in a circle of fire. He wasn’t moving and Mary feared for a moment that he was dead. 

“Castiel?” She called.

The angel stirred slightly and lifted his head. His eyes opened momentarily but then they slid closed and he resumed his unconscious state once again. Mary stepped closer to the flames. She knew that it must’ve been lit on a circle of holy oil. The area they were in was mostly dry and the fire would potentially burn forever if no one came to put it out. Mary looked around but saw no signs of her husband. Then her eyes found the tarp on the ground that was covering a human sized shape. Her heart started to beat faster. It wasn’t moving. Maybe the shifter had killed him. No. The shifter would need to keep John alive if it wanted to maintain a psychic connection and access the man’s memories. So her husband had to be alive. 

She slowly walked towards the tarp covered body, praying that he wasn’t dead. There was always the chance that the shifter hadn’t killed him right away but that the injuries he’d sustained had led him to bleed out in the hours since he’d been left behind. _Stop it!_ Mary scolded herself. Thinking up worst case scenarios wasn’t going to help. She needed to uncover her husband and give him any medical attention he needed. Then she’d use the tarp to smother the flames around Castiel and she’d find out how seriously he was wounded. Then they could go and rescue her son and kill the goddamned son of a bitch that had caused all this in the first place.

Mary grabbed the tarp with her free hand and pulled it off of her husband’s body. She jumped back in surprise as the man used his bound legs to try and sweep her feet out from under her. His eyes widened as he saw who she was and then narrowed in suspicion. Mary knew what he was thinking.

“No, John. It’s me. It’s really me.”

He gave her a skeptical look, but the gag in his mouth prevented him from saying anything. Mary looked him over. His arms were tied behind his back and his legs were tightly bound. The shifter had used quite a bit of rope to make certain that the hunter wouldn’t get free. John’s jacket and t-shirt were missing, leaving him in just his jeans and undershirt. His hair was caked with dried blood, but other than that, he seemed unharmed. Mary approached him slowly.

“I’m holding Sammy, so don’t attack me again. I’m going to cut you free.”

When she got close enough, Mary pulled the gag from her husband’s mouth.

“Why the hell’d you bring Sammy?”

“I could’ve left him at Bobby’s with the shifter if you think that would’ve been better.” Mary replied, taking her jacket off and laying it on the ground. Then she gently placed Sammy on the clothing. The toddler stirred and called out Dean’s name in his sleep before settling again.

“The shifter’s at Bobby’s?”

“Yeah.” Mary nodded and pulled out her swiss army knife. She unfolded the small blade and got to work on her husband’s bindings. “I don’t know the full story. The shifter came to the library looking like you earlier and took Dean. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Is Dean…”

“I don’t know how he is. I got back to the house to find Sammy outside with a note from Bobby telling me that the shifter was in the house with Dean and that Bobby was trapped in the panic room. I was instructed to come find you and Castiel. I had no weapons to fight the shifter so I came here.”

“You did the right thing.” John assured her.

Mary nodded, but she still wished that she could’ve somehow have take Dean with her too. Leaving him behind hurt. She cut through one of the ropes and pulled it off. Damn. The shifter had used several ropes so that she’d have to cut through them one at a time. And each minute that passed seemed like an eternity. She just hoped that once John was free they’d be able to wake Castiel and that he’d be well enough to transport them back to the house to save Dean. If not, it would be another twenty minute hike and an hour drive back to the house and she doubted that her son would be alive by the time their rescue party arrived.


	62. My Own Worst Enemy

Chapter Sixty-Two: My Own Worst Enemy

Dean was desperately trying to claw his way back out of Hell. He was being pulled back in, being hung by chains with large hooks that pierced his skin and… no… no… he wasn’t. This was a dream. It wasn’t real. Cas had saved him from Hell. Dean needed to be saved again. _Cas, please save me._ But he couldn’t. Cas was dead… _No!_

Dean jerked awake at that thought. The shifter. The shifter had said that he’d killed Cas. And then he’d come awfully close to beating Dean to death. Matter of fact, the young hunter was pretty damned surprised to be waking up at all. Even if he was waking up in a world of agony. What also surprised him was that he wasn’t tied up in a chair this time. Dean could feel Bobby’s living room carpet under his body as he tried to get himself to move. Wait a minute. He felt the carpet underneath every inch of his body…

Dean looked down at himself and saw that he was completely naked. “What the hell?” He mumbled through his swollen lips. His first thought was that it was some sort of intimidation tactic. Which was, in his opinion, rather unnecessary since the shifter could easily kill him, which was pretty damned intimidating in and of itself. But as the boy lifted his aching head and caught sight of the shifter standing a few feet away, he realized that there was a very good reason that all his clothes had been taken. He blamed his multiple head injuries on the fact that he hadn’t thought of it before now. 

Dean did his best to glare at his own childish face that was staring back at him smugly. “I get that you wanted to look handsome, but did you have to take all my clothes, you perv? I have a whole bag of clean ones upstairs. Wearing those is kinda unsanitary, dude.”

The shifter laughed. “Right. When your family comes running back to your rescue, they’re going to think I’m you. It won’t be very believable if I’m wearing a whole different outfit.”

“It won’t be believable anyway, ‘cause a douche-bag like you can’t pull off being as awesome as me.”

“Sure I can.” The shifter insisted. “I’ve fooled so many people for years. I just delve into your mind, flip through your memories, and I can become you. Your parents won’t even know the difference. Until I kill them, that is.”

“Really?” Dean asked, struggling into a kneeling position, trying to ignore his nakedness. There was nothing he could do about it for the moment. “So you been in my head yet? You know everything about me?”

“Just skimmed the surface. And I know a bit from being your dad. But I’ll get some more right now.” The shifter stared at him.

Dean closed his eyes and concentrated hard. He didn’t know if it was possible to send memories to a shifter, but he had to try. He forced himself to think about Hell. He thought about how the hooks had dug into his flesh and tore through his skin. He thought about Alastair and how the demon would torture him. Dean focused on the pain of the razor cutting into him, the times when he’d be skinned, the organs removed from his body. He cringed as he recalled his flesh burning as the fires consumed him. Dean remembered having hundreds of dull rods shoved forcefully through his body and into the table beneath him. He thought about how Alastair had allowed the hellhounds to tear him apart and feast on his insides over and over again. As the memories consumed him, Dean let out a cry of anguish that he soon realized was being echoed.

The small hunter forced his eyes opened and saw the shifter was on his knees, clutching at his head, with a look of pure horror written all over his face. Dean wondered if that was what his parents saw when he himself was trapped in his memories of Hell. But Dean had an advantage over the shifter. He’d fought his way out of Hell before. The boy pushed at the memories and clawed his way completely back into reality for the third time that day. Gasping a bit, Dean got to his feet. Then he crossed over to the shifter and kicked it in the face with as much strength as he could muster. Which wasn’t all that much, but it was enough to make the Dean-shaped monster collapse to the floor.

“You picked the wrong guy to copy, bitch. You don’t wanna be me.” Dean kicked it again. And again. But after a fourth kick, his bad leg gave out on him and the boy fell to the ground. 

Dean groaned in pain and rolled away from the shifter, just in case the monster got its act together long enough to retaliate. His vision faded out for a moment and the boy knew that he was in trouble. His body had been through too much and he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Dean needed to get his hands on a weapon. Or maybe the best move would be to go downstairs and let Bobby out of the panic room. But if the shifter snapped out of his Hell-memory-induced daze and came after him, Dean would be in trouble. Sure the freak was kid sized now, but it was still super strong and was probably still carrying a gun. A gun. Dean could’ve smacked himself in the head if it wouldn’t have hurt like a bitch and probably have knocked himself out. The shifter most likely was still carrying a gun. Dean just needed to crawl over there and relieve him of it. 

The boy made his way over as swiftly as his abused body would allow. When he reached the shifter, Dean reached into the waistband of his pants and felt the handle of the gun. He was about to grasp it when an elbow connected with his face. The young hunter cried out in pain as blood rushed from his nose. He fell back on his ass and then the shifter was on him in a flurry of fists and feet. Dean laid down, ignoring the pain in his back from where he’d been beaten with the belt earlier, brought his feet up, braced them against the shifter’s chest, and pushed the monster backwards. The thing stumbled a bit and Dean rolled over to his hands and knees and tried to scramble away. He had no clue where he was getting the energy from to do all this, but he thanked God that he hadn’t passed out yet. He was certain that if he did, he wouldn’t be waking up again.

The shifter pounced on his back and Dean couldn’t contain the scream of pain that slipped out of his mouth. Damn that hurt!

Dean struggled a bit but it was useless. He couldn’t get the monster off of him. Then he felt the shifter’s fingers wrap around his throat.

The monster’s breath was hot in his ear as is practically snarled at him. “By the time your family arrives, there will only be one Dean Winchester left alive in this house and it won’t be you.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel tried to open his eyes again to confirm what he’d seen earlier, but it seemed like too much effort. Besides, he could dimly hear Mary’s voice and John’s, so he was pretty certain he hadn’t imagined… John… John… there was something about John… 

Right! That creature. It had looked like John on the surface, but that had only been skin deep. Its soul… its soul had been hideous. It was dark, twisted, and deranged. Definitely not a spirit but not a demon either. Castiel had stared at the thing pretending to be John while he’d been trapped inside the ring of fire. Then the thing had held up the angel blade. Castiel couldn’t remember the exact words it had spoken, but it somehow knew things that it shouldn’t have known. And it took great joy in cutting the angel with his own weapon over and over again. Castiel thought the monstrosity would kill him for certain, but it had stepped back and laughed at him. Told him that he would play with him more later, if he survived his wounds, but that he had to go pay a visit to Dean. The monster that looked like John seemed to enjoy the fact that he could make an angel suffer. 

Castiel didn’t know how much time had passed since then. It had been a blur of pain and darkness. And there had been other things as well, far more disturbing than his own pain. The angel had felt terror and agony coming from Dean. His young friend was suffering in his memories of Hell again. Castiel tried to reach out to him but the angel was far too injured to make the connection. There was nothing he could do to help the boy. Twice, it happened, and both times Castiel wasn’t sure whether or not to feel relieved when Dean’s nightmares ended, because he was certain that his friend was probably waking to something equally horrific. 

“Castiel?”

“Cas, can you hear us?”

The angel forced his eyes open and saw the Winchester parents standing outside the circle of flames. And their souls looked normal. Good. 

Castiel must’ve blacked out again because the next thing he knew, hands were touching him, opening his shirt and pulling the fabric away from his skin and the still oozing wounds. The angel grabbed the person’s wrist as his eyes flew open. Mary was kneeling over him, a look of concern on her face.

“Easy, Castiel. I need to see how bad these wounds are.”

“They are bad, but not lethal.” Castiel informed her, his voice coming out weaker than he’d anticipated.

“I thought angels healed quicker than this.” John commented.

“These injuries were caused by my own angel blade.”

“Damned shifter.”

“Shifter?”

“It’s a shape shifter, Castiel.” Mary told him. “It can change its appearance to look like anyone and can even access the person’s memories. Right now it looks like John. It’s back at Bobby’s house. Bobby is locked in the panic room and it has Dean. We need to get back to him.”

“Are you well enough to teleport?” John asked.

Truthfully, Castiel doubted it. But for Dean, he’d try. “I’ll try.” 

“Dean?” 

Castiel turned his head to see Sammy sitting up on a jacket on the ground. Mary rushed over to him.

“Oh baby, it’s okay. We’re going to go get Dean now.”

John cleared his throat. “Mary, we can’t take Sammy back into that house until it’s safe.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Cas can take me back and you drive back with Sammy. By the time you get there it should all be over.”

Mary shook her head. “No! You’re hurt and this thing…”

“Enjoys torturing women and children.” John finished. “You are not going in there. My head hurts a little but it’s not bad. Besides, the shifter may have taken my gun but he made a huge mistake. He left that.” Castiel looked at the black bag that John pointed at. The emergency bag. “We have the Colt. It’ll kill that son of a bitch just as good as silver. All I have to do is stand across the room and shoot him. But I can’t do that if you and Sammy are there. Please, Mary. This is the way it’s gotta be.”

Castiel struggled to his feet, watching the interplay between the couple. He felt weak and was concentrating on drawing all his strength into one burst that he would use to transport himself and John back to Bobby’s. He couldn’t feel Dean and hoped that it was because the boy was conscious and not because he was dead. 

“We should go.” He announced.

John went over to the black bag and pulled out the Colt. Then he walked back to Castiel.

Mary held Sammy to her chest and finally nodded to her husband. “I hate this plan.”

“I know.” He responded.

“Please save him.” Tears began to roll down her face.

“I will.” John promised, although Castiel knew that all three adults feared that it might already be too late.

“Daddy is Daddy?” Sammy asked.

Mary looked at him. “Yeah, that’s Daddy. Not a bad man in a mask. And he’s going to go get Dean.”

Sammy nodded and buried his face in his mother’s shoulder. It was clear that the little boy had been through too much that night. 

“I’m ready.” John placed his left hand on Castiel’s arm and held his weapon with his right.

Castiel concentrated as hard as he could on Bobby’s house; Bobby’s living room. He thought about the place, how it looked, sounded, smelled, tasted, felt. He imagined himself and John there; wished them there. It was harder than most times. It felt as though he were being ripped apart, but there was a sense of displacement and a rush of air and when he opened his eyes he was there. 

But the sight that greeted him was not what he expected. Castiel saw not one, but two Deans. One was sitting on the floor wearing torn and bloody clothes. The other was laying under the first one, sprawled out on the carpet and completely naked, his body covered in wounds. Dean number one had his small hands wrapped around Dean number two’s neck. The clothed Dean’s soul was hideous, just as the pretend John’s had been, while naked Dean’s soul was scarred but still bright and beautiful.

“Dean.” Castiel said to the real Dean.

And that was all he got to say or do before the room spun around violently and the angel collapsed to the floor.


	63. I’m Dean

Chapter Sixty-Three: I’m Dean 

Bobby’s living room smelled of blood. That was the first thing that John noticed upon arriving. He thought that it would be a relief to finally escape the smell of the sewers but to leave that scent only to replace it with the strong metallic odor of blood was actually worse. Especially with the knowledge that it was his own son’s blood that he was smelling. And it was all his fault. 

He’d let the shifter lead him into a trap. John never should’ve trusted that damned police officer. Officer Wells was too eager to help. And the lead about finding bones in the sewer was just too damned convenient. John shouldn’t have followed him. But he had, and the next thing he knew he was being hit from behind. Then he had found himself face to face with himself. And he’d just known that this creature was going to do to his family what it had done to all those other families. Finally, after all those hours of lying there, Mary had shown up with Sammy and John had been thrilled to see that at least the two of them were okay. But his fears had been confirmed when she had told him that the shifter had Dean. His son was being tortured. Images from all the police reports flashed through John’s mind as he’d prepared to go to Dean’s rescue and he’d prayed with all his heart that the boy wasn’t dead already. And then he’d arrived only to smell blood, and lots of it. 

John heard Castiel say Dean’s name seconds before the angel collapsed to the floor but the father could not tear his eyes away from his son. No, make that his _sons_. Because there were two Deans on the carpet of Bobby’s living room floor. What the hell was he going to do now?

This was supposed to be easy. He was supposed to find the shifter looking like himself and kill the bastard before it could hurt Dean any further. He wasn’t supposed to have to try and figure out which of the two boys on the floor was his real son and then shoot and kill the other. And what if he got it wrong? 

Now both Deans were looking up at him. One of them was wearing his son’s clothes, the same ones he was wearing that morning, only they were now torn and bloody. His hair was disheveled and his eyes looked a bit wild. He had a split lip and a few bruises on his face. That Dean was sitting on the other Dean, pinning him to the floor and holding him by the neck. The second Dean was naked and lying on his stomach. His back was obscured from sight by the first Dean. His hair was caked with blood and his face was even more of a mess than the first Dean’s. His bare arms and legs were also covered in bruises. John stepped towards them.

The naked Dean spoke first. “Dad?”

The other Dean was quick to speak next, moving slightly so that his hands were no longer on the other Dean’s throat. “Don’t listen to him, Dad. He shifted into me. But I came to and managed to take him out.”

“Really, dude? That’s what you’re gonna go with?” Naked Dean muttered. Then he turned his attention back to John. “I’m me, Dad. You gotta kill it ‘fore it kills me.”

“Dad, I’m Dean! This thing is the shifter! Shoot him!”

“Dad, don’t listen to it.”

“I’m Dean, not him.” The clothed Dean insisted.

“You’re really pathetic, you freak.”

“Shut it!”

John watched as the Dean that was dressed in his son’s clothes grabbed the other Dean by the hair and slammed his head into the floor. John winced.

“Stop that!” He yelled.

“It’s just the shifter, Dad.”

“I don’t know that.”

“I’ll prove it. Ask me anything.”

Naked Dean laughed. “Right, because it’s not like shifters can’t read minds or anything.”

“Both of you be quiet for a moment.” John ordered. 

“Yes, sir.” Both of them chorused.

John stared at them. They both looked like Dean. One wore Dean’s clothes. It would make sense that that was his son and the other was the shifter, since if the shifter turned into Dean it would no longer fit into John’s clothes and thus would be running around naked. Unless it stole Dean’s clothes from him… okay, so using clothes as a way to tell them apart wasn’t the best idea. The naked Dean was obviously more bruised than the other, so maybe he was the real Dean because the shifter would’ve been beating Dean… but if Dean got free he might’ve taken out his anger on the shifter and Dean was one helluva tough kid. They both sounded like Dean… The naked one was using sarcasm and just seemed more Dean-like than the other… but maybe it was a ruse and the other one was actually Dean and was just too traumatized to sound like his usual self. Maybe John was just over-thinking this whole thing… but how was he supposed to choose? Hell, how was he supposed to shoot someone that looked like his seven year old son? And if he was wrong…

“You,” He gestured to the clothed Dean. “Get off of him.”

“But Dad, then he’ll attack me again. He’s fast, and a strong, and…”

“And I’m the one with the gun, Dean.”

The Dean nodded and climbed off of the other Dean, getting to his feet. As soon as the naked Dean’s full body was revealed, John knew which boy was his son and he felt sick to his stomach. His son was a damned good fighter and would leave bruises and cuts on an opponent in a battle, but the raised and bleeding welts on the child’s bare back could only have been caused by being whipped with a belt and that was something the real Dean Winchester would never do. A sadistic shifter on the other hand… John turned his attention to the clothed Dean and leveled his gun at him. This monster had beaten his son. 

“Dad?” The shifter that looked like his son asked, pretending to be confused.

“I’m not your dad, you sick monster.”

“It’s me… Dean.”

“No, you’re not.” John spared a quick glance down to his real son who was struggling to his hands and knees and backing away from the confrontation. John knew him well enough to know that Dean didn’t want the shifter to try and use the boy as a shield or a hostage. John felt his rage increase as he saw even more of the damage done to his son. “You kidnapped Dean and look what you did to him! And I’m going to kill you for it.”

The shifter suddenly dropped the act and an un-Dean-like sneer marred his young looking features. “No you’re not. Because you can’t shoot someone that looks like your poor, innocent little boy. No matter how much he’s screwed up your life. Bet you wish you could though, huh? Boy, I’ve seen some messed up families in my time, but this one takes the cake, _Dad_. Everything was going just fine until Dean, I mean, _I_ came along, right? You can be honest. I can take it. I know you hate me, Dad. So just go ahead and pull the trigger.”

“I don’t hate Dean. I love him.” John insisted.

“No you don’t.” The shifter laughed. “I’m a pain in the ass. Who wants a son this traumatized? Or a son that’s a freakin’ sociopath that goes around slaughtering freaks in his spare time? I’m damaged goods, Dad, and you know it. So pull the trigger and get rid of the son that you consider a burden. Kill me, Dad! You know you wanna!” 

John couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill Dean. But then his eyes slid to the naked boy that was trying to crawl to him. The small, battered child shouldn’t have had the strength left in him to have made it but was still trying. John made eye contact with his son, his real son, and saw the pain and determination there. The hunter took in all the many bruises, cuts, welts, and other wounds littering the boy’s small body and he looked up at the shifter that had done all that to him and pulled the trigger.

John was certain that he’d never get the image of Dean’s small body falling to the floor dead from his mind, especially knowing it had been his own hand that had shot him, but he didn’t have time to think about it at the moment. The father ran to Bobby’s couch, snatched one of the blankets off of it and ran back to his real son. Then he dropped down to his knees, wrapped the cloth around his shivering boy, and pulled Dean into his arms.

“I got you, Dean. It’s over.” He felt Dean tense up a moment before relaxing into him. “It’s all over.”

“Is Sammy okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, your mom’s bringing him home soon.”

“You should go get Bobby out. And get that thing out of here before they get back.” Dean’s voice shook, but he tried to get up, obviously determined to make John carry through with the plan rather than have him stay and give the boy comfort.

John stood, picking Dean up easily. “I’ll do that. But I want you to stay put on the couch until I get a chance to look you over, okay?”

Dean nodded. “’Kay, Dad.” He sounded exhausted. “But I wanna sit with Cas first. I just… he… the shifter said he was dead. What’s wrong with him?”

“He was hurt with the angel sword, but he’s still alive. I’ll bring him over to the couch, but I want you to sit up there, Dean. You’re hurt bad.”

“You’re telling me.” Dean muttered, but didn’t fight him on it any further.

John sat his son on the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around his body. He kissed the top of the boy’s head and then walked over to the angel. Grabbing Castiel under the armpits, he dragged him over and deposited him next to where Dean was sitting. 

John purposefully didn’t look at the body of the shifter as he walked past it. He couldn’t see his son lying there dead. And Dean was right. It needed to be cleaned up before Mary and Sammy got back. But first thing first.

John rushed down the stairs and to the door to the panic room. He hesitated by the door, realizing immediately how it was going to seem to the older hunter. Well, hopefully Bobby would listen to reason. 

“Bobby! It’s John! The real John! I’m not the shifter. I’m sure you just heard a gunshot come from upstairs. That was me shooting the shifter. It’s dead. Dean’s badly hurt, so I need you to just put away any distrustful hunter crap and not attack me, okay? We gotta get back upstairs to Dean. I’m going to open this door and let you out now.” With a sigh, John unlocked and opened the door. Then he stepped back. 

Bobby came out the door and walked right past him. “Ya comin’, John?”

“You’re not going to try and make sure I’m really me?”

“Ya ain’t the shifter.”

“How do you know?”

“The shifter wouldn’t ramble on forever like ya did just now. Now let’s get ta yer boy.”

John rolled his eyes but gratefully followed the other hunter back upstairs. Then he remembered that he had forgotten to warn Bobby about the shifter’s body. He was about to yell out to the other man when a cry let him know that he was too late.

“What the hell! Dean!”

“That’s the shifter, Bobby. I’m over here.” John heard Dean call to Bobby.

“Jesus, boy! Ya took years off my life just now!”

“Sorry,” John replied entering the room. “I should’ve warned you.”

“Damn straight you should’ve.” Bobby agreed. 

John was going to say more, even though he wasn’t sure exactly sure what he was going to say, but then everything seemed to catch up to him and he just sat down on the couch next to Dean. His hands started to shake and he clasped them tightly to try and force it to stop. A quick glance to his right revealed that Dean’s whole body was trembling. If John’s day had been difficult and harsh, then Dean’s had been downright horrific. The father wanted nothing more than to put an arm around his battered son’s body to comfort him again, but he was very aware that it had been his form that the shifter had used when it had tortured Dean and wasn’t sure if touching the boy would do more harm than good.

Suddenly, the decision was taken from him when Dean looked up at him with tears collecting in his eyes. “Thanks for coming, Dad.” His son leaned into him and John wrapped his arms around the child tightly, but carefully. He knew that he’d have to get up in a moment and take care of the shifter’s body, and then he’d have to check Dean over and clean up his many injuries, but for the moment he was content to hold the son that he knew he’d come so close to losing forever.


	64. Wounds

Chapter Sixty-Four: Wounds

Dean watched silently as his father and Bobby wrapped up the body of the shifter in an old cloth tarp that the older hunter had brought in from outside and tied it up with some rope. They were going to take it out back and leave it there to be burned later. Dean pulled the blanket a little tighter around himself. He’d convinced his dad to run upstairs and grab his bag of clothes so that Dean could take out a pair of underwear to put on. He’d been told that he wasn’t allowed to get completely dressed until his injuries were looked over and taken care of, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to remain totally naked. It was bad enough that his dad had seen him completely exposed, but he wasn’t going to be giving his mom, Bobby, or Sammy the same show. Besides, after the day he’d just had, any small amount of protection he could get was a relief. Thus the tightening of his blanket. 

Dean glanced back down to where Cas was lying on the floor. The angel looked like crap. He had several deep cuts covering his torso and arms. Dean knew that they had been made with the angel blade and were going to take time to heal, but he was just relieved that his friend was alive. They’d somehow all made it through this; not necessarily in one piece but they were alive and that had to count for something. 

The sound of the door closing behind his dad and Bobby made Dean jumped and his injuries made themselves known once more. The small hunter moaned in pain. He was trying not to let the others see how much agony he was in, but now that he was alone in the room, the boy curled in on himself and rested his head on his knees. A few stray tears leaked from his eyes. God, everything hurt. Dean didn’t think that the shifter had missed a single inch of his body when it had beaten him. While he’d been tied to the chair, his back had been spared from the many blows, but once he’d gotten free, the monster had taken the belt to it and now it was one of the more painful areas. Damn shifter. Dean really hated shifters. Every single time they showed up, his life seemed to go into the toilet. Oh, well. At least this time he wasn’t being accused of murder.

“Dean?”

“Cas? You okay?” Dean asked, picking his head up to look at his friend. 

“No. But I will heal. And you?”

“Same answer.” Dean smiled.

The angel’s eyes were barely open as he stared up at the boy, and Dean had a feeling that Cas wouldn’t be awake for too long.

“You’re soul looks beautiful.”

“Uh… thanks?”

“The shifter’s… it was dark… hideous… not like you…”

“Well, he was an ass.” Dean shrugged. And damn, but that small motion hurt. “You wanna lay down on the couch? Lot more comfortable than the floor.”

“I don’t believe I can get up there on my own.’ Cas confessed.

“Oh. Well, I won’t be much help.” Dean looked around and then grabbed a throw pillow from the couch. He carefully got up and knelt down by his friend. “Can you lift your head?” When the angel did as he was asked, Dean shoved the soft item under his head. Then he pulled the second blanket down and tossed it over Cas’ body. “There. Not the best, but…”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dean climbed stiffly back onto the couch. “Thanks for bringing Dad to rescue me. He arrived just in time.”

They sat in silence after that, until the door opened and Dean’s dad and Bobby walked back in. Dean looked up at them and smiled weakly. He tried to ignore the way that his heartbeat quickened a bit every time he saw his dad. Intellectually, he knew that it had been the shifter, not his father that had spent the better part of the day torturing him, but still his body was reacting poorly to the sight of his own dad and he couldn’t help it. But Dean was determined to hide it so that he didn’t make the man feel bad. Besides, it wasn’t that bad once he got used to it. He’d even felt comfortable leaning against his dad earlier. It was mostly just when the man first entered the room.

“Hey, Dad. Cas is awake.”

“Really? He doesn’t look it.”

Dean looked down and saw that Cas was out once more. But at least this time the angel looked asleep instead of unconscious or dead. 

“Well, he was.” Dean insisted.

“Sure.” Bobby replied with fake sarcasm. “Ya probably just imagined the whole thing ‘cause ya got hit in the head a bit too hard.”

“I’m not the senile one, old man.” Dean shot back with a grin.

“Enough, you two.” His dad interrupted, stepping forwards. When he reached the couch, he held out his hand. “Got something you might want back.”

Dean knew what it was immediately and could’ve kicked himself for not retrieving it earlier.

“Thanks, Dad.” He took his necklace back and held it tightly for a moment before putting it back around his neck. Now he felt slightly less naked.

“Okay, Dean, I gotta check you over. Lose the blanket.”

And now the slightly less naked feeling was gone. Dean shrugged the blanket off. He heard Bobby let out a gasp as the older man must’ve seen the bruises, cuts, and other marks that painted the young hunter’s chest, stomach, and limbs. Dean wondered what his reaction would be when he saw his back. The boy knew from the level of pain that the whip marks from the belt were far worse there than they were on his chest and legs. And if his dad and Bobby were making such a big deal over his injuries, he knew that his mom was going to really freak out when she got back. And through it all, Dean was trying his best to pretend that none of it was as bad as it really was so as not to make them even more concerned. Some days his life really sucked.

Dean hissed as his dad pressed on his ribs. “Dude, what the hell?”

“I have to see if anything is broken, Dean.”

“Warn a guy next time.”

“I did. You must not have been listening.”

“Oh.” Dean bit down on his lip and groaned. His father’s hands moved up and pressed harder and Dean tried to get away from the agony.

“Hold still, son. I’m almost done.”

A large hand held him in place by his shoulder while the other went back to his ribs and when Dean felt one of them shift, he panicked and screamed. “No! Stop! Leave me the hell alone!” He batted at his dad and even though there wasn’t much force behind his blows, his father released him and sat back.

“Dean, relax. It’s me. It’s just me. I’m trying to help.”

Dean felt dangerously close to hyperventilating and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, Dean. I understand. I’m sorry. You know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

Dean stared at him and forced himself to see his dad and not the shifter. “I know.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes but then I’m going to need to wrap up your ribs. I think only one is broken but you probably have a few hairline fractures as well and we can’t risk any of them getting worse. Then I’ll get your leg stitched up. Afterwards, I’m going to have to look at your back. Some of the… those wounds were bleeding as well. When I’m done we can ice the bruises, and you can get some rest.”

Dean nodded, trying to control his building panic. He really didn’t want to be touched at that moment. “Can’t all this wait ‘til morning? My ribs aren’t going anywhere and I’m not gonna bleed to death through my leg or back…”

“No, Dean. Your rib needs to be secured unless you want a possible punctured lung. And that would mean a trip to the hospital.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be a good idea right now.” Dean mumbled. 

“No, it wouldn’t.” His dad agreed. 

Dean took a deep breath. If he couldn’t get out of the medical crap tonight, he might as well stop looking like a baby in front of his father and Bobby and get it over with. “Fine, let’s do it then.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “Just… can you start with the leg first?”

“No problem.”

Dean leaned back against the couch as his dad applied the local anesthetic to the area around the gash on his leg. Once the icy feeling gave way to blessed numbness, the boy watched as his father stitched up the wound. Yep, that would be yet another scar. 

Dean had just gotten into position for his father to work on his back when the front door opened. 

“We’re back.” Dean heard his mom announce.

Dean looked back at his dad in concern. His mom could’ve just walked into a trap. She should’ve known better. As if reading his mind, his father smiled down at him.

“I left the Colt on the porch with a note saying that everything was okay. The shifter never would’ve done that.”

Dean nodded. He turned his head just in time to see his mom enter the room holding Sammy in her arms. The toddler started squirming as soon as his eyes found his big brother.

“Dean!”

“Hey, Sammy!” Dean smiled.

Dean’s mom placed the little boy on the floor and then rushed over to the couch herself. She had tears gathering in her eyes as she placed a gentle hand on his face.

“Oh, sweetie.” She didn’t seem to know what else to say.

Sammy got up on the couch and Dean sat up and swung his legs off the side so that his little brother could get close to him without actually climbing on him.

“Lot of booboos, Dean.” Sammy started pointing out all of Dean’s injuries. “Kisses?”

Dean laughed. “We’ll be here all night if you plan on kissing them all, little dude. How ‘bout you give me one big kiss and it’ll make ‘em all better?”

“’Kay.” Sammy nodded, before leaning forwards and placing a sloppy kiss on the older boy’s cheek.

“Wow!” Dean exclaimed. “All the pain is gone. Thanks, Sammy.”

“Love you, Dean.” Sammy hugged him a bit too tightly and Dean bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.

Luckily, his parents saw his expression and quickly stepped in. “Hey Sammy, it’s been a long night for everyone.” His dad announced. “I think we should get some food made, eat a quick bite, and get to bed. Sound good?”

“Pea-butter and jelly!” Sammy hopped off the couch and took off for the kitchen.

“I got it.” Bobby volunteered.

Dean watched the older hunter leave and then turned his attention to his parents, who were both giving him concerned looks. 

“I’ll be fine.” He assured them.

“What happened?” His mom asked.

Dean looked to make sure that Sammy was out of earshot, then he shrugged. “Shifter beat the crap outta me, then Dad killed it. End of story.”

His mom held his chin in her hand and turned his head to get a look at the damage done to his face. Dean squirmed a bit under her close scrutiny. Then her gaze traveled down his body and she gasped. “What did that?”

“A belt would be my guess.” His dad answered. “He’s got similar, but worse, marks on his back.”

His mom looked furious. “I wish it was still alive so that I could kill it.”

Dean shrugged again. “Look, it’s all over with. Can I just finish getting patched up so I can rest.” He felt a bit bad for being rude when his parents were just being concerned about him, but the attention was making him feel uncomfortable and was reminding him that he’d failed. The shifter had captured and tortured him and he hadn’t been able to escape and he’d allowed the monster to beat him and hadn’t been able to fight back very well. Dean figured that he deserved everything he’d gotten. 

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

He looked up at his mom. “What?”

“The look on your face just now… what were you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

“Dean…”

“Just… it’s nothing.”

His dad sighed. “I know you went through a lot today, Dean, but we’re here for you if you need to talk about anything.”

“Fine, how about we talk about the fact that the shifter was right. I’m damaged goods. More so now than ever. And I know I screwed up today, okay? So just… I can’t… please just give me a moment.” Dean hopped up off the couch, accidently stepping on Cas’ hand as he did so. He grabbed a pair of jeans from his bag and pulled them on, wincing as they rubbed against his bruises. The young hunter left them sitting low on his hips, but still they brushed against the bottom of some of the raised welts on his back, causing him excruciating pain. He expected his parents to try and stop him, but his outburst seemed to have taken them by surprise and left them both speechless. Dean took advantage of the situation and took off for the front door. “I’m not going anywhere.” He announced, not wanting them to get concerned. “I just… I need some air.” He’d been tortured in this room and needed to get out to be able to think clearly. To maybe get the shifter’s words out of his head, where they’d been echoing around since they’d been spoken. 

Dean flung the door open and took a step out only to run straight into a person that was standing on the porch. The boy let out a yelp of surprise and fell back into a defensive position. In his condition, he’d never be able to take out an opponent, but maybe he’d last long enough for help to arrive. Or he’d screw up again and die pathetically.

But then Dean looked up into a familiar, yet terribly young (at least to him), face.

“Pastor Jim?” He gasped in surprise.


	65. Lost Sheep or Lone Wolf

Chapter Sixty-Five: Lost Sheep or Lone Wolf 

Pastor Jim Murphy knew that he was arriving a bit late at Bobby Singer’s residence, but it wouldn’t be the first time that he’d stayed overnight with a hunter without calling ahead. And at least Bobby had spare rooms so the pastor wouldn’t find himself spending the night on the floor in a sleeping bag. He’d been driving all day on his way back from helping out with a double exorcism and Singer Salvage was close by. Besides, he had some old texts and manuscripts that he’d been meaning to drop off with the hunter for months now and it seemed like an opportune time. 

He parked his car at the end of the drive and walked up, noticing a few cars close to the house. Jim wondered if Bobby had company or if he was just backed up with work. The man had a tendency to take on more repair projects than he could handle some days. But the black Impala at least seemed to be in pretty good condition. Well, on the outside anyway. Jim knew next to nothing about cars, but he did know that, like people, sometimes their appearance looked good but inside they were either broken or hiding dangerous problems that could injure those around them. 

The pastor walked up the front steps and was about to knock on the door when it was flung open and a small blur ran out and right into him. The man stepped back in surprise as the child did the same. Jim looked down at the boy and gasped. The youngster couldn’t have been older than six or seven years old and was in terrible condition. He’d seen horribly abused children in his line of work, but none in a worse state than this boy. His short, spiky hair looked to be normally a dark blonde color but was now matted with dried blood, portions of it seemingly almost red. His green eyes were swollen to mere slits, his nose was cut, as was his cheek bone, his lips were swollen and split, and the rest of his young face was a mass of bruises. The boy was shirtless, showing off even more dark bruises and cuts. Jim’s gaze dropped to the child’s bare feet, one of which was painted with dried blood. The pastor was still studying the beaten boy when the kid spoke.

“Pastor Jim?”

Jim blinked. How did this child know who he was? 

“Who are you, young man?” He asked.

In seconds, a man was behind the boy. The child jumped as the man’s hand came down on his shoulder. The pastor tensed, not liking the situation at all.

“Dean.” The boy answered. “I’m Dean.”

“I’m his father, John. And you are.”

“Pastor Jim Murphy.” Jim responded.

“He’s a friend, John.” Bobby came to the door. “A friend who apparently can’t call before he just shows up on my porch.”

“Sorry, Bobby.” Jim apologized, trying to assess the situation. “I was in the area and was hoping for some hospitality. Is this a bad time?”

“Yes.” John answered.

“No.” Dean replied.

“It’s my damned house, can I answer the question?” Bobby grumbled.

Jim looked between John and Dean. It certainly seemed as though Dean was being abused by his father, but if that were the case, surely Bobby would pick up on it, so why wasn’t the other man doing anything about it?

Without waiting for an invitation, Jim stepped into the house, ignoring the looks that he was getting from John. A woman stood not far behind, and a younger child sat at Bobby’s table eating a sandwich. This child didn’t have a mark on him. Jim looked closely and saw that both John and Bobby seemed to have sustained head injuries. 

“You get in a fight, Bobby?’ He asked casually.

“The bad man hurt him.” The little boy at the table answered. 

“It’s nothing.” Bobby replied dismissively. “Pastor Jim, these are the Winchesters. John, Mary, Dean, and Sammy. Oh and Cas is sleeping on the floor over there. He’s Mary’s brother.” 

“Pleasure to meet you all. But it seems that this young man here already knows me.” He looked down at Dean. “You knew my name somehow…” He prompted.

“Bobby talks about you.” Dean explained.

Jim didn’t believe him for a single moment. “Uh huh.”

“So, what can I do for you, Jim?” Bobby asked. 

“I have some books for you out in the car and was hoping for a place to stay the night. And a look at my car in the morning, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. The breaks haven’t seemed right for the last few miles.”

“Well, the rooms are all taken right now, but I can’t send you out on the road with bad breaks. Getting’ a preacher killed in a car crash is a one way trip ta Hell fer sure.” Bobby commented. “If ya don’t mind the couch, yer welcome ta stay.”

“I’ve had worse accommodations.” Jim admitted.

“Okay, then.” Bobby nodded.

To say that there was tension in the room would be a gross understatement. John was giving him death glares, Dean was staring at Jim as though he somehow knew him, Bobby was grumbling under his breath, Sammy was eating all while staring at his big brother as though he didn’t want to ever let the older boy out of his sight, Mary was also looking at Dean but with a sad expression on her face, and Cas was still sleeping on the living room floor. Jim was beginning to wonder if stopping by the Singer house was a good idea. But if he could maybe help this family, then it’d be worth whatever discomfort he was feeling and causing. So the pastor decided to trust that God had His reasons for directing him to stop here on this night. 

Dean looked at his dad and whispered. “It’s okay. He’s okay.”

“Dean…” His dad said warningly.

“I know.” The boy murmured back. “I’m not gonna tell him.”

Jim could just make out the words, and pretended that he didn’t hear the exchange. He wanted to get the boy alone. Dean had practically asked the pastor to stay so maybe the child would open up and ask for help if given the opportunity.

“Hey Dean, you like to read?”

The boy shrugged, then winced in poorly concealed pain. “I guess.”

“Great. I have some paperbacks out in my car too. Donations. Why don’t you come on out with me and take a look. You can pick some out for yourself.”

The boy’s beaten face brightened as a grin lit up his features. “Sounds great.” 

“Come on then.”

“I don’t know…” Mary stepped forwards. “He’s not feeling too well.”

“Jim’ll keep an eye on him.” Bobby assured her.

“I sure will.” Jim nodded. He led the boy back outside.

As they walked down off the porch, Jim noticed that Dean kept glancing up at him with a strange look on his face. It was a look that one would give to an old friend that they hadn’t seen in a long time. Strange. Maybe the boy was just very religious and was comforted by his presence. But when Dean stepped slightly in front of him, Jim caught a glimpse of the boy’s back and felt like crying when he saw the extreme damage that had been inflicted on the boy so very recently. 

“So, what happened, young man?”

“What?”

“You’re hurt.”

“Wow, you’re observant. If the whole pastor thing doesn’t work out, maybe you can become a detective.”

Jim laughed. “That’s quite a use of sarcasm. Can get you in trouble sometimes.”

Dean smiled. “Sometimes.”

“That what happened this time?”

The boy shrugged again. “Not really. I mean, my big mouth certainly never helps the situation, but this time I wasn’t to blame. Well, not completely, anyway.”

The way he said it made Jim sad. “Dean, when other people hurt you, you’re never to blame.”

“You only say that ‘cause you don’t know me yet.” Dean muttered. But then a strange look crossed his face. “Oh, wait… dude, no! You think… Oh, man! No, this… I wasn’t… no one in that house did this to me.” 

Pastor Jim sighed as they reached his station wagon. He popped the back open and turned to face the battered child. “Then you won’t mind telling me what happened?”

Dean looked up at him and Jim swore that he’d never looked into a pair of eyes that were more haunted that the ones belonging to the little boy he now faced. “My life’s crap.”

And the child honestly believed that. “Dean, things may seem bad sometimes, but there is always hope.”

“Unless your name happens to be Dean Winchester.”

Jim sat down inside the back of his station wagon, his feet resting on the gravel driveway, and motioned for the boy to join him. He was a bit surprised when he was taken up on his invitation. “You know, Dean, your life doesn’t have to be filled with pain. If someone is hurting you, you can tell me.”

“I already told you that it wasn’t anyone in that house.”

“Then who did all this. And please don’t say that you fell down the stairs.” That was a favorite lie that abused children used.

Pastor Jim was ready to hear Dean tell him that it was a kid a school. Or that he got jumped by some strangers on the playground. Maybe even an older cousin. Any cover story to clear his father’s name. Well, any cover story besides what he got.

“It was a shifter.”

“A what?”

“A shifter. You know, a shape shifter? Those freaky bastards that shed their skin so that they can take on anyone’s appearance?”

“A shape shifter?” Jim had heard of them, he was just surprised that Dean had and was blaming his injuries on one of them.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “Bobby called us out here to help with a salt and burn, only it turned out not to be that simple. Never is, in my life. Was a shifter, and the freak got his damned hands on me and this is the result.”

Jim’s head was spinning. Was this a story? If so, Dean had a wild, and detailed, imagination. “Wait, Bobby called your parents out to help? They’re hunters?” He’d suspected as much; that was who Bobby dealt with the most besides his auto repair clients. And it would explain any excess aggression on John’s part. But did they really tell their young son the truth about what they did?

“Yeah. And Cas. And me too.”

“You’re a hunter?” Jim asked. “Aren’t you a little young?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Dean looked up at him again and the pastor lost any doubts he had. The knowledge of what was out there was written all over the boy’s face.

“I’m sorry.” Jim wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. The pain the boy had gone through, the loss of innocence, the life he was living. Probably all of the above and more. 

“Don’t be. I save lives. It’s worth it.” Dean sighed. “Today just sucked.”

Pastor Jim tried to digest all the information he’d just been given. “Your parents let you hunt when you’re so young?”

“They didn’t have a choice. When I was four, demons came for me. I know stuff. And the higher up demons want me ‘cause of it. So, the only way to keep me safe was to teach me to protect myself. They taught me to hunt and kept me with them at all times. Can’t tell you any more without putting us both in danger.”

Jim felt his heart go out for this boy. Dean seemed like an incredibly broken, yet incredibly strong child. And somehow far older than his six or seven years. 

“That’s an awful lot for a child to live with.” 

“I’m not like most kids.” Dean replied. “Then again, you’re not like most pastors. No one in this business is what they seem, huh?”

Jim smiled. “How do you know so much about me?”

“Bobby told me.”

“Lying is a sin, Dean.”

“Well, one more sin on my rather extensive list isn’t gonna make that much of a difference.” Dean chuckled. “Really though, I know stuff. Lots of stuff. And I can’t tell you how, and you can’t ask.” 

“That’s the only answer I’m going to get, isn’t it?” Jim inquired.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “And it’s probably the most truthful I’ve been to most hunters I’ve crossed paths with but I’d really like to get to know you better if that doesn’t sound too weird and you don’t mind.” 

“Sounds good to me. I never say no to adding another lost sheep to my flock.”

Dean laughed. “I’m not really flock material. More lone wolf. The kind you want far away from the flock.”

“Earlier you claimed to protect the flock.”

“No one’s perfect.” Dean quipped.

It was Jim’s turn to laugh. When he stopped, he asked “Will I ever get to hear your full story?”

Dean’s expression turned serious. “I pray you never do, ‘cause if that day comes, it means that the crap has probably hit the fan. But yeah, I got a feeling that one day you will.”

The pastor studied him for a long moment. “You’ve been through a lot. More than just tonight.”

“Yeah. You’d think that after a while, you’d get used to torture. But it sucks just as much every single time. And I can’t ever seem to be strong enough or smart enough to stop it. Hell, I can’t even stop myself from reacting like a freakin’ baby.” Dean dropped his head down dejectedly. 

Jim thought his eyebrows would meet his hairline when he heard those comments. Abuse victims blaming themselves was nothing new, but hunters typically were cocky and confident and tended to blame their injuries on the monsters, fate, God, or their hunting partners. Anything but themselves. 

The pastor placed a gentle hand on Dean’s chin and turned his face up to look the boy in the eye. “Listen to me; I can tell from the fact that you survived all this that you are strong. And I may have just met you, but I know that you are smart. It’s just something about the way you talk; the look in your eyes. And as for being tortured, I don’t know how often it’s happened to you, and it breaks my heart to know that it’s more than just this once, but I pray to God that you never get used to it. You seem like a nice boy, Dean. You talk tough sometimes, and your language can use some cleaning up, but you’re a good kid. And no one that still has their humanity can be tortured and not be affected by it. So, don’t feel like crying over the pain is a sign of weakness, Dean. It’s a sign of strength. It shows that you are strong enough to hold on to your humanity even though you’ve been through so much in your life even at such a young age. It’s a remarkable accomplishment.” 

Dean seemed to think over his words. It looked like the boy really wanted to believe him and Jim sent out a prayer that the child would. When he spoke again, it was in a very quiet voice. “I’ve been afraid of losing my humanity before. Glad to know it’s not too late for me.”

“Definitely not too late.”

“But it is getting kinda late in the evening and my dad’s gonna go nuts if we don’t go inside soon. He just killed a shifter to save me and I can’t guarantee your life if you don’t get me back soon.”

Jim laughed. “Well then, I should grab the box of Bobby’s books and we’d better hurry. Don’t want our first meeting to be our last.”

“Definitely not.” Dean agreed, hopping off the back of the station wagon. He stumbled a little upon landing but managed to regain his footing. 

Jim grabbed the box filled with old texts and lifted it out of his car. He placed it on the ground long enough to close the back and then picked it back up. The pastor followed the small boy back to Bobby’s house, more eager to meet the Winchesters now that he knew that they were not abusing Dean. He was hoping to learn a bit more about this remarkable child and maybe find a way to help him a bit more.


	66. Pleased to Meet You

Chapter Sixty-Six: Pleased to Meet You 

“He’s not going to tell him anything that he’s not supposed to, John. Dean knows better.”

John knew that Mary was right, but he couldn’t help but worry as he stared out the window and couldn’t see a damned thing. Apparently the damned pastor parked his damned car too far down the damned driveway for John to see it. Yet the hunter still stood there looking out into the dark. 

He trusted Dean not to say anything, but he knew that his son wasn’t going to be able to stop himself from acting, well, like Dean around his old friend. John recognized the name Pastor Jim Murphy from a few stories that Dean had told and from some brief mentions in the journal. And that was bad news. His son managed to mostly behave himself around the random hunters that they’d run into out on their routine jobs, but every time they’d take a trip to the Road House, there was a definite difference. Dean was more… himself. He dropped his typical child-hunter act and became more like the Dean that John dealt with on a daily basis and the real trouble was that the boy didn’t even realize that he was doing it. And it wasn’t like John could tell him not to at this point, or Bill and Ellen would certainly notice the change. But now, he was certain that his son was going to do the same thing with Pastor Jim. Because around his ‘old friends’, Dean just seemed to be comfortable. It was one of the reasons why John had been dreading meeting any more acquaintances of Dean’s from his original timeline. Explaining the boy’s weird behavior was not easy.

Oh, and there was always the fact that the pastor was glaring at John after seeing Dean’s many injuries. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Jim thought that Dean was a victim of child abuse. 

John turned to his wife. “Even if he doesn’t say anything, he’s not going to act like a seven year old and we both know it. He already slipped up by calling the pastor by his name. And Pastor Murphy obviously thinks I put those marks on Dean.”

“And Dean will set him straight.” Mary assured him, picking Sammy up from where he’d fallen asleep with his head resting on the table next to his half-eaten sandwich. “And as for how Dean acts, we’ll get through it. Maybe this will be a good thing. We shouldn’t turn down anything that can potentially help cheer Dean up at this point.”

“I guess.” John admitted. “I just… I don’t want anymore complications right now.”

“I know. But rather than get upset, maybe you should sit down and rest. I’ll take a look at your head after I put Sammy to bed.” Mary kissed him on the cheek as she walked by. 

Once she’d gone upstairs, John sat down and put his aching head in his hands. He was tired and just really wanted to go to bed. But when did life ever cooperate with his wishes? 

John closed his eyes and saw Dean falling to the ground, dead from a bullet fired from John’s gun. His eyes flew open. No. That hadn’t really been Dean. It was that damned shifter. He’d never kill his own son. But Dean had come so close to dying today. Had Cas not been able to teleport them back, had they had to drive, his son would’ve been a corpse by the time he’d made his way back to Bobby’s house. John wondered how long it would’ve taken him to discover that the shifter wasn’t really Dean. He had no doubt that he would’ve figured it out, but would it have been before the shifter got a chance to kill him? If so, that meant he would’ve had to kill the shifter and then taken care of two dead Dean bodies. John shivered, pushing that image out of his head.

“You saved Dean’s life.” John’s head whipped around to see Cas standing only a couple of feet away. How the injured angel had gotten up and walked over to the table without making a sound, the hunter didn’t know. “To you, I’m sure it must’ve looked as though you were shooting your own son, but its soul was corrupted and twisted. They couldn’t have looked any more different from each other.”

“You reading my mind?”

“No. I don’t read minds.”

John rolled his eyes. “I know that, Cas. I was just… never mind.” He sighed. “I know it wasn’t Dean, and the bastard deserved what it got and a hell of a lot more, but… I wish it didn’t look like my son when I had to kill it.”

A gasp alerted John to the fact that he and Cas weren’t alone in the room any longer. He looked up at Mary, who was staring at him in shock.

“I… I thought it had taken on your form.”

“It shifted before I got here.” John replied simply. He had been putting off telling Mary the truth, but now it looked like the cat was out of the bag. “I figured out which one was really Dean and killed the shifter. I’ll burn the body later myself. You don’t need to see it.”

Mary nodded, paling further than she’d been since this whole nightmare had started. She was strong, one helluva hunter, but John knew that the idea of burning a body that looked like her son was as sickening to her as it was to him. Possibly worse, since she hadn’t seen it when it was alive and trying to kill her real son. 

Bobby entered the room just then. “Ain’t either of you gonna take care of it since I just did. And you better sit down, angel-boy, before your face is studying my floor up close again. Ya look like crap.”

“He’s not wrong.” John agreed. “You probably shouldn’t have gotten up.”

“Dean will need my assistance to sleep tonight. He has endured his memories of Hell twice today so far while unconscious. I will not let him dream of it this night as well.”

John was just digesting that bit of information when the front door swung open. He turned to see Dean walk through with Pastor Jim Murphy right behind him. The pastor was carrying a large cardboard box overfilled with old books. But that wasn’t the only new thing. When the two of them had left, Jim had been casting suspicious looks at John, and Dean, while he’d been excited to see his old friend, had still been beaten down, and not just in a physical sense. Now, upon reentering Bobby’s house, Jim sent a small nod John’s way and Dean, well, he was still a bit upset but he was smiling and somehow a bit lighter. And that was reason enough for what John did next.

“Here, let me take that.” John stepped forward and snatched the heavy box from Pastor Jim’s hands.

“Thank you.” Jim replied. “But be careful. I think the bottom of the box is about to give out.”

“I’ll just put it down on the kitchen table then, and it’ll be Bobby’s problem when he goes to move it to wherever the hell he wants it.”

“I’m standing right here. I can hear ya, ya idjit.” Bobby protested.

John purposefully ignored the older hunter. “These books look ancient. Where did you get them?”

“From here and there.” Jim shrugged. “Hunters get their hands on them sometimes, others come from the church.”

“The church?”

“Yeah. Old, cursed books are brought in to be cleansed and after I bless them, I make sure they find their way into the right hands. Some end up in my private collection, others get brought here.” 

John nodded. “You hunt?” He knew the answer, but wanted some details.

Jim nodded. “But not like you probably do. I don’t go out looking for werewolves and vampires. Mostly I try to put spirits to rest and look into reports of biblical occurrences.”

“Such as?”

“Demonic signs, claims of God-given powers, even the occasional angel sighting.”

“You’ve met angels?” Cas asked.

Jim smiled. “Personally? Not yet. But I’ve met those who have claimed to. And yes, I believe they exist. If demons are out there, then angels are as well.”

Castiel nodded and John could see the hint of a smile that the angel was trying to contain.

John looked at Pastor Jim and considered his options for a moment. Dean trusted this man and Dean hadn’t been wrong about people yet. “You’re an expert on this stuff, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“In the past couple years, starting around November of 1983, have you heard of anything about my family or a demon known as Alastair?”

Jim seemed to think for a moment. “I don’t exactly sit down for tea and conversation with the demons, but they do tend to brag a lot and they talk and spit out threats during exorcisms. I haven’t heard your family named specifically, no. As for the name Alastair, I heard the name once before, years ago. It’s a name most demons fear themselves.”

“Have you heard anything else?” Dean questioned. “Any talk of long term plans? Like apocalyptic type plans?”

“Lately a few demons have said comments about how ‘she’ is among us again. How someone from above released ‘her’ earlier than planned. But no name has been mentioned, or specifics on what the plan is. I can let you know if I hear of anything else.”

‘Thank you.” John replied. “That would be great.”

“Your son told me he was in some trouble with demons?”

“That’s an understatement. I mean, we’ve been able to avoid them for the last year and a half but it means being very careful and avoiding any hunt that could possibly lead to demonic activity. And our house is a fortress against them.”

Jim nodded. “Not an easy task. Most of the time, when a demon sets its sights on a target, it gets what it wants right away. I’m impressed.”

John put a protective hand on Dean’s shoulder. “No one is going to kill my son.”

“Not from lack of trying.” Dean mumbled. But when John looked, there was a small grin on the boy’s face.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t try to piss off the entire supernatural community…” John started.

“Then he would not be Dean Winchester.” Cas finished.

“Cas!” Dean cried out, trying to sound scandalized.

Everyone laughed. 

“Couldn’t agree more.” Bobby concurred. 

“Oh, great.” Dean complained. “Now everyone’s against me.”

“Perhaps now would be a good time for you to get some rest?” Cas suggested.

“That’s a great idea.” Mary suggested. “You could really use the sleep, sweetie.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded reluctantly. “Guess you’re right. ‘Night Dad, Mom, Bobby, Pastor Jim. See you all in the morning.” 

He hugged John, Bobby, and Jim, then kissed Mary on the cheek. John watched as the boy climbed stiffly up the stairs, Cas right behind him. He wished desperately that he could rewind the whole damned day and just keep the boy safe. Dean didn’t deserve any of this. 

Dean’s departure seemed to have triggered a bedtime alarm, because both Bobby and Mary went off to their separate rooms, John promising his wife that he’d be there in a moment.

“That’s a very unique and amazing child you have there.” Pastor Jim Murphy commented when they were alone.

“I know.” John replied. He’s not sure if it’s the other man’s understanding tone or his son’s trust in the pastor that has him continue talking. “And I just don’t know how to keep him safe. Every damned creature in this whole damned world seems to want a piece of him and Dean… he’s so damned focused of fighting them and keeping us safe. I just… I’m afraid he’s not going to live to see puberty, let alone grow to be an adult. I almost didn’t make it back in time today.”

“But you did. And you seem like you know that you need to stay with him through the aftermath of this as well. So, I have confidence that you and your family will make it through this and all of your other trials with some help and guidance.”

John chuckled. “Is that an offer? Because you just met us and trust me, you don’t know what you’d be signing up for.”

“Actually I was including myself in a list along with God, Bobby, and any other friends you might have. And while I don’t know the story of your lives, I’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”

John looked the other man over. “Somehow I get the feeling that that’s true. My son doesn’t trust many people, hunters or otherwise, but he likes you. Take that as a huge compliment.”

“I will.”

“And I don’t know what the two of you talked about out there, but whatever it was, thank you. He seems… less burdened.”

“What has he been through?” Jim asked.

“Hell.” John replied, knowing that the pastor wouldn’t realize that it was meant literally. 

“I can see that.”

“I think it’s time to call it a night. It was nice to meet you, Pastor Jim.” John was a bit surprised to find that he really meant it. Though he’d been skeptical of his son’s friend at first, he could really see why Dean had gotten along well with this man. And it would be kind of nice to have another contact to add to their books for when they needed help. Especially an expert on demons.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

John shook the other man’s hand before heading off to the room he was staying in. He dressed in his pajamas and stretched out next to his wife, careful not to disturb her. As he closed his eyes, he prayed that his dreams wouldn’t be haunted by images of himself killing his own son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, this will be the last chapter posted until next monday because I'm leaving to go camping and have not yet figured out how to plug my computer into a tree ;)  
> But when I get back, we'll be jumping into a camping trip/wendigo hunt with the Winchesters out in the woods!


	67. Setting up Camp

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Setting up Camp 

The tent poles seemed determined not to snap into place like the directions insisted that they were supposed to do. After over half a dozen tries, Mary felt like snapping the thin metal rods in half. And the box had claimed that the tent could be set up within five minutes. Liars.

“You know, I’m beginning to think that all that ‘we’ll get the fire wood, you girls set up camp here where it’s safer’ stuff was just an excuse to get out of having to help with the tents.” She complained.

Ellen laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past Bill, but Cas doesn’t strike me as the type to pull that crap.”

“No, but he’s gullible enough to fall for Bill’s tricks and go along with him.” Mary insisted. “Which leaves us to fight with these tent poles.”

“Maybe we can con your son into switching jobs with us.” The other woman suggested.

Mary looked over to where Dean was setting up the perimeter of their camp. She sighed. “Nah, Dean’s too smart for that. He’ll know something’s up the moment we ask. Besides, how embarrassed will we feel if he somehow manages to set this thing up in the five minutes it claims to take?”

A sigh was the only answer she got. After another few minutes of fighting and struggling, Mary managed to get half the skeleton of the tent together. The second half proved to be easier and then the task of slipping the slightly too small canvas over the poles was a two woman job. Ellen helped her stretch and pull the material until they got the hooks through the rings and then they stood back to admire their handiwork. 

“Nice.” Ellen commented. “But now we gotta get the other one finished.” She gestured to the poles she’d put together.

“I’m never going on another hunt that requires a camping trip again.” Mary swore. “And if I do, I’m making sure that John can take the time off from work so that he can be here to set up camp.”

“Maybe the tents won’t be as hard to set up the second time around?” Ellen suggested.

“Not even taking the chance.”

Once both tents were set up and staked down, the women sat for a moment, enjoying a drink of water and looking around the clearing they’d chosen to camp in. It was large enough for their two tents, a campfire, and some room to move around. Surrounding their little campsite were trees and the thick overgrowth of the deep forest that they were in, out in the middle of nowhere. Mary turned her head and caught Ellen watching Dean finishing his job of setting up the protection they were going to need so that they wouldn’t end up like the other victims. They were here to kill the wendigo, not become its food. So, Dean was drawing Anazazi symbols in the dirt, carving them in the trees, and painting them on rocks. The boy was nothing if not thorough. 

“I don’t know how you do it. I’m going crazy trying to take care of one two year old girl and you have two young boys at home. You must be out of your mind some days.”

“Some days.” Mary admitted. “Sammy is getting into the ‘I want to do it myself’ stage, but of course he’s still too little to do the things that he claims he can do. The other day I caught him trying to make his own lunch. It took me forever to clean up the kitchen. Of course he did offer to clean it all up himself…”

Ellen chuckled. “Well, that’s something for me to look forwards to. I think I’ll just send Jo to your house until she’s college age.”

“Oh no, I’m not signing up for another!” Mary protested. “As you pointed out, I already have my hands full.”

“How’s everything with Dean?”

Mary studied her son before answering. “Complicated. He’s been through a lot, and he’s holding up well, but… I worry.”

“You’re a mom. It’s in our job description to worry.” Ellen shrugged. “But maybe you’d worry less if you didn’t bring him along on hunts like this.”

And there it was. Mary knew that it was coming, but still, she rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “We’ve been though this, El. Dean can handle himself on a hunt.”

“I know. I’ve seen him in action before, and he’s a better shot than most anyone, but a wendigo hunt is not kid stuff. Hell, I know of several full grown hunters that never made it back from one of these.”

“And you gave a similar argument when we took him out on that black dog hunt last year. He was fine then.”

“Mary…” Ellen trailed off as she looked over at Dean once again. The boy was staring off into space and Mary winced as she realized that her son was probably having one of his now rare, but not completely gone, Hell flashbacks. “What’s his story, Mary? No seven year old can hunt like he does. Not even with all the training in the world. Hell, you and John couldn’t’ve trained him ‘cause he fights better than both of you. And the way he talks and acts… the look in his eyes… and I don’t mean to sound rude, but there’s something deeply wrong with him. I’ve kept my mouth shut about it for over two years now, but there’s far more to his story than you’ve let on.”

“I told you El, my son is on Hell’s most wanted list.”

“And I believe that. But it’s how he got on it that I’m a bit fuzzy about.”

“’Cause they just can’t stand how awesome I am.” Dean commented as he approached them.

Both women jumped, as they hadn’t realized that the boy had gotten that close.

“Dean!” Mary exclaimed.

“The one and only.” The boy smirked as he grabbed his canteen of water. “The perimeter’s set up. No wendigo’s getting in here. Can’t guarantee that we won’t be getting any visits from skunks or bears or anything, but we won’t be monster chow.”

“Well, I’m comforted.” Ellen commented.

Dean looked over at the tents. “Dude, are those going to collapse and suffocate us while we sleep?”

Mary playfully smacked the back of his head. “We set them up just fine.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Well, don’t.” She cut him off with a smile.

“We’re back.” Bill announced, as he stepped over the symbols holding an armful of firewood. Cas was right behind him. They deposited the wood in the center of the clearing.

“You missed all the fun.” Ellen informed her husband. “Next time, you’re setting up the tents.”

“And leave you to trek out into the monster-infested forest to get fire wood? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

By his tone, Mary knew that Ellen was right about her suspicions of him avoiding certain jobs. And apparently the other woman knew it as well.

“You’re a bastard, Bill Harvelle, and I _will_ get you back.”

Cas was looking between them, slightly confused. “I believe he was trying to protect you. Why are you upset?”

“See?” Bill defended himself. “Cas is on my side.”

“Men.” Ellen rolled her eyes.

“Sexist.” Bill shot back, grinning as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Children, behave.” Dean scolded.

Mary shook her head. “Well, why don’t we have an earlier dinner and discuss our strategy so we can get started. It’s going to get dark soon, and we’re not going to be able to leave camp after the sun’s down.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean agreed, rummaging through their cooler bag. They had brought a few cold items and would eat them first since those would go bad quickly.

Over hotdogs and potato chips, the group discussed the hunt.

“That’s a lot of hikers to go missing.” Bill commented. “The pattern certainly fits a wendigo, but the body count is awfully high.”

“It’s the same in the previous years too.” Mary pointed out. “Fourteen disappearances last time. We know that most wendigos don’t take this many victims, but it’s possible that this one is particularly ravenous.”

“Or there’s more than one.” Dean suggested.

“No.” Ellen shook her head. “I’ve never heard of wendigos hunting in pairs or groups before.”

“No one has.” Bill agreed. “They’re too damned greedy. They’d kill each other over food.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

“It’s more likely that this one might not be as old as some of the others.” Bill theorized. “It probably hasn’t learned how to make its food last yet. So it needs more.”

“Perhaps it’s ill or mutated.” Cas suggested. 

“Rabid wendigo. There’s a happy thought.” Dean muttered.

Mary shook her head. “They seem immune to most illnesses. I suppose mutation is possible. But the reason behind its appetite isn’t that important. Right now we should focus on trying to track it down to its lair. Did you guys see anything while you were avoiding setting up camp by going out to get firewood?”

“No signs. But then, you didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?” Bill replied. “These things only leave a trail if they want to be found.” 

“Well, investigating previous attack scenes probably won’t help either.” Ellen added.

“We should go over the maps and check off the most likely areas.” Dean suggested. “Any abandoned mines, or deep caves, or crap like that.” He looked around. “You know, unless they decide to pay us a visit first.”

“Even if it shows up here, we’ll never get a clear shot.” Bill mentioned.

Mary nodded. “Wendigos are fast and smart. If it comes here and sees the symbols, it’ll make sure to stay far enough away to avoid us.”

“But that won’t deter it from wanting to make a meal out of us.” Ellen countered.

“No, it won’t.” Mary concurred.

“So, we hunt it while it hunts us.” Bill shrugged. “Just another day in the office.”

They spread out the maps and started looking over them, marking possible hiding spots for the wendigo in black and the areas that the hikers were attacked in red. Mary noticed that Dean had wandered off to the edge of the camp and was looking out into the trees. She got up to walk over and join him.

“I don’t think it’s going to magically appear just because you stare hard enough.”

Dean shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Is this about your multiple wendigo theory being dismissed?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I get why it seems farfetched. Not upset over it.”

Mary placed her hand around his back and on his opposite shoulder, looking out into the woods with him. “Then what’s troubling you?”

“This hunt.” Dean lowered his voice. “It’s bringing back memories. My last wendigo hunt… it was with Sam, back right after Dad had left me and we were searching for him and… I don’t know. It’s just…” Dean sighed. 

Mary didn’t know what to say. It was always strange hearing her son talk about the times from before, when he and his brother were adults. Dean didn’t tell stories often, opening up only when pressed or when he needed to give them information, so when he got like this, she knew that he was really feeling nostalgic. 

“How did it turn out?”

Dean smirked. “I fried the monster, we saved a family, and we all got out with only minor injuries.”

“Well, that’s encouraging.”

The boy nodded. “’Course there was only one of them that time.”

“Dean.” Mary warned. It wasn’t that she didn’t think his theory was possible, it was just that it wasn’t likely and by him constantly bringing it up, he’d only annoy the others. Of course, knowing her son, that was exactly why he was doing it.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“Hey, you two!” Ellen called. “We have three possibilities. Want to come take a look at the map?”

“Coming.” Mary responded. She looked down at Dean, who had tilted his face up to see her. “We can talk more tonight about, you know, before.”

Dean nodded, but Mary got the feeling that he’d get a handle on his emotions by then and there’d be no more talk of that hunt. She followed her son over to the Harvelles and Cas to take a look at the map and start planning their hunt. They needed to take the wendigo out before there were any further casualties, including anyone from their little party.


	68. Ambush

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Ambush 

Dean studied the map silently as the others pointed out the caves that they had circled. They were discussing which would be most likely due to how extensive the cave system was and the distance they each were from the attack sites. The small hunter stayed quiet, knowing that his input would most likely be dismissed again by the Harvelles. Dean knew that he shouldn’t blame them. While they’d seen him take out monsters with guns and knives and such, they figured that he was still just a kid and had little experience when it came to research and no real knowledge of the paranormal. Their easy dismissal of his multiple wendigo theory had proved that. But while Dean knew why they acted this way, it still hurt. He kind of wanted their respect and instead was being treated like the kid that he appeared to be. It sucked. The boy suppressed a sigh. Then he figured screw it. He was Dean Winchester, and he didn’t just back down just ‘cause others didn’t feel like listening to what he had to say.

One of the caves was much too small and Dean mentally rejected it as a possibility. Ellen had suggested it since it was the most central to the attacks, but one look at its depth and the youngest hunter knew that the wendigo wouldn’t choose it to hide in. The other two were much more extensive and offered more hiding spots. Dean wasn’t sure if relation to the attacks was actually relevant to figuring out which cave was the wendigo’s lair. After all, the creature was fast and would willingly travel the extra distance to get to its victims. 

“One of these two.” Dean pointed to the spots on the map. After he explained his reasoning, he got up to toss some more wood onto the campfire, leaving them to debate the information he’d passed along. 

Once the fire was roaring, Dean sat down on the ground, picked up a stick, pulled a marshmallow out of his jacket pocket, and stuck it on the sharpest end. He held the gooey treat over the fire and watched it slowly turn a light golden color. The young hunter kept an ear on the conversation that the others were having. His mom was defending his point of view, while Bill was trying to convince her that the cave that Dean had dismissed might still be worth checking out. Cas was staying quiet, like he usually did during debates like this, and Ellen was insisting that distance was an important factor. Dean understood why she’d think so. This was her first wendigo hunt and she actually had only been a hunter for about five years. An amateur. But then Bill pointed out that Dean was only a kid and really couldn’t strategize yet. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled the hot, melted marshmallow off the stick and shoved it into his mouth. Damn, but that was good. Burned the hell out of his tongue, but it tasted like heaven. And then Dean heard his mom trying to defend him and Dean had had enough of staying out of the conversation. Laying low was not his style. He swallowed the marshmallow, got up, and turned to face the other hunters.

“Hey! I’m right here and can hear every hushed word you guys are saying.” They all had the sense to look slightly embarrassed. “Now look, I’m a hunter and I’ve killed a hell of a lot of sons of bitches in the last couple of years and it’s not been by accident or coincidence. I know what I’m talking about. You got a different opinion than me, that’s fine, but don’t dismiss me just ‘cause I’m too short to ride rollercoasters, got it?”

“Dean, I know that you’re an excellent hunter,” Bill started. “But experience-wise, the rest of us know a bit more.”

“Uh huh.” Dean crossed his arms. “How many wendigos have you ganked?”

“Well, none…”

“Then I don’t think you have one up on me. So why don’t we all put our heads together and figure this bitch out?”

There was a moment of silence and then Bill nodded. “Fair enough.”

After a brief moment, Mary spoke. “Tomorrow we should head east. That cave system is the deepest and might be the most attractive to the wendigo.”

Dean held his breath, since the plan that she was proposing was basically his. After a moment both Ellen and Bill agreed and the boy found that he could breathe again. 

Not long afterwards, everyone went to bed, Bill and Ellen in one tent and Cas, Dean, and his mom in the other. Dean knew that his mom wanted to continue their conversation from earlier, but he immediately rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, claiming fatigue. In reality, he just didn’t want to share his feelings. He had no clue why he’d brought the subject up earlier. It wasn’t like Dean could really discuss it with his mom. What was he supposed to say? _Well, Mom, this hunt is bringing back some memories for me and I find myself missing parts of my previous life, mostly the adult version of my younger brother._ Dean didn’t think about stuff like that often. He was thrilled that Sammy got a chance to live his life without all the crap that he’d had to go through the first time around, but sometimes the young hunter just missed the brother that he’d raised all those years; his partner in crime. And since the wendigo hunt had been one of their first that they’d completed together after hooking up again after Sammy’s college years, this hunt was just a huge reminder to Dean of all of that. But Dean swallowed it back and tried to ignore it, as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to sleep. No sense troubling anyone else with his crap.

After breakfast the next morning, the group of hunters headed out of their protected camp and started off towards the cave. It would take hours to reach it and Dean knew that if it was a bad lead they’d end up wasting the entire day. The small hunter thought that this was probably the correct cave but there was also the possibility that the second cave he’d pointed out was the right one. 

Bill was leading their group, followed by Ellen, then Dean, Cas, and Mary was bringing up the rear. They carried an arrangement of weapons ranging from flare guns to flame throwers (Dean’s was a smaller homemade model) to lighter fluid and matches. They were certainly ready for the wendigo. Or wendigos, as Dean was still convinced they were dealing with more than one. 

As they hiked, Dean kept his eyes open for any signs of the creature. He wasn’t expecting to find any, so he was a bit surprised when, about two and a half hours in to their trip, he saw something partially buried in the dirt.

“Hold up, guys. I see something!” 

The boy broke away from the group and ran a couple yards away to crouch down by a patch of disturbed dirt where he saw a mostly buried piece of cloth. Dean pulled it out and held it up where he and the others could see it. It was a torn piece of denim covered in dried blood. It couldn’t have been there very long at all.

“It must belong to one of the victims.” Ellen commented. 

“But none of the hikers disappeared anywhere near this area.” Dean’s mom pointed out.

“Then we must be on the right track.” Bill stated. “The wendigo must’ve taken him this way.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean muttered. 

“Good catch, Dean.” Bill approved. “Let’s continue on. But keep our eyes out for anything else like this.”

As they started off again, Dean matched pace with the older hunter. “Hey Bill, aren’t you the one who said that wendigos only leave a trail if they want to be found?”

“Well yeah, but I meant footprints, claw marks, and such. One piece of bloody cloth isn’t exactly a trail.” Then he looked down at the boy. “You think it was left there on purpose?”

“It rained two days ago. The scrap of denim wasn’t out there then. I think it was put there last night. The wendigo knows we’re here.”

Bill seemed to think over what Dean had said. “I think you’re right. And if that’s the case, then there’s no way in hell that this beast is going to let us anywhere near its lair.”

“Right.” Dean nodded. “It’ll probably leave more scraps to distract us and then set an ambush.”

“So, we ignore any clues and continue on to the cave.” Bill suggested.

The boy bit his lip thoughtfully. “That could work, but if we bypass its trap, it could just get pissed and jump us. There’s enough of us that we’d win, but not without casualties.”

“Not acceptable.” Bill insisted.

“My thoughts exactly.” Dean agreed.

“So plan B is…”

“We set up our own ambush.”

Bill nodded. “Half of us continue onwards and let ourselves ‘become distracted’ by the trail the wendigo left and the others circle around on either side and ambush it when it tries to jump us.”

Dean grinned. “Awesome.” 

“And I suppose you think that you two will be the bait?” 

Dean turned to face Ellen. “Yep.” He hadn’t even realized that the others had gotten close enough to overhear everything.

“No,” His mom said. “Absolutely not.”

“I will fulfill that role alongside Bill.” Cas offered.

“Who said Bill is doing it at all?” Ellen asked.

“I did.” Bill answered. “Think of it as me making up for not helping with the tent yesterday.”

“It makes sense.” Dean’s mom interjected. “The wendigo knows there are hunters here. It’ll expect men. Bill and Cas look the most like hunters. They can draw its attention while Dean, you, and I can quietly sneak around behind it and ambush it. It wouldn’t see us as threats.”

Ellen didn’t look convinced but finally nodded. She kissed her husband but purposefully didn’t say goodbye. 

Dean watched Cas and Bill walk off and then turned to his mom. “Okay, you take the right, Ellen you go left.”

“And you?”

Dean grinned. “I’m taking a different approach.”

His mom gave him an odd look before kissing him on the head. “Please be careful.”

“Always am.”

“And yet we’re always stitching you back up.”

“Hazards of the job.” Dean shrugged. 

Once the women were out of sight, the small hunter ran after the Bill and Cas. He stayed out of sight, ducking behind trees and bushes, moving as quickly and quietly as possible. Dean kept a close eye on them, watching as they stopped to check out another purposefully left clue and then continued on their way. 

It was a while later when all of Dean’s hunter’s instincts screamed at him that something was incredibly wrong. Even if they hadn’t discussed an impending attack, he’d have known that something bad was about to happen. Dean wasted no time in climbing up the nearest tree. He pulled himself up from one branch to the next until he was pretty high up. The he carefully swung himself into the adjacent tree. It wasn’t the easiest way to travel, but he was now ready for the wendigo to strike.

And then it happened. Cas and Bill had stopped in a tiny clearing and were crouched down looking at something half buried in the dirt. Dean watched them from high above and then caught a flash of movement in the trees below himself and to the right. He kept quiet though. Yelling out a warning would ruin their ambush. The young hunter tensed up, knowing the time for action had come. Seconds later, a thin pale figure dropped from the trees and hit Bill with such force that the hunter was thrown back several feet, as the creature landed on Cas, who was forced to the ground. Dean knew that his mom and Ellen had to be nearby but he couldn’t wait for them. He had to act now. The boy pulled his flamethrower out from where he’d tucked it into his backpack, held it tightly in both hands, and dropped down onto the wendigo right below him.


	69. Wendigo

Chapter Sixty-Nine: Wendigo 

Bill had known that the ambush was coming, yet somehow the damned wendigo still took him by surprise. One minute he was inspecting yet another bloodstained piece of cloth, and the next something was hitting him hard in the chest. The hunter was thrown to the ground and he felt his head collide with something hard. _Probably a rock._ his brain supplied unhelpfully. He blinked his eyes rapidly and turned his aching head just in time to see something small drop down from the trees. At first Bill thought that maybe Dean had been right and that there was a second wendigo, and a child-sized one at that, but then he realized that the figure was in fact the young hunter himself. And the kid had just jumped down onto the wendigo, knocking it to the ground and off of Cas.

Bill watched as Dean turned the nozzle of his flamethrower downward, obviously intending to roast the creature while he himself was still standing on it. But then the creature reached up and grabbed onto the boy and threw him across the clearing and into a tree. Bill’s fuzzy mind thought _Damn, those things have long arms_. 

He tried to get to his feet to help, but a wave of nausea and some floating black spots had other ideas. When his vision cleared, Bill saw that Ellen and Mary had arrived. His wife was taking aim with her flare gun, but just as she pulled the trigger, the wendigo blurred out of the way and the shot missed. Mary took a shot with her flare gun, but with similar results. Bill hoped that they didn’t end up burning the forest down.

He must’ve blacked out for a moment, but when the world came back into focus, Cas was standing next to him protectively and both he and Ellen were now holding flamethrowers. Bill sat up slowly, feeling a bit dizzy as blood slowly trickled down the side of his face, and took a look around. He couldn’t see Mary, Dean, or the wendigo. 

“Where…” He asked.

“In the woods.” Cas answered. “It’s hunting us still.”

Ellen turned and had opened her mouth to say something when suddenly Dean’s voice cried out. “Ellen! Behind you!”

Bill watched as his wife threw herself to the side just as a clawed hand came right out of the trees and swept right where her head would’ve been. Ellen dove onto the ground, rolled, and came to her feet, aiming her weapon at the wendigo. Or where it had been. The damned thing was moving too fast. But Mary appeared near the edge out the woods and fired another flare at the area the creature disappeared into. The thing roared, but in anger, not pain. It leapt and its clawed hand slashed at the woman. Bill watched as Mary backed up, but not fast enough. She cried out as bloody cuts appeared on her left shoulder.

“Mom!”

Bill looked up and saw that Dean had once again ended up above them, acting as lookout. 

“I’m alright!” Mary called back.

Bill glanced over and saw that somehow Mary was across the clearing and now Cas was by her side. What the hell? How had they moved so fast?

The hunter struggled to his feet, pulling out his own flare gun. With his vision not at one hundred percent, he knew that he had no chance of actually hitting the wendigo if he shot at it, but he felt better holding a weapon. Besides, he was actually starting to feel a bit better. Maybe not well enough to tangle with this creature on his own, but he could definitely back the others up. 

He swept his gaze around the small clearing and saw a slight movement in the bushes, but wasn’t sure whether it was the wendigo or not. Bill squinted his eyes and aimed his flare gun but a barely audible “Nope.” from Dean had him continuing to scan the area. He saw Cas and Ellen step closer to him as they drew together to stand with their backs together for protection. Mary was moving to join them from their left when a movement from their right caught Bill’s attention. 

“Watch out!” He yelled.

“Get down!” Dean called.

Cas pushed him to the ground, cradling his head carefully so that it wouldn’t get hurt further, as Dean dropped down to pull Ellen to the forest floor. The reason why became clear a second later as something sailed over their heads. Bill turned to see the object strike the wendigo and shatter. The creature screeched as it erupted into flames. It burned bright and stumbled back as it howled for a few seconds, but the fire ate it away within no time at all. The horrific scene was over almost before it began. 

As they all got back up, Cas helping Bill, the hunter turned to face Mary. “Did you just kill the wendigo with a molotov cocktail?”

She shrugged. “I ran out of flares.”

“Dude, that was awesome.” Dean commented.

“Speaking of flares,” Ellen started. “We should make sure that none of our misfires are going to burn down these trees.”

“I made sure they won’t.” Cas informed them.

“How?” Bill wanted to know.

“With water.”

“Yeah,” Ellen didn’t sound convinced. Truthfully, neither was Bill. “What water? Your canteen?”

“He peed on it.” Dean rolled his eyes and Bill had to suppress his laughter. “What does it matter? Cas took care of it. Now we gotta hurry up and get to the cave.”

“Why?” Bill asked. “The wendigo is dead.”

“Yeah, but it sure as hell didn’t want us anywhere near its lair. And I’m thinking that might be ‘cause at least one of its victims is still alive.” 

“It was protecting its food source.” Ellen stated.

Dean nodded. “And they’re probably injured so we can’t waste any time. Let’s patch up any wounds that might need patching up and then head out.”

Both Mary and himself needed a few butterfly bandages and some gauze and then they were on their way. Bill couldn’t stop thinking about all the questions that this hunt was bringing up though. First off, there was Dean. Dean, who hunted like no seven year old had the right to hunt. And who came up with strategies and plans better than the adults in their group. And who just didn’t talk or act like a kid at all. And why wasn’t this little guy ever afraid? But now there was also Cas. Cas who was always just a little bit… off. And who moved a bit too fast and put out fires with nothing. What exactly was up with the Winchesters? Bill would never know because the family would never give them a straight answer. But after this hunt, he was sure as hell going to try and find out.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean took the lead this time and was a bit surprised when no one objected. Of course, both his mom and Bill were injured and Ellen was bringing up the rear, which left Cas, who wouldn’t argue with Dean, so the young hunter really shouldn’t have been shocked that he hadn’t been challenged, but still…

The boy sighed. He had a feeling that this hunt was going to bring up even more questions about his family. They’d lucked out that both Bill and Ellen had been looking up at him when Cas had transported Dean’s mom across the clearing, but he knew that at least one of the Harvelles would probably question the speed in which they’d moved. And now the whole putting out the fires thing was going to be an issue too. Not to mention that Dean himself was constantly a topic of conversation. But he couldn’t reveal the truth. Demons would stop at nothing to get the real story on Dean Winchester and the young hunter feared that anyone who knew it might be put at risk. He couldn’t do that to Bill and Ellen. Not to mention little Jo. 

Dean suppressed a groan as his backpack shifted and bumped what would be one helluva a bruise by the next day. Being thrown into a tree hurt like a bitch. But he considered himself lucky. He had walked away from that battle with not a scratch on him. But he was gearing up for the possibility of another battle. Because they were walking into the wendigo’s cave and if there was more than one of those bastards, then it might not be empty. And two-fifths of their group were now injured. But Dean would be ready.

It took slightly longer than expected to hike all the way out to the cave, and Dean was hoping that they’d have time to check out the entire cave, rescue any living victims, and get out before it got dark. Anything else would totally suck.

When they got there, Dean pulled out his flashlight, turned it on, and led the way carefully down into the dark, dank cave system. He was keeping an ear out for any noises but it was hard since the others weren’t stepping quietly. 

“Shhh.” Dean hissed back at them. “Keep it down!”

“What’s up?” Ellen asked.

“I don’t want us making any noise in case there’s another wendigo.”

“We went over this.” Bill muttered.

“No,” Dean rolled his eyes. “ _I_ said there’s two and _you_ said there’s not and expected me to just drop my theory in favor of yours.”

“Dean, do you know how wendigo’s come to exist?” Bill asked.

“Yeah. They are people that turn cannibal that turn wendigo.”

“Well, that’s putting it a bit simplistically, but yes, that’s basically it. And they are constantly hungry. So, there could never be two that turn because eventually one would just get so hungry that they’d eat the other.”

“Fourteen victims last time.” Dean argued.

“No, fourteen missing persons.” Ellen countered. “Some might not have even been victims. There are one or two people that go missing in this area every year.”

Dean shook his head. “Look, I don’t buy it. Nor do I think that the one we encountered had something wrong with it. Please, trust me on this. I think I’ve earned it.”

No one said anything. Dean knew that his mom and Cas were staying out of it, trying to give him the respect of fighting his own battle rather than rushing to his rescue. And whether Bill and Ellen were listening to him or ignoring him Dean didn’t know, but at least it was quiet now and he could listen for any sign of the second wendigo. 

A few minutes later, the slope on the rocky ground got severely steep. The group of hunters walked sideways and proceeded slowly, occasionally slipping, but not sliding or falling. Once they were again on semi-even ground, they picked up their pace a bit but still kept as silent as possible. Whenever they came to a fork in the path, Dean chose the tunnel that lead downward, knowing that it would seem the most attractive to the wendigo. He marked their trail with a piece of chalk he’d brought along for just this sort of situation. After a while, the young hunter knew that he’d found the right spot when he almost stepped on a human skull. 

Dean walked into the cavern and looked around. Nothing seemed to be moving, but there were a few bodies tied up and lying around the large space. He crept into the open area, still keeping an eye out for anything that might mean his family and friends harm, and moved over to the first body. A middle aged man dressed in hunting clothes was torn open and clearly dead. Next was a twenty-something guy who was covered in blood, but Dean took his pulse to see if he was still alive. He wasn’t. Next was a red haired teenager, dressed in torn jeans and a black Metallica t-shirt. His face was cut up a bit and he looked like hell. Dean reached out to take his pulse and the guy jerked away and made a small noise of protest.

“Hey, it’s okay, man.” Dean comforted. “We’re getting you outta here.” He motioned the others over before moving on to the next victim.

The next guy was… the same person but in a blue polo instead of a rock band tee. What the… oh, they must be twins. Dean took twin-guy’s pulse and felt a weak but semi-steady beat. 

“’Nother live one.” He called quietly, before moving on.

The next was a dead guy in denim and flannel and then a dead chick in way less than anyone hiking had a right to be wearing. Did hookers service out here in the middle of nowhere? Then was a mess of torn flesh and bone that used to be a guy. Finally Dean came to a girl in her early twenties who was dressed for a hike but her clothes were shredded, as was some of her skin. But she opened her eyes as Dean crouched down near her.

“Who…”

“My name’s Dean. We’re here to help.”

“It… it ate them…”

“I know. But you’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you outta here. Don’t worry.”

“You’re… you’re not park rangers. Too young.”

Dean grinned. “Nah, we’re better. Just hold on, okay?”

She nodded, her long black hair falling in her face and sticking in the tacky blood that coated her skin. Dean reached out and brushed it away gently. His mom knelt down next to him a moment later. 

“Let’s get these ropes off of her.” Dean watched his mother cut the girl free of her bindings and help the young woman up. 

The small hunter rejoined the others to see Metallica-twin blinking up at him while Polo-twin still lay on the ground unconscious. 

“That’s it for survivors.” Dean commented. 

Ellen looked the three young victims over. “We should patch them up a bit and then get them out of these woods. We can always go back for the tents afterwards.”

“Agreed.” Mary nodded.

“I don’t believe we’ll have the time to provide first aid.” Cas spoke up.

“Why not?” Bill asked.

Dean knew the answer before Cas responded. “There is something in here with us.”


	70. What Are You

Chapter Seventy: What Are You

“Cas, go with Mom and get the victims out of here.” Dean ordered. “Bill, Ellen, and I will take care of the other wendigo.” He turned to the Harvelles. “And don’t bother telling me there isn’t another one, ‘cause there is. And it’s coming for us.” 

“Dean…” His mom started to protest.

“Mom, you and Cas can get them out of here _fast_ if need be.” He was letting her know that they could teleport if they had to. The victims could be talked into silence. But Bill and Ellen could not know about the angel’s abilities. And Dean wasn’t going to leave them alone here to face the ravenous creature. “It’s the best plan. Please. Go.”

“Alright.” She nodded reluctantly and helped Metallica-twin to his feet, while Cas picked up Polo-twin. The young woman was limping behind them as they left the cavern.

Dean let out a sigh of relief as they exited. At least his injured mom would be safe now. The first wendigo had torn up her arm pretty badly and while she’d brushed it off as nothing, Dean had been concerned that it would impair her ability to fight. Now he just had to make sure that Bill’s concussion didn’t get the older hunter killed.

“So, what now?” Ellen asked.

“We wait.” Dean replied. “It knows we’re here and we have a much better chance of fighting it in here than in the narrow tunnels. If we get cornered by it, we’re as good as dead. I’ll guard this entrance. Bill, you take the one to our left. Ellen, you get the one on the far wall.”

“Dean, we’re wasting time.” Bill insisted.

“Humor me.”

“Fine, but only for a while.” 

The other hunters hadn’t even reached their posts when suddenly dirt and rocks rained down from above as it seemed like the whole roof was caving in on them. Dean dropped to his knees and threw his hands over his head to protect himself. Through the rubble, debris, and dust, he saw the figure of the wendigo drop down into a crouch and then rise to stand above the scattered hunters. It let out a howl. 

Dean looked over its figure and his eyebrows rose in surprise. “Whoa! I think that one used to be a chick!”

“The other one had to have been its mate.” Bill commented from where he was lying on the ground, pinned under pieces of rocks.

“Yeah, and now she’s pissed ‘cause she’s too damned ugly to get laid by anyone else.” Dean smirked.

As if it knew what was being said, the female wendigo howled again and looked at each one of them, as if to determine which one was the biggest threat. Bill was still on the ground, concussed and under debris. Ellen was on her hands and knees, trying to find her flare gun. Dean stood, ready for a fight, but he too was weaponless. The creature however looked quite deadly. It was a bit smaller and thinner than its male counterpart, but its claws were just as long and sharp. And it was twice as pissed. Its small, rounded breasts heaved in and out rapidly as its anger grew and Dean knew that the thing was well aware of what they had done to its mate. 

It turned and went to run at Ellen, but Dean was already moving. He ran and dove forwards tackling the wendigo around the legs and dragging it to the ground with him. It went to take a swipe at him, but the small hunter rolled away and ended up with torn clothes but nothing more. The thing tried again, but Dean scrambled away and turned around, squirting it with the small bottle of lighter fluid that he’d kept in his jacket pocket. The wendigo got back to its feet but had no time to attack again, because the boy was right there with a lighter in his hand. He flicked it on and pushed the small flame up into the wendigo’s ribs and watched with extreme satisfaction as the creature caught fire. Unfortunately, so did his denim jacket sleeve.

“Sonofabitch!” Dean screamed, as he stumbled back, struggling out of his jacket. He threw it to the ground and stomped out the flames. By the time he glanced back up, he saw that the wendigo was gone, burnt away to nothing. “Score two for the good guys!”

Dean turned around to see Ellen helping Bill to his feet. He grinned at them but his smile faded as Bill stared at him with wide eyes.

“What are you?”

Dean blinked, not knowing whether to laugh, cry, or scream at the accusation. “What?”

“The way you hunt, the way you kill. What are you?”

“A hunter.” Dean replied, a bit uncomfortably.

“Uh huh.” Bill stepped forwards, hand in his pocket and before Dean could react, the boy was splashed in the face with water.

“Holy water? Really?” Dean wiped his eyes with his arm. “Not a demon. And if you get a silver knife anywhere near me, I’m gonna be pissed. And I’ll kick your ass. I’m human, man.”

“You’re not normal.” Ellen insisted.

“Boy, you know how to hurt a guy’s feelings.” It was said flippantly, but deep down, it was the truth. “I just saved our asses from something you two insisted couldn’t possibly exist, and now you’re saying crap about me. And when my family isn’t around to defend me. Nice.”

“Dean…” Ellen started.

“No! You don’t get to ‘Dean’ me. A moment ago you were splashing me with holy water and now you’re putting on your ‘let’s play nice’ voice? Hell, no!” 

“Fine, then!” Bill yelled. “We won’t ‘play nice’. But we will still get answers. What the hell is up with you? Because you’re not just some kid that knows how to hunt, that’s for sure. You’re a damned expert! And you’re ruthless. And just… not normal. So, I repeat; what are you?”

“I thought I was you’re friend.” Dean practically snarled at him. “But now I’m second guessing that.”

“Don’t be like that.” Ellen interrupted.

“Like what? Ruthless? Or not normal? Or am I doing something else wrong now?”

“Dean, we just want to know what’s wrong with you.”

“Oh, so now there’s something wrong with me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you meant it _exactly_ like that.” Dean shot back. 

Bill sighed. “We just… we just want to know what your story is Dean. And don’t give us the same ‘demons are after you’ line. There’s more to it than that. You’re not just a regular kid. You’re too good at this. Too well-trained. Too intelligent. Too experienced.”

“It’s like you’re too old to be only seven.” Ellen added, and Dean felt his heart sink. “Is that it? Are you somehow older than you look? Like… you age slowly somehow?”

Dean shook his head. “No. You’ve known me for over two years now. You can see that I’m aging just fine.” He crossed his arms. “And by the way, if that were true, it would mean that my mom was older too, and I don’t think she’d be too happy to hear that theory.”

“Okay, so you age normally, but how old are you?” Bill asked.

Dean shook his head. “Stop. Please, just stop asking me questions.” He felt tears coming to his eyes.

“Dean, we just want to know…”

“And you can’t! You can’t know the truth!” Dean shouted. He saw them both take a step back. “See this?” Dean pointed to the thin, light scar on the right side of his face. “This is what happens when you know the truth. And one of Hell’s most feared demons wrapped a freakin’ chain around my throat and tried to drag me off to God knows where to do God knows what to me to get the truth outta me at our last encounter. And before that he broke my arm and threw me from a second story window. All to discover my story. My secrets are putting me in constant danger. I can’t… I can’t let you anywhere near this. I can’t take the chance that Hell finds out and comes after you guys. I won’t do that to you. I won’t. It’s bad enough that my family is in danger, but I can’t risk my friends too. Maybe someday it’ll be safe enough for you to know. Or the crap’ll hit the fan and you’ll find out one way or another, but this isn’t that day. For today, I’m asking you to please drop this. Please.” 

Dean didn’t even realize that he was shaking with emotion or that tears were running down his face until Ellen stepped forward, put one gentle but firm hand on his shoulder to steady him, and wiped the wetness from his cheeks.

“We didn’t mean to push, Dean. I admit to being curious, but more so, we thought that by knowing we could help. It’s obvious that you’ve known pain in your past.”

“I don’t want you to know the same pain.” Dean whispered truthfully.

“You’re a good kid.” Bill commented. “And when you feel that you can tell us your story, I’d love to hear it.”

Dean nodded, the lump in his throat preventing him from talking.

“I suppose Cas’ story is linked to yours and thus, we can’t know that one either?” Bill raised an eyebrow.

Dean shrugged and nodded again.

“Can he use magic or something?” Ellen questioned.

“Or something. Now, if our moment’s over, we should head out. The stink of roast wendigo is totally gonna make me puke. ‘Sides, I wanna get outta these woods before midnight.” Dean stepped away from the woman and turned to pick up his ruined denim jacket. He pulled it on, hissing as it brushed against the slightly burned skin of his arm. Then he grabbed his pack and led the way back out of the cave.

Luckily, they didn’t get lost as their group trudged back out of the underground caverns and soon they emerged into the darkening woods. Dean stayed quiet, not sure what to think about their previous conversation. While he understood their questions and their reasoning, he was a bit hurt by their reactions to him. He knew he could be a bit unnerving to be around when he was hunting, but was he really bad enough to be considered worthy of the holy water test? And he wasn’t touching the ‘What are you’ question. Still, he liked the Harvelles and they had the best of intentions…

Dean sighed. He knew that there was a chance that demons could still go after his friends, but he figured that it was less likely if they didn’t know anything. After all, while Alastair _had_ questioned his mom during their last encounter, it had been Dean himself that the demon had been about to kidnap to torture the truth out of. Dean figured that it was because Alastair couldn’t be one hundred percent certain that his mom would be able to provide all the answers he’d needed. So, in the young hunter’s mind, the less others knew, the better off they were. But Dean kinda wished that he could tell them. Yeah, they might think of him as a freak, but at least he could be honest with them and let them really get to know the real him. It would be nice to get the weight of the secrets off of his shoulders. But the weight of their deaths would not be worth it should the worst come to pass.

It was long past dark when they reached the parking lot near the edge of the forest. Dean was exhausted and was stumbling over his own feet as he stepped from the bushes and onto the blacktop. He knew by the lack of ambulances and police cars that Cas had taken the victims straight to the hospital. Great, that would mean more questions from the Harvelles.

“Dean!”

The boy looked up to see his mom running towards him, Cas walking right behind her. “It’s okay, Mom. We’re fine. The wendigo’s dead.”

“So there _was_ a second one.” Dean didn’t miss how she looked straight at the Harvelles as she said it.

“Yeah. It was a chick. My guess is that they were a couple before they became those things. That’s why they never ate each other.”

His mom’s eyes widened. “You don’t think… I mean, there aren’t any baby wendigos running around out here, are there?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah. A wendigo’s drive is to feed and sleep. Not to mate. Besides, I got a good look at both of them and let’s just say I don’t think either of them were… uh… properly _equipped_ to make babies.”

“Where are the survivors?” Ellen asked, looking around.

“At the hospital.” Cas replied.

“The ambulances left already? We weren’t that far behind you?”

Dean’s mom shrugged. “I guess they were in a hurry.”

“Uh huh.” It was obvious that Ellen wasn’t buying the story, but she wasn’t pushing for answers either. “Well, we should all head to a motel or something for the night and then come back tomorrow to go pick up camp.”

“All the supplies left behind are ours, so we can handle it ourselves if you and Bill want to start heading back home. No sense everyone wasting the entire day tomorrow. Especially with Jo waiting for Mommy and Daddy back home.”

Bill nodded carefully. “If you don’t mind…”

Dean watched his mom smile. “Not at all.”

They exchanged goodbyes and watched the Harvelles drive off. Then Dean turned to his mom. “I’m guessing you sent them off so that we could take the angel transport back to camp tomorrow.”

“No way am I hiking again.”

Dean laughed, but then it became a yawn as his exhaustion took over. “Sounds good to me. So, I say we go back home for the night and come back tomorrow to clean up.”

His mom picked him up and kissed his forehead. “Wonderful idea. I’ve had enough camping to last a looong time.”

Dean put his head down on her shoulder and was starting to drift off even as Cas touched his back to transport them home.


	71. Unfinished Hunt

Chapter Seventy-One: Unfinished Hunt 

“Dean Winchester! Just because you seem to think that you are our resident genius, it does not mean that you can sleep during class!”

Dean lifted his head up off of his desk to face the rather annoyed-looking expression on Mr. Pearce’s face. The teacher had had it out for him since the first day of school, not liking the idea of having a seven year old in his fourth grade class, and was trying to make Dean’s life miserable. Of course, compared to demons and the like, an irate teacher was nothing, but still, the boy started off each day by quietly whispering ‘Christo’ in the man’s presence just in case. 

“First off, I wasn’t sleeping. I just had my head down because the lights were bugging my eyes. And second, I never claimed to be a genius. But thanks for the compliment.” Dean responded. 

Several kids started to giggle, which only served to further piss off the teacher. Yeah, his relations with Mr. Pearce were not going to improve. 

“Well, why don’t you keep your oh so delicate eyes up so you can see what I’m writing on the blackboard?”

“Because you wrote that up within the first five minutes of class and I already copied it into my notebook.” Dean informed him, showing him the page where he’d written down the information on the original thirteen states. 

Mr. Pearce tore the page from his notebook, crumbled it up, and threw it into the trash. “And now you can do it again.”

Dean glared daggers into the asshole’s back as the teacher turned to the blackboard and erased all of the writing. 

After the way the previous day’s hunt had gone, he really didn’t need this crap. They’d found the nest of ocrases early Sunday but the small creatures had scattered; some fleeing while others had attacked. The Winchesters had done their best to take them all out, but it wasn’t easy. Despite their small size, ocrases were hard to kill. Their bodies needed to be almost completely destroyed for them to stop moving. Usually being burned to ashes, chopped to pieces, or blown to bits were the preferred kill methods. They were also really vicious and once they got near their prey, their usually tiny mouths would stretch into a huge gaping maw filled with razor sharp teeth. The name ‘ocras’ translated from Irish to mean ‘hunger’ and the little beasts constantly tried to take a bite of whoever they got close to. Dean’s ankle was proof of that. In the end, they’d gotten most of the nest, but some had gotten away and although they’d search well into the early morning hours (leading to Dean’s aversion to the classroom lights this day), they’d never caught up to the runaways. Which was incredibly bad news. When more than one ocras got away, they’d hide somewhere where no hunter would find them and they’d spend the next six to eight months mating. And those things did it like rabbits. By the spring, there would be a whole new nest and that would be the only time they’d come back out of hiding. And then the Winchesters would have to start from square one.

“Mr. Pearce, the freak is bleeding.” Collin called out.

Dean looked over to the moron who sat in the row to his right and then down to his ankle. Sure enough, there was blood leaking through his sock and dripping down his shoe to start a small puddle onto the floor. Great. Perfect. Just what he needed. 

Mr. Pearce walked down the aisle and stopped in front of Dean’s desk. “Mr. Winchester, what is the meaning of this?”

Dean rolled his eyes. Like he was bleeding on the floor on purpose, right? “Sorry if my bleeding is interrupting your class, sir. I got bit by a dog yesterday. Was in the ER until late last night. Guess it opened back up. I’ll go to the nurse’s office, if that’s alright with you.”

“Watch the attitude, Winchester. Will someone volunteer to go with him to the nurse’s office?”

Dean suppressed a groan. He knew that most of his classmates wouldn’t want to do it. They were two years older than him and considered him a baby and a freak. Some didn’t seem to mind him, even finding his comments funny, but none were really his friends. The last time someone volunteered to be his partner on an assignment, it was for an opportunity to try and bully him. That didn’t end well for the bully. 

“I’ll go with him.” A pretty, dark haired girl in the back of the class offered.

“Okay, Emily.” The teacher nodded. “Just walk him there, and then come right back. Take your bag with you, Mr. Winchester. I think you’re done for the day. And I want you to make sure you do all the work for tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir. Have a lovely day. Can’t wait to see your smiling face again tomorrow.” Dean favored the jerk with his biggest grin as he limped out of the classroom.

As soon as they were in the hall, Emily started to giggle. “Oh my God, you are such an idiot.” 

Dean looked at her and smirked. “Really? Most people seem to think I’m smart or some crap like that.”

Her eyes widened at his language. “No dummy, only an idiot would talk to Mr. Pearce the way you do. Especially when he never liked you to begin with.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah well, if he never liked me, I had nothing to lose to begin with, right?”

She returned his shrug. “I guess. But maybe if you sucked up to him, he’d come around.”

“No way. Not my style.”

Emily looked at him. “What _is_ your style?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you are weird, Dean. You are really smart, but you aren’t like the other smart kids. You’re too young for our class, but you don’t act like a second grader. You dress, and sometimes talk, like a badass, but you aren’t a jerk. And you get hurt a lot too. Like, that scar on your face. Or the car accident you were in last year.” (Oh yeah, the wonderful cover story to explain the extensive bruises he’d come to school with after the whole shifter thing last year. Luckily, some forged papers had backed up that story and held off any questions and the school nurse had never had a reason to see his back.) “You’re just one strange kid.”

“Is that why you wanted to walk me to the nurse’s office? To try and figure out the mystery that is Dean Winchester? Or were you just looking for an excuse to get out of Mr. Boring-Ass’s class for a bit?”

Emily laughed. “Actually a bit of both.”

Dean shrugged. “Works for me.”

“So, what’s your story then?”

“I’m a really weird genius.” Dean responded. “Who apparently is also a bit of an idiot. And I have really crappy luck.”

“Wow. So glad we had this talk.”

“Aren’t you?” They reached the nurse’s office and Dean turned to face her. “Well, thanks for walking me here. Might’ve gotten lost without you and ended up wandering these halls for the rest of my life.”

“You really are an idiot.” Emily giggled again and then leaned down, since she was slightly taller, to place a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I hope your ankle gets better. Stay away from any more dogs. And I hope you don’t get rabies or anything.”

“Uh… thanks?” Dean smiled. “See you tomorrow.” He watched the girl turn and walk back down the hall before entering the office. Well, he guessed that not everyone in his class disliked him. But they all definitely thought he was a bit odd. Being a thirty year old hunter in a class of nine year olds would do that.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

It was just a week after Sammy’s fourth birthday when they got the call from Bobby letting them know that there were signs that the ocrases were done laying low to mate and rebuild their population and were now ready to go back to munching on humans. While in hiding, an ocras will make do with eating insects, rodents, and the occasional runaway household pet, but nothing satisfies its hunger like eating people. Also, one of the creepiest and most disturbing things about the ocrases is their ability to replicate human speech… sort of. The little critters only speak a few words, mostly to request food, and they typically mispronounce the first letter. But they can only start to talk after they’ve consumed at least a portion of a human brain. How exactly this process works, no one was quite sure, but the very idea made Dean feel ill.

The young hunter was up in his room getting dressed as his mom was calling him out of school for the day. It was an ‘all hands on deck’ kind of job and since it was only Tuesday, the hunt couldn’t wait until the weekend. Both Dean and his dad were calling in sick to go out on the job, and they were even taking Bobby with them this time. Missouri was coming over the house to watch Sammy while they were gone.

“You going to school, Dean?”

“Yep, Sammy.”

“But Mommy said she calling you out.”

Damn the kid and his eavesdropping. “She changed her mind ‘cause I’m feeling better.”

“Oh. Who she calling?” Sammy asked. 

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s making sure Missouri is still coming over to watch you today.”

Sammy made a face. “Where Mommy going today?”

Dean shrugged. “I think she’s volunteering at some boring women’s thing. You know… chick stuff.”

“Oh.” Sammy nodded. “Why can’t I go to Unca Bobby’s?”

“He’s gotta work on cars all day.”

“Okay.”

“What’s up, short-stuff? Don’t you like Missouri?”

“She okay. But… Dean, she knows when I take cookies.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, that sucks. But she likes you, so she won’t tell Mom. And if you give her the big, sad eyes, and tell her you want a cookie, she’ll probably just give you one before lunch anyways.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Awesome!”

Dean grinned and ruffled his little brother’s hair. Then he sat down on his bed to pull on his boots. He winced a little as he laced them up. His toes felt a bit squished. He’d gone through a growth spurt practically overnight and now the damned things were a bit too small on him. But they were still better than the sneakers his mom had gotten for him at the beginning of the school year. And he wasn’t even going to mention the fact that his jeans didn’t cover his ankles, or that his t-shirts showed off his stomach if he reached his arms up over his head. Dean’s mom had already warned him that this weekend she was going to be dragging him off to the department stores to get him a whole new wardrobe.

Once he was done, Dean stomped down the stairs, purposefully making more noise than needed, Sammy right behind him. The smaller boy copied his movements.

“Boys! Keep it down!” Their mom yelled. “We don’t stampede in the house.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Dean grinned, he hopped into the dining room chair.

“No you aren’t, boy. You made all that racket on purpose.”

Dean turned to see Missouri standing in the room. “Prove it.”

She smacked him none too gently on the back of his head. “You watch it, Dean Winchester.”

“Mommy says don’t hit.” Sammy informed her.

“And your mommy is right. I’m sorry.” Missouri responded.

Dean smiled at her smugly. “Wow, never heard you say _that_ before.”

“Dean.” His mom interrupted. “We’re almost ready, so if you want to eat…”

The boy nodded. He reached across the table and grabbed a waffle and crammed half of it into his mouth. 

“Hey, smaller bites, son. Don’t choke.” His dad scolded as he walked past to grab a cup of coffee.

“’Kay.” Dean mumbled around the mouthful of food. 

Sammy giggled.

Less than a minute later, Dean’s breakfast was done and he was ready to go. He got up out of the chair and waved to his little brother. “Bye Sammy, see ya later.”

“Bye Dean! Have a good day at school!”

His parents, Cas, and him gathered by the front door with their bag of gear they’d gotten together and then the angel placed his hands on them. They’d transport to Bobby’s house to pick up the older hunter and then proceed to the old farmhouse where the ocrases’ nest was suspected to be. Then they’d finish off the vicious little critters once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ocras are the same creatures that I made up for the short story 'Easter Egg Hunter'. I loved them so much that I brought them back here!


	72. Hungry

Chapter Seventy-Two: Hungry 

The old farmhouse was the very definition of dilapidated. The roof, what was left of it anyway, was caving in and the chimney had long since collapsed. Most of the windows were broken and no one had even bothered to come along and board them up. The walls were rotted, crumbling, buckling outwards as if no longer able to hold up their own weight. The plants around the house had overgrown and taken over, twisting their way in through any open spaces. It looked like a deathtrap. 

“That place is so gonna collapse in on our heads.” Dean echoed John’s thoughts.

He looked down at his son as the boy stood holding a shotgun and staring ahead at the farmhouse. Dean wore a machete strapped to his back and a dangerous expression on his face. John knew that the boy blamed himself for the fact that some of the ocrases had escaped last time, even though they’d determined that Dean had been nowhere near the ones that had slipped past them. They had managed to get past John, although no one blamed the man since he had been preoccupied with the massive wound in his side left behind by an ocras’s massive jaws. 

“Maybe we should just burn it to the ground with the ocrases inside.” John suggested.

Mary shook her head. “No, if the farmhouse has a dirt floor root cellar and they’re down there, there’s a chance that they could survive a fire by burrowing. We need to go in.”

Bobby scanned the area. “Well, the good news is that there ain’t no garages, barns, or other separate buildings to check out. So they’ll all be together.”

Dean nodded. “I think some of us should stay outside to catch any that try to flee. We already know that they will.”

“Good idea.” John approved. “I’ll go in.”

“I’m going with you.” Dean piped up. “That way, if there’s any spots where the floor doesn’t look too stable, I can walk across it. I weigh the least.”

“Alright.” John agreed. “The rest of you stay outside. There’s a lot of spots where these things can try and slip out and we’ll need all three of you to make sure they don’t get away. I don’t want to be doing this again in another few months.”

The two stepped carefully up onto the porch, the old rotted wood creaking horrendously. John pushed the front door open and it fell right off of its hinges and crashed to the ground. The doorknob rolled across the floor and came to a rest about halfway across the ugly kitchen tiles. 

The hunter glanced around the room, looking for any signs of movement and checking to see if the floor seemed safe. Up against the left wall was a sink positioned over some old cabinets that were all missing their doors. Nothing was inside but some shredded pieces of… well, he wasn’t sure what it had been, but it was now a rodent’s nest. But if the ocrases had moved into this old farmhouse, then the rodents were probably long since eaten. Next to the sink was an old rusty stove. On the right wall was a disgustingly yellowed refrigerator and what was left of a kitchen table; half a table top and two legs. Straight ahead there was an open cellar door and wooden staircase leading up.

Noting no movement in the room, John motioned to the cellar door. Dean nodded. There was no reason for them to check upstairs. While an ocras would definitely pursue its prey if they ran upstairs or climbed something higher up, the little creatures typically avoided heights whenever possible and would not choose to breed up high if they had a basement to go to instead. 

John stepped forwards, but the floor creaked and then gave out, the tiles crumbling under him and falling down into the basement below. The hunter jumped back and narrowly avoided ending up taking the quick route down. He bumped into Dean and the boy stumbled. Somehow they both managed to keep their footing.

“That was close.” John commented.

“Let me go first, Dad. I can check to make sure the floor is stable before you walk across it.”

He hated the idea, but it made sense. “Okay. But be careful.” 

Dean nodded, and crept forward. The young hunter held his shotgun at the ready, and kept his gaze down, watching his every step carefully. John watched his son walk carefully around the hole in the kitchen floor. He followed, placing each foot gently and shifting his weight slowly. About halfway across the room, Dean froze as the tile under his foot started to make a particularly loud creaking noise. John knew that if his heavier weight had landed on that spot, the floor would’ve collapsed underneath him. He watched his son slowly back up and take a step to the right. Then the boy proceeded. It took longer than the father/son team would’ve liked, especially with the fact that there was a chance that the ocrases could’ve been tipped off already since they’d certainly not made a quiet entry so far, but they finally made it to the cellar door. 

John looked over Dean’s head and down the stairs. They were cement, so there would be no chance of them giving out like the rotted wooden ones leading upstairs. But they wouldn’t be very silent to walk down. There was light downstairs, which must be coming through some windows high up on the walls down there. They’d seen some tiny rectangular windows near the ground from the outside, but hadn’t dared to look through them, in case the ocrases caught a glimpse of them. John was about to insist that he take the lead to go down, but his son had already started descending the stairs and unless the older hunter wanted to push past the boy, he’d have to take up position in the back. 

At the bottom of the stairs, Dean hesitated, sweeping the room with his weapon. John raised his own shotgun, keeping it just above the boy’s head and scanning the room. At first it was hard to see anything, since the room was so terribly cluttered. There was a large freezer chest, old broken shelves, a rusted metal workbench, rotted and moldy wooden crates filled with god knows what, and all sorts of broken furniture scattered all over the large open area. And the whole place smelled awful.

Then John caught a flash of movement off to his left. He tracked it with his shotgun and saw that Dean didn’t, obviously realizing that his dad had it covered. The hunter squinted and saw the creature step out into the dim light. It was slightly less than three feet tall and seemed smaller as it crouched there with its knees bent to the point where its short legs were almost folded in half. Its long arms led to large hands that hung to lie on the dirt floor. Its head was about two sizes too big for its scrawny body and was slightly misshapen. Two red eyes sat above a tiny mouth and there was no visible nose. Cat-like ears stuck out at odd angles from the sides of its head and twitched constantly. Though it was naked, there was no indication of gender. 

“Fun-gree.” It whined. “Foooood”

“Feeeeeaaaaat.” A cry from the dark joined in.

“Fuuunnn-greeeee.” Yet another moaned.

“Feat! Feat!” A fourth called.

Hungry. Food. Eat. Yep, they were definitely sounding the dinner bells. John saw Dean tense. He remember the boy telling him before their previous ocras hunt that he’d encountered one of these things when he’d been just a kid the first time around, in the original timeline. It had been around Easter when he’d been seven years old, but this time around Bobby had called a different hunter in on the case because the Winchesters didn’t do hunts during the holidays. So, John hadn’t even heard of an ocras until the fall when Bobby had called and asked for help. It seemed that the hunter he’d called back around Easter had let some get away and they’d done some breeding and had a whole new nest. But that hunter was no longer around (he’d made a mistake on a skinwalker hunt and it was the last mistake he’d ever make) so Bobby had contacted John for help. And that was how they got to where they were now. But Dean still seemed to be a bit freaked by the creatures from his encounter with them all those years ago. John wished he’d open up and give some details about that time, but it was impossible to get the boy to talk sometimes. 

“Dude, let’s blow the crap outta these things.” Dean suggested.

John saw no reason not to. He aimed at the spot high on the ocras’s chest and pulled the trigger. The thin creature practically exploded; its arms flew off, its head detached, and its chest blew apart. The bottom part of it collapsed almost intact, but with the top part of the monster gone, it had no life left in it.

One came running straight at them and Dean shot it in the same spot with similar results. If shot too low, the ocras wouldn’t die and would continue on its pursuit of food. Even a shot right in its head wouldn’t kill the creature, unless the head was completely blown to pieces. It was rumored that you could cut their skulls open and remove their brains and they’d still keep on coming. John didn’t really want to test that theory. 

Seconds later, several more ocrases started to scramble out of their hiding spots. They were everywhere. In the crates, the freezer, the shelves, the furniture. They scampered across the room; some headed for the windows, some for the hunters. Dean took aim and fired, stumbling only slightly with the force of the kickback, but bracing himself well. John fired too, holding position right behind his son. Two more ocrases exploded.

“Fuuuun!” Run? Was it yelling to run? “Fun-gree!” No, just announcing its hunger again.

John reloaded his weapon and took aim. Dean had already reloaded and fired. They kept it up as long as they could; shooting, reloading, and shooting some more, but there were so many of those damned things. Their position was going to get overrun soon. 

“Dean…”

“I see ‘em.”

The last five of the ocrases were closing in too quickly. There was no way they’d be able to shoot them all. Dean took his last shot and then dropped the gun and pulled the machete off his back. John took his last two shots. The first was dead on, but the second missed its mark. Maybe it was because he was getting nervous, but the shot was too low and the ocras only had its bottom half blown off. The creature pulled its bloody, gore-streaked body closer to the hunters. Dean hopped off the steps and faced down the two and a half approaching creatures. John was just getting his own machete out when he saw his son hacking one of the ocrases to pieces. But then the half-ocras reached out and snatched Dean by the ankle while he was still bent over the creature he’d killed, and pulled the boy to the dirt floor. The small hunter hit the ground with a cry of pain and tried to pull away but the thing was holding him tight. Then its small mouth stretched out impossibly large and John caught a glimpse of its razor sharp teeth as the creature pulled itself forwards to take a bite out of Dean. 

John rushed forward, holding his machete up, ready to chop the ocras to pieces before it could eat his son but then something ran at him from his right. The hunter turned just in time to see a small creature leap at him. He’d forgotten about the fifth ocras. And now the little bastard was going to try and chew on him. 

John threw his hands up to protect his face as the ocras crashed into him and knocked him to the ground. The little monster bit into his arm and John screamed out in shock and pain. Why the hell did these things have to like the taste of him? He knew better than to try and pull away this time, though. The last thing he needed was to have the sharp teeth tear a gaping hole in his arm. Instead, he used his right arm to sneak the machete around behind the creature and brought the blade down into its neck. He didn’t have enough force behind the blow to take the head off, but it did startle the ocras into opening its mouth. John pulled his now bleeding arm away and rolled to pin the monster under him. Then he sat up, dragged his weapon out from under the ocras, and proceeded to chop the creature into tiny pieces. 

Once that was done, the hunter took a deep breath and looked over to his son. He froze at the sight that greeted him. Dean was doing his best to fend off the half-ocras but wasn’t having much luck. And it took John only a second to realize why. When Dean had been grabbed by the ankle and had fallen, he’d somehow ended up landing on the blade of his machete and was bleeding pretty heavily from a gash just above his left knee. Between the pain and blood loss, John’s son was losing the struggle against the monster that was trying to eat him.


	73. Finish the Job

Chapter Seventy-Three: Finish the Job

Dean had been keeping an eye on the other ocras as he’d been chopping the hell out of his target, but had forgotten about the half of one that his dad had shot. Damned rookie mistake. He’d known that the shot hadn’t killed it, but had thought that it would’ve slowed it down enough that it wouldn’t be as much of a threat and so he had dismissed it, and now it was going to cost him his life. Because the bastard had grabbed his ankle and dragged him to the dirt floor and he’d somehow landed on his damned machete on the way down. Now his weapon was just out of his reach, his leg was bleeding out all over the dirt, and the creepy-ass half-ocras was trying to eat his face off. Just another day in freakin’ paradise. 

The young hunter groaned as he pushed the creature’s misshapen head back away from him as far as he could. The ocras had its mouth stretched open wide and was trying its hardest to get close enough to take a bite out of the boy, but Dean was using what strength he had left to keep it away. It was awkward trying to hold on to the thing and not get his hand inside its mouth by accident. If the monster’s sharp teeth pierced his hand, it would ruin bones, muscles, and tendons and would probably screw up his fine motor skills for the rest of his life. Not a great thing for a hunter who relied on such things to stay alive and protect others. But Dean knew he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer. Then again, he just needed to hold out until his dad finished with the last whole ocras and he’d have help.

Suddenly the ocras’s long pink tongue darted out and started to lap up the blood from Dean’s leg. Okay, that was just gross. Then Dean gasped as he felt the tongue enter the wound, pushing past the skin and muscle. The ocras made a humming noise of pure pleasure as the boy gagged in disgust. Then pain flared as the creature’s tongue dug even deeper into his wound. He felt the tongue moving around inside of his leg, rubbing roughly against his muscles and ligaments. Dean pushed hard against the small monster in a panic, his entire left knee was awash in waves of agony. He wanted the creature off of him and its nasty tongue out of his body NOW. 

Dean shifted his right hand up and grasped at the ocras’s eye, gouging it from its socket. The creature shrieked and its tongue retracted from the boy’s open wound. Dean made a mental note to clean the gash out real well. Like, with ten bottles of peroxide. At least. 

But now that the ocras was no longer tasting its prey, the little monster redoubled its efforts to try and take a huge bite out of Dean. And the young hunter was starting to tire from pain, blood loss, and just sheer exhaustion. His elbows started to buckle and the creature’s face came closer and closer. Dean smelled its hot, rancid breath and let out a small groan of pain and despair. 

_Dad, please hurry!_

As if he had heard his son’s thoughts, Dean’s dad suddenly appeared over him. Dean watched as his father reached down and pulled the half-ocras off of him and threw it to the floor a couple feet away with such force that the monster was momentarily stunned. Dean saw the thing’s entrails hanging out, blood leaking out all over the place. And then his dad was standing over the creature hacking it into pieces until there was nothing left of it. 

Dean closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing past the pain and residual terror. It was over. It was all over. 

“Dean? Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah… my leg… it just… it hurts.” Dean answered without opening his eyes. 

“Yeah, buddy. You got it cut on your machete. It looks pretty deep, but it’ll be alright. We’ll get you patched up. Just lie still, okay?” His father’s voice was gentle. 

Dean nodded. “’Kay, Dad.”

He heard the sound of cloth tearing and then felt a stab of fresh pain as his leg was moved. Dean gritted his teeth to keep from screaming as his dad wrapped his wound up tightly. Only when he was sure that it was completely over did the boy open his eyes. He saw his father hovering over him with a concerned look in his eyes. Dean forced a weak smile to his face. It obviously didn’t look all that reassuring though, because his dad pulled him into a tight hug.

“Are you okay, son?” His dad asked again.

“I will be. Did we get them all?”

“Most. I saw a few get out the windows, but nothing that the others can’t handle.”

Dean nodded into his dad’s shoulder. “You okay, Dad?”

“Yeah. One of those creatures bit my arm, but it’s not bad. Not even bleeding anymore.”

“Let me see.” Dean requested.

“I said it’s not bad.” His dad insisted.

Before Dean could protest, his father stood up, easily lifting both his son and the weapons. The injured boy didn’t even bother arguing, knowing that he would have a hell of a time making his way back up the stairs by himself. And the pain in his leg was enough to convince him that he didn’t even want to try. Tough guy image be damned. He wrapped his arms around his dad while the older hunter gathered up the rest of their stuff and made sure that the rest of the room was truly empty. Then the father and son left the cellar.

Once upstairs, his dad had to put him down since their combined weight would be too much for the old floor to handle. Dean limped his way clumsily across the kitchen, trying hard not to make little noises of pain with every step. They managed to avoid any weak spots, which was good because completing the hunt only to die by falling through rotted floorboards and breaking his neck on the cellar floor below would just suck. 

As he approached the front doorway, he prayed that his mom, Cas, and Bobby had gotten rid of the rest of the ocrases because he sure as hell didn’t want to go through this ever again.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel had pulled his angel sword out just moments after Dean and his father had disappeared into the old farmhouse. Mary and Bobby were on either side of him, both holding shotguns and wearing machetes strapped to themselves. They had offered the angel a shotgun but he had declined. He had gotten much better with firearms over the last few years, but still felt much more comfortable with his blade. 

It had been over a full minute since Dean and John had gone inside and there was no indication of any confrontation yet. Castiel wished that he had been the one that had gone in with his young friend. He knew that Dean could take care of himself, and that John would certainly watch out for his own son, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. The ocrases were particularly vicious and facing them in an enclosed area like the cellar wasn’t going to be pleasant. 

Then Castiel heard a gunshot followed closely by another. Then a third. And a fourth. Suddenly, what little glass was left in the windows near the ground was shattered as five ocrases scrambled out. Bobby and Mary waited until the creatures were standing until they took their shots, since they had to shoot in one particular spot to kill the little monsters. Once the moment was right, they both fired at almost the same exact time.

Castiel made certain to stay out of their line of fire as he swung his angel blade at the nearest ocras. His first swipe took off the creature’s head, the second and third removed the arms, and a fourth cleaved the torso in half. He’d been instructed to be very thorough. The pieces of the little monster hit the ground with a spray of blood and gore, but Castiel was already moving away.

The angel turned and saw two more ocrases climbing out of the windows. That meant seven had made it out and three had been killed so far. Castiel kept his eyes on the remaining four. They couldn’t afford to let any get away. This was going to end today.

Two more were cut down by shotgun fire as the angel stepped to his left and quickly chopped up an ocras that was trying to run past him. The little creature had been fast and had almost made it. The thing had been smart enough to stay low but was making the low frantic noise that the ocrases made when they didn’t yet know how to talk. 

The last one turned and tried to actually get back into the farmhouse. But Bobby had reloaded his shotgun and took care of it before it made it back to the broken window. The three of them waited with their weapons held at the ready and their eyes trained on the farmhouse, waiting for more to come out. But nothing happened.

“Well, that’s a bit anticlimactic.” Bobby grumbled.

“Most of them must’ve been hungry and made a run for John and Dean instead of the windows.” Mary explained. “The last batch we faced had just eaten. They were more interested in escape than food.”

“Perhaps we should make our way inside and provide assistance.” Castiel suggested.

Mary shook her head. “No. If even one ocras gets away it can cause a lot of death to the surrounding towns. And if two or more get away, they’ll start a whole new nest. We can’t risk abandoning our positions.”

Castiel nodded reluctantly. Still he was moments away from disobeying and teleporting down into the cellar to check on his friend when he saw the small hunter limp carefully out of the front doorway. The angel took in the bloody makeshift bandage wrapped around the boy’s left leg right above his knee, the pale skin, the slight shakiness, and the pain-filled expression on Dean’s face and he wished that he’d insisted on going in as backup. 

When they’d reached the bottom of the rotted front stairs, John picked Dean up and carried him over to the rest of the group. 

“What happened?” Mary asked, before Castiel could inquire about the same thing.

“A slight mishap.” John responded. “One of the ocrases grabbed him and he got cut by his machete when he fell. We’ll need to give him a few stitches when we get home but he’ll be fine.”

“And someone’s gotta check Dad’s arm.” Dean piped up. “He got bit.”

“I told you I’m fine.” John insisted.

“Stubborn ass Winchesters.” Bobby muttered. “So I take it ya got ‘em all inside?”

“Yeah.” John replied. “You took care of all the escapees?”

“Yes.” Castiel responded. 

“Awesome.” Dean commented. “Now, not to sound like I’m complaining or anything, but can we get the hell outta here? I wanna stop bleeding out all over the ground.”


	74. Start of a New Routine

Chapter Seventy-Four: Start of a New Routine 

Mrs. Jennifer Bradley sat at her desk and looked over her class list one last time. There were less students than usual this year, due to the city council’s redistricting, which worked out better for her since it would allow her to give the children each more of her time. With a full compliment of twenty students in previous years and only one teaching assistant to help her, she felt like some of her students never got the help they had deserved. But this year, there were only fourteen children. And one of them she recognized. Well, she knew the last name at least. It was one she’d never forget.

Winchester. But this time it Sam, not Dean Winchester in her class. It had been four years since she’d taught that exceptionally bright, yet very odd little boy. Jennifer had heard about him from other teachers. She knew that he’d skipped both the first and third grades and that although he was only nine years old now he was already in sixth grade. Which meant that he was leaving the elementary school and going next door to Lawrence Middle School. She hoped that the older kids left him alone.

The teacher was just about to go back to her last minute preparations when she heard footsteps enter her classroom. Jennifer looked up and smiled.

“Wow, looks like the power suits are a thing of the past, huh, Mrs. Bradley?” Dean Winchester asked with a smirk. He was taller than he’d been when he was in her class, still a bit thin but now with what looked to be some lean muscles. The boy had the same short spiky hair and large, green eyes. He still had a sprinkling of freckles and the light scar on his face. Dean wore jeans and a black t-shirt with a gray Batman symbol on the chest, his outfit completed by a pair of black boots. 

She ignored his comment on her choice in wardrobe, having decided two years ago to switch from the uncomfortable but professional-looking suits to lightweight skirts and matching tops, and stood to greet him. “Dean, aren’t you a little old to be in my kindergarten class?”

“I thought maybe you missed me after all these years.”

Jennifer smiled. “Actually, I have. But I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t believe a word the other teachers have said. I’m not that bad. Really.”

The kindergarten teacher caught a glimpse of another, smaller boy behind Dean, but couldn’t get a good look at him. “Who are you hiding behind your back, Dean?”

The boy’s face shifted from the joking smirk to a genuine smile. “Mrs. Bradley, I want you to meet Sammy.” The older brother turned and knelt down. “It’s okay, Sammy. She’s nice. I promise.”

When Dean stood back up and faced her once again, the smaller boy stepped around to stand next to him but reached up to clutch his brother’s hand tightly. Sammy couldn’t have looked more different from his big brother. His hair was chestnut brown, not dirty blonde and was worn much longer. The little boy’s eyes were hazel and they were brighter than Dean’s, less guarded. His smile was shy as opposed to his brother’s cocky one. Sammy was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a tan t-shirt with a green cartoonish dinosaur on it. Normal kid stuff, unlike what Jennifer was used to seeing on Dean. 

“Hi, Sammy.” She greeted.

“Hi.” He responded.

“Welcome to the class. But you know that the other kids are lining up outside.” She looked at Dean while saying that.

The older boy shrugged. “I know the whole first day routine. But I’ll be dropping him off here everyday before I hop the fence to get to my classes, so I figured I’d start it off today and say ‘hi’ at the same time. Don’t worry. I let Miss Irving know he was here.”

“Actually, she’s Mrs. Kerry now.”

He seemed taken aback. “Dude, someone married Miss Too-Much-Caffeine?”

Jennifer had to work hard not to laugh. Best not to encourage his attitude. “Dean, that’s not polite. We don’t talk that way about people.”

“Dean does.” Sammy commented.

An earlier comment finally caught her attention. “And I hope you aren’t planning to _actually_ hop the fence to get to the middle school. Please go around and use the front gate.”

“Of course.” Dean nodded. Jennifer knew that he’d be hopping the fence.

“And you do know that Sammy will have to be picked up by an adult, right?”

“Yeah, Cas and me are gonna pick him up.”

“Cas and _I_.” She corrected. “That’s your uncle, right?”

Sammy nodded. “Yeah. He always goes to school with Dean and can get us home real fast.”

Dean nudged Sammy. “Cas has a lot of free time so he doesn’t mind taking me to school. And he knows a real good shortcut to get us home quickly.”

The teacher looked between the two of them and decided that there was a story there but that she wasn’t going to get any more of it at that moment. “Well, it was good to see you again, Dean. And I’m glad to know that you’ve been doing so well in your studies. You’re a bright kid; don’t let it go to waste.”

“I’m nothing. Wait ‘till you see Sammy here in action. This little guy’s awesome.” Dean ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. Then he looked down at his brother. “I gotta go, kiddo. Be good, okay?”

“Please stay, Dean.”

“I can’t. But I’ll be back at the end of the day to pick you up. Love ya, Sammy.”

“Love you too, Dean. Bye.”

Dean waved to his little brother as he walked out of the classroom. 

Jennifer watched him go and then turned to the little boy standing awkwardly by the door. 

“Come sit down, Sammy. You get your choice of seats.” 

The child smiled up at her shyly and nodded. “I’m looking forward to school, Mrs. Bradley. Dean says you’re really smart. And that your class is nice.”

She internally laughed at the idea of those praises coming from Dean Winchester’s mouth. But Sammy seemed like a nice, polite, and smart little boy. If perhaps a little shy. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. And maybe you can make friends with some of the other children.” 

“That would be nice.” Sammy nodded.

She was a bit surprised to hear him say that. In the entire time Dean was in her class, he never showed the slightest interest in even talking with any of the other students, let alone befriending them. 

“Well, I’m sure they’ll like you a lot.”

“Dean says everyone likes me. He’s the best big brother ever!”

The teacher smiled. “He sounds like it. And you seem like a wonderful little brother.”

He ducked his head and blushed. “Thank you, Mrs. Bradley.”

As the bell rang and her teaching assistant led the rest of the class into the room, Jennifer found herself looking forward to another year with a Winchester in her class.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

The distance between the elementary school and the middle school was eaten up quickly as Dean ran as fast as his legs could take him. Sure Cas could’ve teleported him there much faster, but he liked the idea of running there on his own. It was great exercise and kinda exhilarating. So he pushed himself even faster and when the boy reached the fence, he jumped and grabbed onto the metal with both his hands and feet. Dean scaled the eight foot fence with no trouble at all and flipped over the top, landing on the ground in a crouch. He sprung to his feet and continued onwards to the large brick building.

Dean slowed only when he reached the walkway leading to the front steps. Most students were still milling about out front, talking with their friends. The first bell wouldn’t ring for about ten minutes. Dean had dropped Sammy off a bit early to make sure he’d get to class on time. The boy shifted his backpack as he climbed the steps and felt all eyes on him. Of course the other kids knew who he was. He’d been in some of their classes the past couple of years and they loved to gossip to their friends. A nine year old ‘weird genius’ starting at the middle school was definitely going to be the talk of the entire school. He wondered how much more they’d be saying if they had any clue as to who or what he really was.

The boy’s bathroom was empty when Dean walked in. He dropped his pack on the ground by the sink and stood there for a moment, staring at his reflection. Sometimes he found it odd to look at himself in the mirror. It wasn’t the age thing anymore. He’d gotten use to not seeing a thirty year old staring back at him years ago. But the weird thing was that he didn’t look exactly like he had when he was nine years old the first time around. He vaguely remembered what he looked like back then, and even had the photos that Cas had brought from the original timeline (and one was from when he was just shy of ten years old) and the person in the mirror was not the same. His build was different for one thing. Dean figured that that was due to a radical change in diet. His hair was not only styled differently, but it was also lighter in color than it had been, probably from more exposure to the sun and also extra nutrients from his better eating habits. Of course there was also the light scar running down the right side of his face and several others hidden by his clothes that he didn’t have the first time around. Altogether, he still looked like Dean Winchester, just… different.

“Are you going to class?”

Dean rolled his eyes at his invisible friend. “You know, if anyone else was here, you would’ve just scared the crap outta them, Cas. And yeah, I’m going.” The boy picked up his bag and left the restroom.

As he trudged down the hall, Dean pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He checked his classroom number for the millionth time. He would be in class 6-A which was in homeroom #106. From what he understood about the way this middle school worked, the class you were in had a different teacher for each subject, but the students remained the same, traveling from classroom to classroom together. Dean hoped he wasn’t stuck with a room full of complete douche-bags. 

He figured that he’d wasted enough time that he wouldn’t be the first kid to enter the classroom. No need to get a rep as a geek or a teacher’s pet. Dean strolled through the door and looked around. There was a nerdy-looking skinny boy sitting in the front wearing a pair of glasses two sizes too big for his face. A blonde girl smaller than himself despite her older age, had her hair pulled back in pig tails and was chewing gum while she was drawing on the desk in the back of the class. A red-haired boy had his head down on a desk and appeared to be fast asleep. Two girls dressed in short skirts and brightly colored sweaters sat next to each other and whispered back and forth, occasionally giggling madly. Dean sighed and took a seat near the back of the room, right next to the windows. He was gazing outside, pretending that he didn’t know that the two gossiping chicks had changed topics to talk about him when he heard a backpack get tossed down onto the desk right next to his.

“Hey Dean, you gonna try and behave yourself this year?”

Dean turned his head to see Emily standing next to his desk. He hadn’t seen her since fourth grade since she’d ended up in a different class the following year. He grinned up at her. “Depends on how well the teachers behave themselves.”

“So, you’re still a dummy, then.” She smiled as she dropped into the seat across from him.

“Guilty as charged.”

Emily pushed her long, dark hair behind her ears. “I figured I’d sit next to you in all our classes so I could copy your work. Nothing like befriending a genius to ace tests, right?”

“I’ll make sure to mark all my answers wrong.” Dean smirked.

“You know, I bet you would.”

“Just for you.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“Thanks.” Dean replied.

Any further comments were cut off as the first bell rang and the rest of the students began to file into the classroom and claim their seats. The teacher stood up at the front of the room and wrote her name on the blackboard. Mrs. Franklin. Then after the final bell rang she took attendance. When a student’s name was called, they were supposed to say ‘here’ and stand up so that the woman could see them. She went down her list, and when she came to ‘Winchester, Dean’, he stood up and said “Here.”

“Freak!” Someone in the back called out.

There was quite a bit of laughter from the other students and Dean ignored it as he retook his seat. 

“That’s enough of that.” Mrs. Franklin scolded. “Mr. Winchester is a very bright child and deserves our respect, not ridicule.”

Dean rolled his eyes and wished that the teacher would stop ‘helping’ as some of his classmate snickered even more.

“Now, I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the year as well as your math teacher. And that will be your first subject of the day. So, I’ll start off by passing out your text books and then we’ll go over what you’ll be learning this year.”

After math came science, then history. Then they had gym class, followed by language arts. When the bell rang they were all dismissed for lunch. Dean followed the mob of kids to the cafeteria. He wished that he could somehow duck out and go check on Sammy but he knew that he’d get in trouble and his parents would kill him for sure. Besides, his brother was probably enjoying himself and wouldn’t want his big brother showing up and cramping his style. 

“Is this seat taken?” Emily sat down next to him without waiting for his response.

“You know that I have no answers to copy at lunchtime, right?” Dean reminded her.

“No, but maybe you have a better lunch than me.” She pointed out as she unpacked her paper bag.

Dean did the same. He had a roastbeef sandwich, potato chips, carrot sticks, Oreo cookies, and a yoo-hoo. Emily had a turkey sandwich, Doritos, chocolate chip cookies, and an apple juice. They quickly decided to swap the chips with each other and share the cookies. Dean also let her take some of his carrots but refused to switch drinks. 

“So, you have nothing better to do than waste your lunchtime sitting with the freak of the school?” Dean asked around a mouthful of bread and meat.

“Ewww!” She punched his arm. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, you dummy. But to answer your question; nope, nothing better to do. You’re the most interesting thing in this whole entire place.”

Dean took another bite before speaking again. “Awesome.” He got punched again. “But that proves just how crappy this place really is.”

Emily laughed, choking on her juice. “Yeah. I can’t wait for high school. Actually, I can’t wait for college. Get away from all these morons.”

“Meet all new morons.”

“It won’t be like that. I mean, we’re all just kids. College people are grown ups and they won’t be so… you know… petty and mean.” she sighed. “Like how people treat you. I bet if you were all grown up people would be nice to you.”

Dean laughed. “Sure, if I were an adult, my life would be perfect.”

“Wow, could you be more sarcastic?”

“Probably.”

Emily shook her head. “Yeah, I bet you could. It’s just… I hope that when we all grow up things are better than they are right now. That life doesn’t depend on popularity or if you wear the right clothes or stuff like that.”

Dean shrugged. “It always will to some people. But just be whoever the hell you wanna be and let the world do whatever it wants.”

“Who gave you that advice?”

“Life.” Dean shrugged.

“Well then, you’ve lived a lot for a nine year old.”

“It’s not quantity, it’s quality.”

“Okay Yoda.” Emily teased.

“That totally makes you Luke Skywalker.” Dean informed her.

“No way. First off, I’m a girl. Second, I don’t whine like he did.”

“Whatever you say, Skywalker.”

“Shut up.”

They were still laughing as the bell rang and they gathered up their trash to throw out. Dean walked with the others to their literature class and took a seat by the windows (as he had been doing all day). The final class of the day was art and it couldn’t be over with soon enough. When he walked out of the classroom, he felt Cas’s familiar presence vanish and he knew that the angel was following through with their plan. He couldn’t just suddenly appear at Dean’s side without causing a stir, so he would teleport himself outside the school grounds and then walk in to meet up with Dean. Then the two of them would go pick up Sammy. It left Dean unprotected for a few minutes, but it was unavoidable.

The boy slung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried out the front door. As he went down the front steps, someone bumped into him rather roughly. Dean stumbled and if not for his training and skills, he would’ve fallen down the rest of the cement stairs. The boy turned to see an older kid standing there with a grin on his face.

“Hey, you should watch where you’re going baby-freak.”

What was the boy’s name? Frank? Fred? Something like that. “Sorry, didn’t see the ‘Jerk crossing’ sign.” Dean shot back.

“Are you calling me a jerk?”

Dean shrugged. “Take it as you like. Now, I gotta go. Have a nice day.”

The older boy grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him up in the air. “I’m going to beat you until you cry for your mommy, baby-freak.”

Dean placed his feet on the bully’s thighs and his hands on the kid’s arms. With a quick push and a twist, he was free and crouched on the ground. He contemplated sweeping the kid’s feet out from under him, but a tumble down the steps could do some serious damage and the moron didn’t do anything to deserve that yet. So instead, Dean darted out of his reach and gave him his most dangerous glare. 

“The day _you_ can make _me_ cry is the day Hell freezes over. But try that again and you’re gonna get yourself seriously embarrassed at best, dumbass. ‘Cause I may be a freak, but I’m no baby. Got it?” With that, Dean continued down the steps, leaving Frank or Fred or whatever the hell his name was staring at him in confusion.

Once he passed through the gate, he saw Cas standing waiting for him. “Is the school year over yet?” Dean asked.

“I believe that it lasts for more than just one day.”

“Damn.”

In no time at all, they were standing in the yard outside the elementary school with the other children’s parents as the little kids exited the building. Of course, the later grade students were leaving as well, and some of them were even older than Dean, but he wasn’t focused on them. He only had eyes for one small kid. And there he was.

“Sammy!” Dean called.

“Dean!” The little boy came running towards him. “Dean! You were right! I had so much fun! And we’re gonna learn a lot! But the teacher’s gonna do the ABCs and you already taught me that, but she said that we’re gonna learn other stuff too, and I can’t wait, and there’s some really nice kids, and I made a lot of friends, and it was really neat!”

“Whoa! Slow down and take a breath there, Sammy.”

“Oh. Sorry, Dean.”

“No problem, short stuff. But let’s get home and you can tell me all about your awesome day, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great. Let’s go then.”

They all walked out of the schoolyard together and down the road. Once they’d turned the corner and were out of sight of anyone that could be watching, Cas placed his hands on both boys and transported them home. 

Dean and Sammy both took a seat at the dining room table as their mom served them a snack. 

“How was your day at school?” She asked.

Dean listened to Sammy ramble on as he ate his pie and started on his homework. Homework on the very first day of school. Yeah, this year was gonna suck. When his little brother was done, his mom placed her hand on his shoulder. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“How was your day?”

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?”

She gently smacked the back of his head. “Seriously?”

“Not too bad. Nothing I can’t I handle.” And it was true. After all, he’d survived his original timeline childhood, fought demons and angels, been to Hell, averted the apocalypse, faced down the devil, spent time in purgatory, and been subjected to many different types of torture in his lifetime. Dean figured that he could make it through anything the universe decided to throw at him.


	75. Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning; we're starting a pretty dark storyline now...  
> You have been warned.

Chapter Seventy-Five: Taken 

“Bye Dean!” Sammy waved goodbye to his big brother like he had done everyday for the last month and walked over to sit in his chair at the table. He placed his dinosaur backpack on the floor next to him and folded his hands in front of himself. He was excited for the day to start. Sammy loved school. He knew some of the stuff that they were learning already, thanks to Dean, but the new stuff was interesting and he was hoping that as the year went on they’d learn even more new stuff. Besides after he’d taken some tests, Mrs. Bradley said that since Dean had taught him to read, he could practice that during class and do big kid worksheets while the other kids learned their ABCs. And the projects that the whole class made from construction paper and paper plates and stuff like that were always so much fun. And it was now October and soon they’d be making things for Halloween. That would be neat.

“Hi, Sammy!”

Sammy turned and smiled at his best friend, Tommy. “Hi, Tommy.”

“I got a new bike for my birthday yesterday!” Tommy announced.

“That’s great.” Sammy told him. “Dean is teaching me to ride a bike. I can ride, but I still need the train wheels.”

“Wow! You can ride?”

“Yeah.” Sammy said proudly.

“I want to learn too.” Marie cut in as she sat on Sammy’s other side. “But my daddy said no bikes until I’m older.”

“Girls can’t ride bikes.” Eddy said as he sat across from them.

“I will.” Marie insisted.

“Nah uh.” 

“Yeah.”

“Stop it you two.” Sammy hissed. “You’re gonna get put in the corners again.” They were always getting in trouble for arguing. Dean would call them dumbasses. But Sammy would never say that out loud.

“Good morning, class!” Mrs. Bradley greeted.

“Good morning, Mrs. Bradley.” They responded. 

Shortly afterwards, the loudspeaker came on and they all stood for the pledge of allegiance. Sammy proudly recited all the words correctly, since Dean had taught it to him before he’d started school. Then he sat down to listened to the announcements. When it was over, Mrs. Bradley started to go over what she’d be teaching for the day when there was a knock at the door. Sammy turned his head to see who was there. 

His teacher opened the door and the woman that always sat at the desk in front of the principal’s office was standing there. She smiled but she didn’t look very happy. The two women started talking in hushed tones. Sammy leaned closer and struggled to hear what was being said. Dean always told him that he was too curious for his own good. Then he heard his own name being mentioned, along with words like ‘accident’, ‘brother’, and ‘hospital’. Sammy was up and out of his seat before he realized what he was doing.

“What going on?” He asked.

Mrs. Bradley turned around and looked down at him. “Please go get your backpack, Sammy. You’re going to be going home. Someone is here to pick you up.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

The other woman answered. “There was an accident, sweetie. Your brother was hurt and is in the hospital. Your parents are with him now.”

Sammy felt tears rush to his eyes. Dean was hurt. But Dean never went to the hospital. Never. Daddy always fixed Dean. So if Dean was hurt bad enough to need doctors, it must be very bad. Maybe Dean was dying. 

“Where’s Cas? Is he taking me to Dean?”

“Your uncle? No, he must be at the hospital with your brother too. But a friend of your parents is here to pick you up. I’ll take you to him.”

Sammy nodded. It must be Uncle Bobby. Uncle Bobby would take him to Dean. But why was Dean hurt? Dean should be in school. Not in a hospital. 

As the boy grabbed his pack he heard his teacher asking the other lady who the family friend was. The lady said that the man had a signed note explaining the situation and giving him permission to retrieve Sammy from school. Sammy ran to the door. He had to go see Dean. Now. 

Sammy was crying as he followed the woman down the hallway. When he reached the front of the building he looked over to the office to see if Uncle Bobby was sitting in the chairs waiting for him. But there was no sign of him. Instead, there was a dark-skinned man standing there smiling at him. Sammy stopped walking.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I’m Gordon, a friend of your dad’s. I’m here to pick you up.”

Sammy didn’t know what to do. He wanted to go see Dean. If Dean was hurt and maybe dying, Sammy had to be there with him. But he didn’t know this man and for some reason he didn’t like him. Sammy felt like crying even more.

“I want to go with Cas.”

“Well, Cas ain’t here right now, so come on, Sammy.”

“No, thank you. Cas is very quick and I’m sure if you called the hospital, he could come and pick me up and bring me to Dean.”

Gordon walked over and knelt down in front of Sammy, placing his hands gently on the boy’s upper arms. He looked up at the woman behind the desk. “I need a moment to calm the boy. John told me how close his kids are. If he’s still this broken up after I talk with him, maybe I can see if I can get Cas down here.”

The woman smiled, nodded, and stepped back to let them talk.

Sammy gave a relieved smile. “Thank you mister, I just would rather have…”

He was cut off when Gordon tightened his grip on Sammy’s arms. “Shut up, you little brat.” He growled out in a low whisper that Sammy knew the lady at the other side of the room wouldn’t be able to hear. “Now listen to me. You are going to leave the school with me and you are not going to put up any kind of a fuss. If you don’t do this, I will make sure that your big brother is going to die in the most terrible, painful way possible. Do you understand me?”

Sammy felt the tears begin to pour down his face even harder but he forced himself to nod. 

“Okay.” The dark-skinned man said loudly, in a cheerful tone. “I think Sammy is ready to go.”

The woman walked back over as Gordon stood up. “Are you okay to go now, Sammy?”

“Yes, ma’am. I just want to go see Dean.” Sammy said. He didn’t want to leave with the scary man, but he didn’t want the man to go to the hospital and hurt Dean.

Sammy followed the man out of the school and over to an old car parked out front. It was as big as his daddy’s car but not in as good shape. Gordon opened the front passenger door and motioned for Sammy to get in. The boy climbed in and put on the seatbelt. Once Gordon was in, the man started the car and drove off, speeding down the road much faster than he should’ve been. 

After a few minutes, Sammy broke the silence. “What… what happened to Dean?”

“Nothing. Yet.”

“But… but you said he was in the hospital.”

“I lied to get you out of the school. But make no mistake, if you hadn’t come with me, he’d be in a condition that no hospital could fix.”

Sammy felt fresh tears run down his face. “Why do you want me?”

“Short answer; I don’t. I want your brother. But he’s not going to do what I want unless I have you.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you want Dean?”

“First off, your brother and I got unfinished business. I owe the little brat for throwing a knife into my shoulder. But before that, he’s gonna help me out with a little vampire problem.”

Sammy looked over at the man. “Dean only throws knives in his room. At the target. Mommy says never to throw stuff at people. And uh… what’s your vampire problem? Is it something for Halloween?”

Gordon let out a snort. “Oh this is priceless. When your brother was your age he was decapitating vamps and you don’t even know the truth of what’s out there. What the hell is wrong with your parents?”

Sammy had no clue what ‘decapitating’ was, but he didn’t like the way that this man talked about his family. “Nothing is wrong with my family, douche-bag!” He yelled, using one of Dean’s favorite insults. “They aren’t the ones that are kidnapping people.” Then he realized that he’d yelled at the scary man and immediately shrank back into the seat, terrified that Gordon would harm him. 

“Don’t worry, brat. I’m not going to hurt you. Not if your asshole of a brother cooperates. And you might actually learn something today.”

“Y… you can’t talk about Dean like that! And what do you mean by learn something?” 

“Yeah, like the fact that vampires aren’t just some made up Halloween thing. They are real.”

“You’re crazy.”

Gordon laughed. “No, you’re just stupid.”

“Am not.”

“Uh huh? What does your brother do on the weekends? Or when he doesn’t go to school? Or at night sometimes when you have to have a sitter watch you?”

Sammy shrugged, shifting in the seat to get as far away from the crazy, scary man as he could. “He helps Daddy and Mommy.”

“With what?”

“Don’t know.”

Gordon laughed. “That’s because for some reason you’re being left out of the loop, while big bro was getting his ass served up to monsters when he was your age. Your daddy and mommy must love you a helluva lot more than Dean-o.”

“That’s not true.” Sammy protested. 

“Sure.” The man stretched the word out, and his tone was very sarcastic. “That’s why they drag him out into a dangerous line of work and keep you safe.”

“They don’t.”

“How many times has big bro come back from helping your parents and been covered in blood?”

Sammy thought back to all the times Dean had come home with cuts, bruises, burns, and even the occasional bite marks. “He… he says he doesn’t watch what he’s doing. That it’s his fault that he gets hurt.”

“Wow. That makes him sound like an abused child.” Gordon laughed. 

“You don’t know anything.” Sammy yelled. He was scared of this guy, but he was also getting angry at him. Gordon was saying mean stuff about Dean and his daddy and mommy. 

“I know how he gets hurt so much. Do you?”

“What? You think it’s vampires?” Sammy asked sarcastically. 

“Not always. But yeah, sometimes.”

“You’re crazy.”

“No, I just know what’s out there. And so do your parents and Dean. See, we hunt these things so that they can’t hurt people like you.”

“You don’t help anyone! You kidnapped me! You’re a bad guy.” Sammy yelled at him.

“I told you; I only need you to get your stubborn-ass brother to do what I need him to do. He’s one very dangerous weapon, wrapped up in a small package, and that’s just what I need.”

“Dean’s gonna be dangerous when he gets his hands on you.” Sammy told Gordon. “He told me that if anyone ever hurt me he’d take care of them, and that’s what he’s gonna do to you.”

Gordon chuckled. “Not if he ever wants to see you alive again.”

Sammy felt tears start to come to his eyes again. “You… you’re going to kill me?”

“That’s entirely up to Dean.” the dark-skinned man shrugged. “He plays ball and does his job, you get to go home. He doesn’t, well… I hope you kissed your mommy and daddy goodbye this morning and told them that you loved them, because that’ll be the last time you all see each other.”

Sammy pulled his knees up to his chest and started to sob. He was terrified beyond belief. “Please, just let me go.”

“Can’t. Not until after the job’s done.”

Sammy looked over at the man. “And… and what about Dean. He gets to go home when the job’s done too, right?”

“We’ll see.” Gordon said with an evil looking smile on his face.

A while later, the car pulled off the main road and came to a stop.

“Why are we stopping?”

“I gotta pick your brother up from school soon and I sure as hell ain’t gonna do it with you sitting in the car next to me. Luckily, I have things planned out and you have different travel plans.” Sammy was trying to figure out what the man was talking about when he got out of the car and came around to open the passenger side door. “Get out.”

Sammy did as he was told, praying that both he and Dean would live through whatever was to come next.


	76. Deal

Chapter Seventy-Six: Deal

“So Dean, are you doing anything for Halloween? I know it’s still a few weeks away, but just figured I’d ask.” Emily questioned as they walked down the hall side by side, heading for the main doors after the final bell had rung, dismissing the students for the day.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe go out and kill some demons or something.”

Emily giggled. “Cool. I think I’ll hold some trials and then burn some witches.”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, you look more like the kind of chick that should be getting rid of ghosts.”

“I’m not joining the Ghostbusters.” Emily protested. “They are so sexist. The only girl that works with them has to be their secretary.”

“That’s lame. Chicks could so kill monsters.” Dean commented. He grinned at the fact that Emily had no clue how much truth was behind their banter. 

“Exactly. But I’m not even convinced that Janine is a girl. I think it’s just a guy in drag.”

“Oh dude, that’s just sick. She hits on that dorky guy all the time.”

“So, maybe he’s gay.”

“Okay, this conversation is over.” Dean put his hands up to his ears and started humming Metallica loudly. 

Emily laughed and pulled his hands away. “Seriously though, what’re you doing for Halloween?”

“Probably taking Sammy trick ‘r treating.”

“That’s cool. I wish I could still go. But my parents said that I was too old. I think they just didn’t want to be bothered buying a costume and taking me out anymore.”

Dean thought for a moment. “You wanna come with Sammy and me? You can just tell your parents that you’re going to a friend’s house to watch some lame-ass horror flicks and then we can go out and get some candy. And so that it won’t be a complete lie, we can watch some crappy movie when we get back and Sammy goes to sleep.”

“Really? That would be awesome! But I don’t have a costume.” 

“I’m sure you can find some stuff lying around your bedroom to toss together.”

Emily bit her lip while considering his offer. “Your parents won’t mind?”

“Nah, they’re cool with practically everything I do. Well, within reason.”

“Great! I’ll ask when I get home tonight! Thanks, Dean.”

“No problem. But it means that you’ll have to walk the entire neighborhood with me and listen to Sammy chatter on about everything under the sun.”

“He sounds adorable.” They had walked out the door and down the front steps and Emily waved to him as she turned to go and get on the bus. “Bye Dean. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya!” He called back.

Dean smiled as he walked towards the gate to where Cas was standing. He didn’t know why he’d invited Emily to go with him and Sam. Maybe because she was the first non-family/non-hunter person to be nice to him. Maybe because he thought it was dumb that she had to miss out on all the fun just because her parents decided that eleven was too old to go out trick ‘r treating. Maybe because there were so many times during his first childhood when he and Sammy had to miss out on some holiday or another that he didn’t want it to happen to someone else. Whatever the reason, he was now committed to it. But he’d never hung out with anyone from school outside of school in either timeline, so it would be an interesting experience.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“So, let’s grab Sammy and get home. I got a really lame science project I gotta get done before the weekend since we got that thing we gotta take care of with Dad and Mom on Saturday.”

They were on their way to the elementary school, when Dean heard the car approaching slowly from behind. He tensed up and reached into his pocket for the knife that he always kept there. Then the young hunter glanced behind himself and saw the large car pulling up to the curb. And it was going to come to a stop right next to him. Dean turned to face it and then saw who the driver was. 

When the window was rolled down, Dean curled his lip up into a snarl. “What the hell do you want?”

“Is that anyway to greet an old friend, Dean?”

“You and me have never been friends, Gordon, so cut the crap.” He felt Cas’s reassuring presence right behind him and was pretty sure that the angel was glaring daggers at the dark-skinned hunter as well.

“Fine then, down to business. Get in the car, Dean. But leave your friend here, please.”

“Not gonna happen, moron. My mom always told me not to get into cars with assholes.”

“Too bad no one told your brother the same thing.”

Dean felt his blood run cold. “You’re lying. Sammy wouldn’t go anywhere with you.” 

In response, Gordon reached down next to himself and picked something up. He tossed the item out of the window. Dean picked it up and felt his whole body tremble with fear and rage. It was Sammy’s backpack.

“Now, you can either get in the car with me now, or you can go in the school and ask around about him. Set off some alarms. And when you get out I won’t be here. Then tomorrow, I’ll find a way to pick you up and this time I’ll have one of your little brother’s fingers as proof. Which sounds like the best option to you?”

“Where is he? What do you want?” Dean asked, edging towards the car.

“He’s with one of my associates. And all I want is your help. Once the job is done, little Sammy gets to go home unharmed. But, if you don’t help, or if I see any of your family or friends lurking about, my partner kills your brother. So, we have a deal?”

It wasn’t even a question. “Deal. Just let me talk to Cas. Convince him to back off and keep my parents away.”

“Two minutes and I drive off.”

Dean spun around and dragged Cas away a couple of feet. “Can you sense Sammy?” He kept his voice low.

“No. Wherever he is, he is well hidden.”

“How? Gordon doesn’t even know what you are.”

Cas shook his head. “I am unsure. But some hunters have many wards up that block all supernatural entities, angels included. It is possible that Gordon’s partner is just paranoid.”

“Damn. Alright then. I’m going to go along with his deal then.”

“Dean…”

“And so are you. And I mean it, Cas. No popping up in the middle of the hunt. Not even invisible, just in case he hears or senses anything out of place. He’s one paranoid bastard. I saw a huge-ass cell phone in his car. He’s obviously in contact with his partner and I can’t do anything to risk Sammy’s life. Trust me, Gordon is nuts enough to hurt or even kill Sammy if I step out of line. Please, just go home and get my parents to stay put. Don’t make any move until I call you, okay? Promise.”

“I promise, Dean.”

Dean nodded, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. He really didn’t want to go anywhere with that psycho, but he had no choice. He had to keep Sammy safe.

The boy turned, walked around the car, and climbed into the passenger side, leaving both his and Sammy’s backpacks with Cas. Once in, he sat as far away from Gordon as the door would allow.

“I swear, if you hurt Sammy at all, I will end you.”

Gordon laughed. “You’re not really in a position to be issuing threats, Dean.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Gordon. But when you’re roasting in Hell before the day is out, don’t go crying to your mommy that you weren’t warned.”

“You’re a real smart-ass.”

“Better than being a dumb-ass like you.” There was silence in the car for a long time before Dean finally broke it. “So, what’s the job, and why do you need my help?”

“Vamp nest.”

Dean snorted. “What else? Anyone ever tell you that you have obsession issues?”

“As I was saying,” Gordon’s voice sounded pissed. Good. “It’s a vamp nest. Nine of them total, but they got their place locked up real tight. No way in. And believe me, I’ve been looking. So my partner and me, we came up with this plan that we’d wait for them to go out at night and ambush the first ones out the door.”

“You call that a plan? I’m surprised you’re still breathing.”

“Shut it! When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.” The older hunter snapped. “Anyway, my buddy was at the door when it opened, but those bastards knew. They got the drop on him.”

“He dead?”

“No, but almost. Which is why you’re on this mission now instead of him. But trust me, he’s well enough to finish off Sammy if you don’t play ball.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. I already agreed to your deal, Gordon. So stop pissing me off by threatening my brother.” Dean growled out. “And you haven’t answered my question. Why me? I’m sure you could’ve gotten someone else to work with you. Sure, you’re an ass, but you know how to play up to other hunters. Or at the very least, bribe them. Why go through all this trouble?”

“First off, I found a way in. But it’s a tight fit and no full grown adult would ever make it through. And second, these vamps have a rep for being rather vicious and I’m thinking that I might need a particularly nasty weapon to take them out. And somehow, when I think of weapons, an image of you comes to mind. That little five year old brat who had perfect aim and could decapitate a vamp like it was nothing. I look at you now and I see that the years have just made you more dangerous, haven’t they?”

Dean let out a humorless laugh. “You consider me this dangerous, yet you dare to touch my baby brother?”

“’Cause I know that you won’t dare harm me so long as I got him.”

“True. But you won’t have him forever.”

“And you may be a scary, badass hunter, but you’re still just a kid. You won’t take a human life.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think you qualify as human.”

“Tough talk.”

“Not just talk.”

“We’ll see.”

“Yeah. We will.” 

Dean turned his head to stare out the window. He watched as the scenery passed by and thought about how exactly he was going to deal with Gordon Walker when all of this was over with. As soon as the job was over and he knew that Sammy was safe, the man had to be taken care of. He’d kidnapped Dean’s little brother. That alone was an unforgivable act, but the young hunter knew from the original timeline just how dangerous and unrelenting the unstable man could be. And now that he knew that he could get to Dean and use him through Sammy, he’d never stop. Sammy would always be in danger from this bastard and that was unacceptable. Besides, Gordon was wrong. Dean wasn’t just a kid, and he could take a life if he had to. 

But before he could even begin to worry about preventing a ‘next time’, Dean had to worry about this time. Which meant he’d have to work with the nut job to take out a very dangerous nest of vamps. He sure hoped that this would go better than the first attempt went for Gordon’s partner. Dean wouldn’t be much help to Sammy if he was dead or dying. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

“I’m going to strangle Gordon Walker with my bare hands!” John Winchester yelled. He was storming around the living room with his hands fisted tightly, ready to punch something, but unfortunately the person he wanted to target was in a car somewhere with his eldest son.

John had gotten a call at work from his wife telling him to come home, that it was an emergency. He’d rushed out and driven back to the house like a madman, breaking every speed limit and driving law there was. When he’d arrived home, Cas had been there, but his boys had not. Then he’d listen as the angel had explained what had happened with Gordon. John felt his temper rise and now all he could do was pace the room and spit out curses and threats.

“I do not believe that he will allow you to get that close to him.” Cas informed him. 

“Then get us that close!” John screamed at the angel.

“I cannot!”

“I know what you promised Dean.” Mary cut in. “But maybe if we all ambush Walker at the same time we can get him to take us to Sam.”

“No.” Cas shook his head. “Dean was certain that Gordon would have Sam killed before he’d give up. Besides, I can no longer sense Dean. Not since they drove off. I believe that Gordon’s car is protected in the same way that his partner’s hideout is.”

“So we’ve lost both of them?” John’s legs felt unnaturally weak. “No. No, we have to do something.”

“Gordon hunts vampires, right? Why don’t we call Bobby? See if anyone knows what hunt Gordon was on?” Mary suggested.

“Because if word somehow gets back to Gordon’s partner that we are looking into it, we will be putting Sam’s life in danger.” Cas pointed out.

“Do we know who Gordon’s partner is?” John asked. “Maybe we can just go pay him a visit.”

“No.” Cas answered.

“So you’re saying there’s nothing we can do?” The idea of sitting in the house and just waiting did not sit right with the hunter.

“Right now it seems to be all up to Dean.”


	77. Waking and Breaking in

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Waking and Breaking in 

The sun had been up for a couple of hours when Gordon closed the trunk of his car again and headed back for the driver’s seat. Everything was all set and they would be at their destination about an hour before it got dark. Sleeping in the back seat had not been comfortable but stopping at a motel wasn’t really an option and besides, he’d only slept for four hours anyways. A quick glance at the passenger side front seat showed that Dean was still out and was turning and muttering in his sleep. The drugs Gordon had slipped into the boy’s food the previous evening had done the trick. Tasteless and odorless, they hadn’t been detected when he’d finally forced the brat to eat the takeout he’d gotten. It hadn’t been easy getting the drugs into the food without being caught, but it was worth it. Gordon had things to take care of that he didn’t need Dean awake for. Besides, Sammy as hostage or not, he really didn’t trust to go to sleep with the young hunter still awake.

He slid into the driver’s seat and started up the car. It almost stalled but luckily the engine decided to cooperate and moments later he was pulling out of the rest stop and back out onto the highway. Gordon kept his speed just over the limit; fast enough to get where he wanted quick enough but not so much that he’d draw any unwanted police attention. Dean might lie and go along with him to keep Sammy safe, but if the cops searched his car, well, he’d be screwed. And Gordon was not looking to do jail time. 

“No! Stop!” Dean started to thrash about in the seat and the older hunter was certain that the seatbelt was the only thing holding him in place.

“Wake up.” Gordon reached over and shoved the boy. Nothing happened. He rolled his eyes. The little brat was stuck in a nightmare. Not really his problem, but if he got louder or more violent it would get to be too distracting for him to drive with. “Hey, I said wake up!”

Still, the kid was fast asleep. Maybe he’d overdone it with the sleeping pills. 

“No, leave me alone! Oh God!” Then Dean let out a loud and pain filled scream that filled the whole car and made Gordon jump. The car swerved and almost crashed into a truck in the next lane over. The horn blast let out by the pissed off driver couldn’t even cover up the racket that the kid was making. He was twisting and thrashing in his seat while screaming. 

Gordon pulled off to the side of the road and turned off the car. He leaned over, grabbed the boy’s shoulders and shook him violently. At first, it looked like nothing would happen and the hunter was beginning to wonder if he had really screwed up by drugging the kid. Not like he didn’t want to take revenge on the brat for what he’d done at their last encounter, but he still needed Dean in one piece for this hunt. And a comatose hunter was no good to him at all. 

But then Dean’s eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly. His fist flew up and he punched Gordon in the face with a strength that the man wouldn’t have believed a nine year old could possess. Then the hunter suddenly found himself with small fingers wrapping around his throat. He looked into Dean’s face, which was just inches from his own, and was actually frightened by what he saw. The look in the boy’s eyes was barely human. Even when Dean had been threatening his life after discovering what Gordon had done to his brother, he hadn’t looked like this. 

Gordon managed to get his hands up and between them and pushed the boy back with all the force he could manage. Dean flew back and his head collided with the window. He let out a cry of pain as the glass cracked and he slumped down in his seat with his eyes closed. There was a moment of complete stillness and then Dean once more opened his eyes. Gordon tensed and went for his weapon, but the boy’s eyes looked dazed and confused, not dangerous, as he glanced around the car. 

“What… where…”

“In my car, where you just tried to strangle me, you piece of crap brat!” Gordon snarled.

Dean’s eyes snapped into focus on his face and his confusion seemed to clear up as anger rushed into his expression. “Well, too bad I didn’t succeed.”

“What the hell was that?”

“Exactly what you get for poisoning my food, you asshole. And yeah, I figured it out as I was drifting off against my will last night, douche-bag.”

Gordon reached over and smacked the boy’s mouth hard. “How about you keep your trap shut, kid.”

Dean licked the blood off his split lip and glared at Gordon. “You asked me a question. I answered.”

The hunter started up the car and pulled back out onto the road. “Great. Stuck with a kid with PTSD for a hunting partner.”

“What?” Dean looked over at him in shock.

“Your little episode? Yeah, I know what post traumatic stress disorder looks like. Worked with enough wacked out hunters to recognize it.”

Dean shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Yeah well, if it’s too much trouble, you can always turn this rust bucket around, go pick up Sammy, and drop us both off at home.”

“I think I’ll manage just fine so long as you keep your head.”

“Just don’t drug me again, or I make no promises.” Dean shot back.

After a few minutes, Gordon looked over at him. “What the hell were you dreaming about?”

“Your ugly face.”

“Cute.”

“Thanks, I know I am, but I don’t swing that way.” Dean smirked. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to make the rest of this trip in silence. You may have coerced me into helping you on this hunt, but I sure as hell ain’t gonna have a heart to heart with you on the way there.”

“I just want to make sure that your head’s in the game when it come time to get the job done. I don’t need you screwing this up over some bad dreams.” Gordon countered.

“Don’t worry. I know how to handle myself.”

“Good. This is far too important and I don’t want to have to worry about you screwing up because you can’t handle this life.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Trust me, you have no idea what I can handle.”

And that was all that was said about it for the rest of the trip.

…  
...supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean looked at the house from where he was hidden and took a deep breath. This was it. His job was to enter through the attic, make his way down to the front door to unlock it, and let Gordon in. He’d have to kill any vampires that stood in his way. Since it was just before sundown, there was a chance that they could all be asleep or that they could all be up and ready to go out for a night of fun. If it was option number two, then Dean was in for one hell of a battle. 

Gordon had told him when they’d stopped for food (with Dean watching very closely to make certain that the food wasn’t tampered with this time) that the leader of this particular nest was easily recognizable as he was tall and built like a body builder. He also was known to not go out with the nest very often. Dean hoped not to run into him until he got Gordon inside the house. He might not like the man very much, but he knew that the full grown man would be decent backup against such an opposing enemy. And Dean himself wanted to live long enough to see his little brother again. And to make Gordon pay for what he’d done.

The small hunter crept close to the house and over to one of the large trees near the side. He made certain that his machete was strapped tightly to his back and then he started to climb. The limbs weren’t close together and Dean really missed his six foot frame that he’d had when he was an adult. Of course, he doubted that some of the branches could’ve supported the weight of a full grown man. As he climbed, Dean glanced over at the house. Gordon hadn’t been kidding. That place had some serious security measures. Thick bars blocked all the windows, much too close together for even a child to slip through. There was only one door into the place, unless you counted the hatch that led down into the cellar but that was chained shut. The only place where someone could possibly slip in was a grate up in the attic, but it would be a tough fit even for Dean. The boy crouched down and leapt to grab onto the next branch up and swung his legs to pull himself onto it. He was thankful when it didn’t break and drop him onto the hard ground below. Dean wondered briefly what would become of Sammy if he died on this hunt. Would Gordon return the boy to his parents? Or would he kill him out of spite for Dean not completing the job? Knowing the jackass of a hunter, it was best not to find out. 

When Dean reached the higher (and less stable) branches, he went out on the limbs as far as he dared and reached out a hand towards the house. The branch that he was on started to crack. The small hunter prayed that the drain pipe was attached securely as he jumped and grabbed a hold of it. Dean let out a sigh of relief as it didn’t budge an inch, nor did it make any noise. 

With a groan from the strain that his arms were protesting against, Dean maneuvered his body so that he was hanging near the grate that he’d have to crawl into. Then he reached into his pocket with one hand and pulled out a screwdriver. The boy proceeded to remove the screws from all four corners that held the metal in place, occasionally switching arms or taking a break and using both to hold himself up. When the grate finally came off, Dean grabbed it and carefully placed it inside the attic, wincing as it made a very slight noise. Then he swung himself into the small opening gently. His feet hit the floor softly, making no sound at all. Then Dean slowly eased the rest of his body through. But when he tried to get his shoulders through, he actually got stuck. The boy almost laughed. For five years now he’d felt far too small and now he was actually a bit too big for a job. He wiggled and tugged and finally got one arm through, gasping as he almost dislocated his shoulder in the process. 

Once he was completely in the attic, Dean took the opportunity to look around. There were several sturdy beds all lined up around the large room. And on each bed was a young man or woman tied to the metal headboard. Dean counted nine people total. One victim for each vampire. It was just sick. 

Dean cautiously approached the first bed and the young woman turned her head, obviously sensing his movements, and her eyes opened wide. The young hunter put his finger up to his lips in a silencing gesture and shook his head. The terrified woman nodded. The boy got a good look at her when he reached the bedside. She was probably around twenty years old and had bite marks on her neck and down both arms. She was dressed in nothing but her underwear and her hair was clearly unwashed. The woman was pale and weak and Dean figured that she’d been here for a while.

“My name’s Dean. I’m not one of them. I’m here to help. Are you… they didn’t make you drink their blood, did they?” He whispered. 

She shook her head. “No.” Her voice was barely audible.

“I promise not to hurt you, but can I just check in your mouth. Just to be sure.”

“Show… show me your teeth first.” She whispered.

Dean opened his mouth and ran his tongue over his teeth. “No fangs. I told you; I’m not one of them. Now, can I check you?” She nodded and opened her mouth. Dean carefully pulled her top lip up and looked her gums over. Satisfied, he let go. “Okay. I just had to be sure. Look, I can’t get you all free right now. That would attract far too much attention and we’d all get killed. But once I’m done here, I’ll take care of you. You’ll be out of here before the night is over, I promise.”

The young woman looked at him like he was crazy. “Just get out and call the police now. They’ll kill you.”

Dean shook his head. “You know what these things are. The cops don’t know how to deal with them. I have to handle this.”

“But you’re just a kid.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Now just stay quiet. This’ll all be over soon.”

Dean sent her his most reassuring smile and crept quietly across the room. He saw stairs leading down to a door and let out a sigh of relief. If there had only been a trapdoor down, there wouldn’t have been a quiet way for him to have exited the attic. 

He was about halfway there when the door started to open. Dean froze and looked around trying to decide what his next move should be. Whatever it was going to be, he had to figure it out quick, because in just moments, the vampire that was behind the door would be coming up into the attic with him.


	78. Heads Will Roll

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Heads Will Roll 

Dean made it under one of the beds just in time as the vampire entered the attic, closing the door behind him. The boy hoped that the monster didn’t smell him or anything, but with all the scared and bleeding victims tied down in the room, he doubted that he’d be detected. And it wasn’t like the vamp was expecting company or anything. A kid hiding under one of these beds was probably the last thing on the freak’s mind. Even so, the young hunter lay very still and held his breath as a pair of feet passed his hiding place and stopped at the bed right next to the one he was under. 

“Hey there, cupcake. How you doing tonight? Now, I’m sorry to say that we don’t have any time for some real fun, just a little foreplay and my snack. But I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” The male voice chuckled.

Dean felt sick as the woman on the bed started to cry. It wasn’t the same girl he’d spoken to earlier, and he had no clue what kind of condition she was in. In the end it didn’t matter. There was just no way that he could lay there in hiding while a vamp perv took advantage of, and then fed from, an innocent woman. 

The young hunter moved quietly, shifting closer to edge of the bed. He heard sound of old springs groaning as the vampire climb onto the mattress. Dean removed his machete from where he’d kept it strapped to his back and then slid himself completely out from his hiding place. The boy remained on all fours and glanced up onto the other bed. The vampire was straddling a dark haired woman and his hands were roaming all over her almost naked body. Dean clenched his jaw tightly and stood up behind the monster, where he knew that he wouldn’t be seen. Hell, with how into his despicable actions the vamp was, the hunter could set off fireworks in the attic and it would go unnoticed. 

Dean could feel the eyes of the other victims on him, but he knew that they wouldn’t do anything to tip the vamp off. He crept quietly over to the bed and realized that there was no way he’d be able to reach to cut off the vampire’s head while standing down on the floor. Not with his child sized body. So, adjusting his grip on his weapon, the small hunter bent his knees and leapt up onto the bed.

“Hey dumbass, when a lady says no, she means no.” He kept his voice down so as not to alert any of the others downstairs.

“What the…” The vamp sat up, startled. He stared at Dean in shock.

Dean launched himself forwards and pushed the vampire down onto his back. The boy straddled the creature’s chest and brought his blade down as hard as he could on the vamp’s neck. The edge of it had been sharpened to such extent that a single blow took the monster’s head off. Dean swung one of his legs over the body and climbed off. Then he rolled the corpse off of the young woman, careful not to let it fall onto the floor so that the noise wouldn’t alert anyone.

Dean took a deep breath. One down, eight to go. This one had been easy, as Dean had taken him by surprise, but he couldn’t count on the rest going down the same. 

He made his way carefully across the attic, making sure to stay as silent as possible. As he reached the stairs, Dean turned and looked back at the people tied to the beds. They were staring at him with a mix of shock, awe, hope, and fear.

“Don’t worry. This’ll be over soon and you can all go home.”

Dean took the stairs quietly and turned the doorknob slowly. The door made a slight creaking noise and the boy winced. He slipped through the slight crack that he’d opened it and looked around. He found himself in a long, deserted hall. Dean thought about the layout of the house and where he was in relation to the front door and then turned left. He walked a few steps before a door to his right suddenly opened. A woman wearing too much makeup, knee-high boots, and not much else stepped out. Dean reacted immediately and kicked her in the kneecap. She let out a small cry and fell to her knees. The slutty vampire chick hissed at him, showing off her row of sharp teeth and Dean responded by decapitating her. Luckily, her neck was exceedingly thin and easy for his sharp weapon to cut through. The semi-loud thud of her body and head hitting the floor couldn’t be helped and the boy hoped that it didn’t bring the others rushing to his position. 

When nothing happened right away, Dean continued on his way. Not too much further down the hall, he reached a staircase and followed it down. At the bottom, he started towards where he knew the front door would be, but then he heard two sets of footsteps heading his way. Dean knew that taking out two at a time would be a challenge and that if they called in reinforcements he’d be screwed for sure. The young hunter ducked through the first door he saw, praying that there wasn’t a vampire hanging out in the room behind it. Apparently, his prayer was not to be answered.

Dean turned around after carefully closing the door and saw a figure sitting in a chair staring at him. The man snarled at him and the boy caught a flash of a full mouth of sharp fangs. He tensed and lifted his machete to attack but hesitated as the vamp didn’t make a move. Then Dean realized why. He was tied to a chair.

Dean laughed. “What the hell happened to you? Piss off the other vamps? Or is this some kinda kinky game that I really don’t wanna know about?”

The vampire looked him over. “A smart mouthed young brat wielding a machete. You must be Dean Winchester.”

Dean froze. “What? How do you know who I am?”

“A mutual friend.” The vampire replied. “And I use the term ‘friend’ loosely. More like, an associate who can’t be trusted to watch your back.”

Dean looked the vampire over closely. He was dressed in jeans, a red plaid shirt, and work boots. His clothes were stained with blood and his skin was pale. He definitely had the look of both a hunter and a newly made vampire. And Dean could easily put together the pieces.

“You’re Gordon’s hunting partner.”

“Was. Until he handed me over to these bastards with his dumbass plan. And now it seems that he somehow roped you into helping him out.”

“Yeah. He kidnapped my baby brother and threatened to kill him if I didn’t do what he wanted. But… but he said that you were the one holding Sammy hostage.”

The vampire let out a laugh. “Obviously he lied.”

Dean shook his head. “No. He took Sammy. I know he did. So, if my brother’s not with you…” The boy thought hard about everything he’d seen Gordon do and heard Gordon say. He had a phone, but never used it to contact anyone. They never left the car, not even to eat their food. He’d drugged Dean, so he’d have had plenty of time to do anything for hours. Gordon had kept his weapons bag in the backseat of his car, and he’d never opened the trunk at all, at least not in front of Dean. Putting all of that together, the boy knew what Gordon had done with Sammy. “Gordon’s dead. I’m going to kill him. I am going to freakin’ kill Gordon.”

Gordon’s ex-partner snorted. “Good for you, kid. But if you wouldn’t mind killing me first, I’d really appreciate it.”

Dean looked over at him. “Have you… uh, have you fed?”

“I didn’t want to, but they made me. And the hunger… it’s just so damn impossible to control. I know I’m a monster, kid. And you’re a hunter. We both know how this ends.”

“Yeah, we do.” Dean replied, somewhat regretfully. It sucked that this poor bastard had to meet a gruesome end just because he made a dumb decision and partnered up with the biggest douche-bag of the hunting community. 

“Tell Gordon he’s an ass.” The ex-hunter requested. 

“I think I’ll use stronger words than that, but I promise he’ll get the message.”

The guy nodded. “Good. And in case you’re wondering, I offed one of the vamps. I think that’s why they turned me. They like to keep their number at nine. And they got some victims up in the attic.”

“I know. They’ll be fine.”

“Yeah… Well, let’s get this over with then.”

“Yeah.”

After the hunter turned vampire was taken care of, Dean crept back over to the door and listened. He didn’t hear anything. There were still six vampires out there, but they didn’t seem to be close by. So, the small hunter eased the door open and slipped out. 

He started off for the door when a tall male vampire came around a corner and stopped to stare at him. Dean ran towards him, hoping to catch him by surprise. The vamp grinned and came at him, reaching his arm out to grab the boy’s shirt. Dean found himself lifted up into the air. From that position, there was no way that he could decapitate the vampire. But that didn’t mean that he was out of options. 

The small hunter reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the needles he’d kept stashed in there. He used his teeth to yank the cap off and stabbed it into the monster’s skin. Dean depressed the stopper and injected the dead man’s blood into the vampire. As the fluid acted like a poison to the creature, Dean was released and fell to the ground. He landed in a crouch as the vamp crumpled to the ground. Moments later, it was missing its head. Sure, it had taken a good three blows to decapitate this freak, but it was done. Four vamps were now dead. And Dean could see the front door.

The boy reached the door with no further problems. He unlocked it and swung it open. Dean looked out and didn’t see any sign of Gordon Walker. He didn’t know how he felt about that. On the one hand, seeing the man at this point would’ve just pissed him off further. But on the other, there were still five more vampires left and Dean hoped that the older hunter wasn’t planning on hanging him out to dry like he had his previous partner. The boy wasn’t about to meet the same fate as that poor bastard. 

Dean left the door open and went back into the house to continue the hunt. Whether or not that son of a bitch showed his damned face, there were still monsters to kill and victims to save. He wondered if he should head back upstairs to check the rest of the rooms there. He’d passed three closed doors. Any of them could’ve hid vampires. 

The boy had his right foot on the first step when he heard something right behind him. Dean turned around, machete ready, and saw Gordon standing there. He came close to finishing the man off right then and there, but knew that he might need the back up, so he lowered his weapon.

“There’s five left.” He whispered. “You go upstairs. I’ll check the rooms down here.”

“I’m in charge of this hunt.” The dark-skinned hunter growled back.

“Like hell you are.” Dean challenged. “You’re a screw-up, Walker. I got us in, I know the layout better, I make the calls. There are three closed doors up there. Check them out and come back down.” 

Dean almost blurted out that he knew what had happened to Gordon’s partner and knew the truth about where Sammy was, but that was something that he’d keep a secret for now. Which was why he’d decided to take the downstairs; so Gordon wouldn’t find the remains of his hunting partner.

“Fine. But only because I agree with your plan. But you talk back again kid, and we are gonna have problems.”

“You and me already have problems, asshat.” Dean shot back.

Gordon backhanded him across the face. Only the thoughts of what was to come stopped Dean from getting into a full-fledged fight right then and there. He had a hunt to complete and a brother to get to. So, the small hunter settled for glaring at the man and turning his back on him.

Holding his weapon in one hand, Dean grasped the doorknob to the first room he came to and got ready to take a look inside.


	79. Sealed Fate

Chapter Seventy-Nine: Sealed Fate 

Dean opened the door and peered down into a dimly lit basement. He couldn’t see much so he started to creep quietly down the stairs. There was a light on down there and, as Dean descended, he could see that it was coming from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. From his position on the stairs, the boy could see that the basement was partially finished and there was a large king-sized bed in the middle of a hideous rug to the right. And lying on the bed was the large form that had to be none other than the lead vamp himself. Dean saw the vampire twitch a bit as the step he was on creaked slightly. Nope. Not going down there yet. Far too risky. So, he carefully backtracked and closed the door. Then Dean noticed that the door had a bolt lock a bit higher up. He considered latching it, but decided against it. The sound would certainly tip off anyone down there that something was up. Besides, vamps were strong and while it would slow down a vampire trying to get upstairs, it wouldn’t stop him. 

The young hunter walked past a large kitchen and into a dining area. From there he found a small hallway with three doors. The first was a linen closet. The second was an empty bedroom. Dean was just thinking that he was striking out when he pulled open the final door. It turned out to be the bathroom and it was occupied by a vampire chick that was in the middle of styling her still wet hair. 

“Uh sorry, should’ve knocked. Totally my mistake.” Dean commented as she spun around to face him in shock. 

The boy raised his machete and lunged forwards, aiming a kick at her knee to knock her down as he had the female vamp upstairs. But the chick sprung back, then rushed Dean, leaving the young hunter little room to maneuver in the small bathroom. He tried to dodge to the left but the vampire snatched his shirt and swung him into the wall. He grunted and launched a kick at her. It connected, but not as hard as he’d like. She smacked him across the face (and what was up with everyone doing that to him lately?) which left him feeling slightly dazed. Dean blinked a couple times and tried to push the bitch off of himself. But she was strong and from the position he was in, the boy couldn’t get the machete around to decapitate her. And then he found himself being pushed backwards and down. Dean thought at first that she was going to try and feed on him, but then his head was pushed into the bathtub and underwater. 

The boy was unprepared for it and thus ended up taking in a huge mouthful of water and accidentally swallowing it. Dean gagged, coughed, and choked, but couldn’t pull in any air. His eyes were wide as he thrashed about trying to get free. But the vamp bitch held tight. In a desperate move, Dean stopped his flailing and brought both his hands to hold onto the handle of the machete. With what strength he had left, the small hunter brought the sharp weapon down on the vampire’s wrist. He was released as a hand and a fountain of blood joined him in the tub of water. Dean slid further in for a few seconds as he fought for purchase and then managed to get his head above the now pink water. He gasped for air as he sputtered out the water that had gotten caught in his lungs. 

The vamp bitch was shrieking as she held her severed wrist and Dean took the opportunity that her hysterics was providing to dart around her and climb up onto the toilet for added height. The chick seemed to realize that he’d move and turned, but too late. Dean swung his machete and separated her head from her neck. Then he dropped down to sit on the closed toilet lid and took a deep, yet shaky breath. 

The fight, and near drowning, had left him tired. But Dean knew that he wasn’t done yet. He was going to have to pull himself together, go out there, clear the rest of this floor, meet up with the asshole known as Gordon Walker, kill the lead vamp, take care of Gordon, and then go out to the car and free Sammy from the trunk where the little guy had been trapped since the previous day. Sammy. His brother was going to be traumatized after this. No. No, he couldn’t afford to think about that right now. _Focus on one thing at a time, Dean. Step one is to get off your tired, half-drowned ass and go make sure that there’s no more vampires lurking around on this floor._ Dean mentally flipped off the voice in his head, but pulled himself to his feet and followed his own orders.

It turned out that there wasn’t much more for him to explore, and by the time he made it back to the stairs where he and Gordon had parted ways, the other hunter was waiting for him. And Dean noticed that the door leading to the room where he’d encountered the dark-skinned hunter’s previous partner was wide open. The boy glanced from it to the man and back again.

“Something you want to tell me?” Gordon asked.

“I don’t know.” Dean replied. “Anything _you_ want to get off _your_ chest?”

They glared at each other a moment.

“You know who he was.” It wasn’t a question, so Dean said nothing and Gordon continued. “Then you must’ve figured out…”

“That you couldn’t have left Sammy with him.” Dean finished. “Yeah. And I know where he is. You’re one sick son of a bitch to lock a five year old in the trunk of your car. And if I didn’t think that the vampires might’ve come outside in the time it would’ve taken me to pick the lock and get him out, I would’ve left your ass here to get eaten and gotten my brother to safety by now.”

Gordon practically snarled at him. “Well, I still got the keys to the trunk and a gun to put a bullet in baby brother’s head. So you knowing the truth changes nothing.” Dean glared at him as the older hunter actually pulled out the gun and held it up. “Now, I got three of them upstairs. You kill anymore?”

“One more. And the leader’s in the basement.” Dean responded in an icy tone and pointed at the door.

“Then let’s finish this and go our separate ways.” Dean watched as the man opened the basement door and looked down. Then Gordon turned to him with a gleam in his eyes. “You know what we need? Bait.” He stepped forwards and roughly grabbed Dean’s arm. The boy was pulled towards the stairs but he jerked his arm away from the ruthless hunter.

“No way. That’s crazy. I go down as bait, I’m dead.”

Gordon shrugged. “We’ll never take him by surprise. He’s gotta know we’re here and he’ll be lying in wait. Beast plan I got is I send you down and then kill him while he’s busy.”

“Hell no. I’ll be killed, and the vamp is probably too smart to let himself get distracted by eating to the point that he wouldn’t notice a hunter sneaking up on him. I won’t do it.”

Gordon cocked his gun. “I need bait. And it’s either going to be you or I go out to my car and get your brother.” Then he grinned. “You know, that’s an even better idea. We use little Sammy. Then we’ll have a distracted vampire and two hunters to kill it. And I’ll know for sure that you’ll be motivated to take out the vampire as quickly as possible.”

And that was it. Dean had had a plan. The plan was to work with Gordon to gank all the vampires before taking care of the hunter, that way the boy wouldn’t have to face off against the leader by himself. But at the man’s words, Dean saw red and threw his plan out the window. 

He ran straight at Gordon and swung his machete, burying the blade deep into the man’s right thigh. The hunter screamed in shock and pain and dropped the gun to grab at the wound. Dean reached out and went to grab the weapon, but Gordon shoved him back, pulled the machete free and took a swing at the boy. The smaller of the two combatants dropped down and the blade merely grazed the side of his head. He gasped in pain, but crawled forward and snatched up the gun. Then he rolled away from the enraged hunter. Gordon kicked out but missed Dean and almost collapsed to the ground as his weight was shifted to his injured leg. The boy scrambled to his feet and aimed the pistol at the man.

“What are you going to do, boy? Shoot me? You don’t have the balls?”

“Really? That’s what you think? You kidnap my brother, threaten to kill him, make me do your dirty work, and now were going to feed him to a vampire and you think I won’t kill you. Think again.” Then Dean looked behind Gordon and to the dimly lit staircase. His eyes widened as he saw a dark figure starting to ascend the steps. “But you know what, I don’t think I will shoot you dead.”

He watched as Gordon seemed to relax a bit. “See kid, I knew you didn’t have it in you. Now hand the gun over and let’s finish this job.”

Dean pulled the trigger and shot the man in the left knee, dropping him to the ground. “I said I wouldn’t shoot you dead. I didn’t say that I wouldn’t kill you. You’re far too dangerous to my family to allow you to live. But you know what? You were gonna feed Sammy to a vamp? I think this is kinda poetic.” With that, Dean stepped forwards and kicked Gordon in the chest, knocking him backwards and down the stairs, right at the huge vampire that had paused to watch the confrontation. 

Dean stayed in place long enough to watch as the vamp sunk his fangs into Gordon’s neck and practically tore his entire throat out. Then the boy slammed the door shut and latched it. It wouldn’t hold for long at all, so he’d have to move fast. 

The small hunter snatched up his machete that the other hunter had dropped when he’d been shot and ran back upstairs all the way to the attic. The cut on his head stung a bit and blood was trickling down the side of his face, but he knew that it wasn’t serious. It didn’t even slow him down. 

When he reached the large room, he ran to the first bed and cut the woman free. Then he handed her a knife.

“Start freeing the others.” He instructed and then moved on to a guy that was tied down. Once he was free, Dean gave him a knife as well. Then he turned to address them. “There’s still a vampire locked in the basement and he’s gonna break free soon enough but the rest are dead. And this one’s not gonna come up here for you guys. He’s gonna be after me. But I need to go help my brother now, so I gotta count on you guys to take care of each other. Those who’re stronger help the others but stay put. If you try to get downstairs while the vampire’s still in the house, he _will_ kill you. Once it’s safe, I’ll have a friend named Cas come and let you know. Then you guys can get the hell outta here and get some medical help. And don’t mention me to the cops, okay? Or say anything about vampires unless you wanna be locked up in the looney bin. The whole kidnapped by a cult excuse works best.”

He turned and started to head for the stairs when a small voice stopped him. “Thank you.”

Dean turned and smiled at the woman that he’d first encountered upon entering the house. “It’s my job. But, you’re welcome.”

Then he ran back downstairs and out the front door. He was pleasantly surprised to note that the cellar door was still closed and latched. The vampire must still be enjoying his meal. The whole feeding the vamp idea that Gordon had had actually turned out to be a good distraction.

Dean reached Gordon’s piece of crap car and raced around to the trunk. Realizing that he had no lock picks on him, the boy opened the backdoor and started to fish through all of the deceased hunter’s junk to find something that would work. After a moment, he went back to the trunk with two pieces of wire. Dean inserted them and wiggled them around, expertly feeling for the right positions. The boy breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the lock give a click. Dean didn’t even bother to remove the wires as he slid his fingers under the lip of the trunk and lifted it open.


	80. Out of the Trunk and Into the Fire

Chapter Eighty: Out of the Trunk and Into the Fire 

It was dark and chilly and Sammy was so very scared. He’d been tied up and gagged in the trunk of Gordon’s car for so long now. He’d been put back there yesterday and taken out last night only to see his brother sleeping in the front seat. He’d called Dean’s name but the bad man had laughed at him and said that his big brother was not going to wake up. That scared Sammy a lot. What had happened to Dean? He looked okay, except for the fact that he was making little noises in his sleep. Gordon had given Sammy some food and water and let him sit in the back seat for a while. But as the sun was starting to come up, Sammy was dragged back out and tossed into the trunk again. The little boy had cried and begged and pleaded but the man had hit him in the face and told him to shut up. Then he’d taped Sammy’s mouth shut again and tied his hands and feet and told him that if he wasn’t quiet, both Dean and Sammy would be shot in the head. Gordon had even shown the boy his gun, pushing it up against his head. So Sammy had tried to stay quiet.

After a very long time the trunk had opened again and Gordon had told him that Dean was fighting the vampires and that if he lived through it Sammy would be going home soon. Then the trunk was closed again. 

Now Sammy was crying softly. He was hungry and thirsty and scared and the man had left him in so long without letting him use the bathroom that he’d had an accident, so he was wet too. He just wanted Dean to be okay and come back and make everything better. He’d heard his brother screaming early that morning and hoped that the bad man hadn’t hurt Dean. 

Just then he heard what sounded like the trunk being unlocked. He was happy but scared too. He didn’t want to be in here any longer, but what if Gordon told him that Dean was dead? Or just shot him? Or…

The trunk opened and Sammy looked up to see Dean staring down at him. The bad man was no where to be seen. Sammy felt like shouting for joy.

“Sammy! Oh god! It’s okay, Sammy. I’m here and I’m gonna get you outta there.” Dean reached in and helped Sammy sit up. Then he gently pulled the tape off of the boy’s mouth. 

“Dean! You’re okay! But you’re hurt.” And he was. Sammy’s big brother was wet from his chest up, his face was bruised, and he had a cut on the side on his head that was bleeding a little. Sammy knew that Dean had gotten hurt before but their dad had always fixed him up before Sammy got to see his brother. He’d never seen the older boy still bleeding before.

“It’s nothing, Sammy. What about you? How did this happen?” Dean touched the sore spot on Sammy’s face where Gordon had hit him.

“The bad man hit me.”

Dean made a face that Sammy had only seen once before, after someone had tried to take Sammy’s lunch money, and right before Dean had punched them. “Well, you don’t ever have to worry about him again, Sammy. I took care of him.”

“He… he won’t hurt me again?”

“Never. I promise.”

“Okay, Dean.” Sammy trusted Dean to keep his promises and to keep him safe.

Dean pulled out a switchblade knife and cut the rope that had tied Sammy’s feet together. Then he reached around the boy and freed his hands. Sammy threw his arms around his brother. Dean pulled him out of the trunk and held him tight. After a moment he let go.

“There’s a phone in the car, Sammy. I’m gonna grab it and call Cas to come and take you home, okay?”

“What about you, Dean?” Sammy followed his brother as the older boy walked around to the front of the car. 

“After Cas drops you off at home, I’m gonna need his help back here to finish something up. But then I’ll be home with you. And we’ll have some hot cocoa and cookies and I’ll let you sleep in my room tonight. How’s that sound?”

Sammy thought that that sounded perfect. After the last two days, he needed Dean to make everything alright. But he wished that Dean was coming right home with him. The little boy watched his big brother open the front door and pull out a large, black phone. Dean tried to turn it on and then muttered a word that Sammy had heard their daddy use before but then had told them never to repeat. 

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Battery’s dead. Makes sense. Gordon never needed to use the damned thing, so he didn’t care about charging it.” Dean threw the phone down onto the ground. Then he ran his hands through his hair as Sammy stood watching him. “Okay… okay. C’mon, Sammy. We gotta go find a phone somewhere. There’s a bunch of houses in this neighborhood, further down the road, and I’m sure one of them will let us borrow their phone.”

“But Dean, Daddy and Mommy say to never go into strangers’ houses.”

“I know, Sammy. But we gotta move fast. Besides, now that we’re outta that car and away from that symbol I saw in the trunk, maybe Cas will sense us and just disobey my orders and come on his own. Either way, I’ll keep you safe.”

Sammy had no clue what Dean was talking about, but as his brother handed him a bottle of water he’d grabbed from the car, the little boy decided that it didn’t matter. He took a huge gulp of the water and smiled. Dean had rescued him and was taking care of him. He was safe.

He kept thinking that right up until someone grabbed him by the arm. 

“Dean!” Sammy shouted.

Dean had been standing by his side and spun around to face him. Sammy turned his head, trying to see who’d grabbed him, fearing that he’d see Gordon standing there. But the guy definitely wasn’t Gordon. He was taller and stronger and his skin was so pale. The man’s hair was also very light, even lighter than Dean’s hair. His eyes were blue and he looked so mean. 

“Let him go.” Dean ordered.

“But I’m still hungry.” The man protested. “Even after that wonderful meal I just had. Figured I’d have me some dessert now.”

Sammy was confused. Did this guy want money to buy food? If he did, he was out of luck. Sammy didn’t carry any cash on him. But maybe Dean did. If so, the boy hoped that his brother would just give it to the guy so he’d go away. ‘Cause if Dean tried to fight him, the older boy would get hurt for sure. And Sammy was scared and tired and just wanted to go home.

“Not gonna happen. Now, release him and step away.”

“I can… or I can do this.” Without any further warning, the big man grabbed Sammy around his waist and lifted him into the air. Sammy screamed in fear but the man cut him off. “Shut up! Now little hunter, you and I need to talk.” Sammy turned his head again to look at the man and saw that his mouth, which was very close to the boy’s face, was filled with sharp teeth. Something Gordon had said came back to him. Vampire. This man was a vampire. And Dean must’ve been here to hunt them, just like Gordon had planned. It was all true! But he couldn’t even think on it much because the man… vampire kept talking to Dean. “When I broke out of my cellar, I saw the carnage left behind on the main floor. I can only imagine that the second floor looks the same. Now, I know who Walker is. I knew he was targeting us even before we turned his last partner. So, his turning up at my home tonight was not that big of a shock. But imagine my surprise when I smelled your scent, not that of Walker’s on the corpses of my fallen comrades. A boy that has yet to hit puberty has taken out my entire nest? How is this even possible?”

“Maybe you and your nest just aren’t as badass as you seem to think you are?” Sam watched as Dean shrugged.

“And then you kill Walker? It makes no sense.”

Sammy’s eyes widened. Dean _killed_ Gordon? No way. 

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Don’t play stupid. You heard the entire conversation and you know exactly why I did what I did. Besides, I just shot him in the knee to protect Sammy. You’re the one who killed him.”

“However you want to word it, hunter. But you are a curious creature. You’d make a great addition to my nest.”

“No, I really wouldn’t. Trust me on this. The last douche-bag vamp that tried that ended up with no head. Oh, and by the way, just in case you forgot, you have no nest for me to join.”

The vampire tightened his grip on Sammy and the boy tried his hardest not to scream or cry or make any noise that would upset the vampire and get him killed. He didn’t want to die. 

“I didn’t forget. But I think I’ll just kill your baby brother for revenge, turn you, and then start a new nest. How does that sound?”

Tears leaked out of Sammy’s eyes. He was so scared. “Dean.” He whispered in a pleading voice. 

“It’s okay, Sammy.” Dean replied. And Sammy believed him. Dean would make it better. “This loser won’t kill you. I won’t let him.”

“And how are you going to stop me?” The vampire challenged.

“Like this.” Dean suddenly charged forwards and Sammy had never seen him move so fast. And he had something in his hand. It looked like a needle, like the doctors gave them when they went for their check-ups. Except they always had to go to a special doctor that Uncle Bobby knew for Dean because Daddy said that other doctors would ask questions about Dean’s scars. 

But when Dean got close to the vampire, Sammy was thrown to the side. He hit the ground hard and rolled on the pavement. He screamed in pain as his left ankle twisted. It hurt a lot and the little boy grabbed at it and cried. His left knee was hurting too. Sammy looked and saw that his good school pants were torn and his knee was bleeding a little. The boy sat on the hard ground sniffling and wiping at his tears before remembering that there was a vampire still near him. And Dean was fighting it to keep him safe.

Sammy looked over and gasped at the sight. The broken needle was lying on the ground not too far away from him. Why Dean had had it and what he was going to do with it, Sammy didn’t know, but it was obvious that he hadn’t ever gotten a chance to use it. Because Sammy’s big brother was now held up by the front of his shirt by the large and mean-looking vampire. Dean was struggling but he couldn’t get free. 

“Dean!” Sammy meant to call out but it only emerged as a whisper.

The vampire grabbed a handful of Dean’s hair and jerked his head to the side. Sammy watched in horror as the creature’s teeth got close to his brother’s neck. He was certain that Dean was going to die. But at the last moment, the older boy braced his legs against the vampire and tried to push away. He didn’t succeed in escaping, but he twisted away enough that the fangs missed his neck and sunk into his shoulder instead. Sammy watched as the sharp teeth tore at his brother’s skin and blood ran down his t-shirt. Dean let out a cry and still tried to fight back.

“Dean!” Sammy screamed, praying that something would save his brother. He couldn’t lose Dean. Sammy had just been kidnapped but Dean had rescued him. Sammy had learned that vampires were real, but Dean had protected him from one. No matter what happened, Sammy could count on Dean. So Dean just couldn’t die. He couldn’t.


	81. Not Safe Yet

Chapter Eighty-One: Not Safe Yet 

The vampire’s grip on his hair was incredibly painful, but not nearly as bad as the agony that was radiating out from the torn flesh of Dean’s left shoulder. But the young hunter was grateful that he’d been able to shift enough that the fangs had missed his jugular, or he wouldn’t be making it out of this alive. Still, he’d have to get free quickly if he didn’t want to pass out from blood loss. If that happened, he’d either never wake up, or worse yet, wake as a vampire. Again.

“Dean!” 

Damn. He’d hoped that Sammy would run off once the vampire had thrown him but it seemed as though his baby brother was still there. 

“Sammy, stay back!”

He couldn’t turn his head to see the younger boy, at least not without tearing more flesh from his body than he could survive without. But he trusted that Sammy would listen to him. This wasn’t the headstrong young man that would rush to his rescue. This was a terrified little kid that would look to his big brother to make everything better. Now it was just up to Dean to follow through and actually make everything better. Because if he died at this bastard’s hands, Sammy would surely be next.

But it was the whole ‘not dying’ thing that was gonna be a bitch to accomplish. The rather large vampire had the advantage and Dean was losing blood rapidly. How the son of a bitch could even still be hungry after draining Gordon, the young hunter didn’t know, but it was obvious that the creature still had plenty of room in its stomach for more. 

Dean tried to ignore the fear and pain and push past the lightheadedness as he reached into his pocket for his last needle. His hand trembled slightly. The boy acknowledged that his fingers were a bit numb, but that was just another thing he’d have to place on the backburner for the moment. Survival took precedent to everything else. He’d take stock of all the rest once he made it through this and Sammy and him were home safe. Dean was just glad that this hadn’t happened a couple of years ago. Nowadays he’d learned to control his younger emotions so much better than when Cas had first brought him back and placed him in this smaller packaging.

The boy flicked the plastic cap off the sharp end of the needle and held it in his fist. Then he brought it up and plunged it into the vamp’s neck. After emptying the contents into the vampire, Dean prayed it would work before he died of blood loss. But even if it didn’t, it would slow the monster down enough that maybe Sammy could escape to a nearby house and call home for help. And as long as Sammy would be safe, Dean would be content.

Then Dean found himself falling to the pavement. He tucked himself into the best crouch he could and rolled as he hit the hard and unforgiving ground. A cry of pain escaped his lips as his wounded shoulder was jostled but Dean pushed through it. The vampire had collapsed to his knees but was still trying to reach forwards and grab at the small hunter. Holy crap! This guy just didn’t quit. And apparently he was big enough that he’d have needed a larger dose of dead man’s blood. But Dean didn’t have any more, so this would just have to do. 

The boy moved quicker than he should’ve been able to with his injured body. He darted to Gordon’s car and retrieved the machete that he’d put down when he’d gotten his brother out of the trunk. Then he raced back to where the lead vampire was still trying to get his paralyzed body to respond to him and raised the blade up high.

“You lose, douche-bag. Enjoy your never ending vacation in Purgatory.” Then he chopped said-douche-bag’s head off. Well, he tried in any case. But his shoulder was screaming in agony, he was exhausted, the blade wasn’t as sharp as it had been after cutting through multiple flesh and neck bones, and this vampire’s neck was incredibly thick. So the blade cut in about a quarter of the way and got stuck. Blood flew out and Dean grunted as he yanked his weapon free. Then he tried again. And again. It took five blows for him to hack the damned creature’s head off and when he finally did, the boy fell to his knees alongside the remains. Dean’s head was spinning and he felt like he was about to pass out.

“D… Dean?”

Oh, crap. Sammy. Sammy had seen the whole thing. Dean turned his head to see his brother sitting quite a few feet away, clutching at his left leg with tears running down his face. The older boy struggled to his feet and made his way over to his brother.

“Sammy, are you alright?”

“I hurted my knee and my ankle, Dean.” But he wasn’t even looking at Dean. His large, too wide eyes were staring at the decapitated mess lying behind the young hunter.

“Don’t look at that, Sammy.” Dean instructed, gently taking the little boy’s head in his hands and turning it to face him. “It… it was…”

“A vampire.” Sammy whispered. “Gordon told me.”

Damn Gordon. Not that Dean could’ve really kept the truth a secret at this point anyway. “Yeah. But you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“You killed it. You saved me.”

Dean forced a smile to his face. “’Course I did, Sammy. I’ll always save you.”

Sammy threw his little arms around him and hugged Dean tight. Dean grunted in pain and the younger boy let him go.

“Oh! Oh, did that hurt? I’m sorry, Dean. You’re bleeding badder than me. You need a lot of band-aids on that.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I guess I do.” Then he gently pushed Sammy away from him far enough that he could look the little boy over. His little brother’s eyes were too wide and filled with fear, but Sammy was smiling a little and seemed comforted by Dean’s mere presence. Dean knew that the full effects of these events had yet to settle in but he’d be there for the smaller boy and could help him through it. Physically, Sammy was in damn good shape for a five year old that had just been through hell. He had a bruise on his face from that son of a bitch Gordon, a scratched-up knee, and was saying his ankle was sore. The boy was also probably a bit dehydrated and hungry and looked about as exhausted as Dean felt. But it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed. First though, they’d need to get home. “We have to get moving, Sammy. We still need to get to a phone.”

“But Dean, my leg hurts too bad to walk. I don’t wanna get up.”

Dean shifted back and lifted the small ankle up into his lap. He carefully pushed the pant leg up to get a look. There was a very tiny bit of swelling but nothing too bad. Probably a sprain. “C’mon Sammy, I’ll help you.” 

Biting back a groan of pain, Dean got to his knees and wrapped his good right arm around his little brother. Standing on the smaller boy’s left side, he pulled Sammy to his feet. Dean almost stumbled himself, but held it together and managed to help his brother limp down the street. His still bleeding shoulder was screaming in agony, but he knew that he had to get them to safety. Gordon was dead and so was the vamp, but if he passed out from blood loss, that would leave Sammy alone and injured for anyone out here to pick up. Not a great situation. 

The boys stumbled down the street together, sticking to the sidewalks, close to hedges and any shadows Dean could find. There weren’t any houses down this way, but the older brother wasn’t taking any chances of them being seen and the police being called. Once Cas was here and the victims were out of that house, the place and all the headless corpses in it would be torched. His fingerprints were everywhere in there and he wasn’t risking getting in trouble for murder this early in his life. 

Once they turned the corner up at the end of the long road and entered a nicer looking portion of the neighborhood, Dean began looking around for a good house to knock on the door of. He finally chose one that still had their lights on. There were two cars in the driveway indicating the likelihood of more than one resident, hopefully a married couple that would be sympathetic to two injured children. The brothers approached the door and Dean rang the bell.

A woman opened the door and looked down at Dean with a gasp. “Oh my god! What… what happened to you? I’ll call 911.”

“No,” Dean shook his head. “Please ma’am, can… can we just come in and use your phone. We don’t live too far away and our parents can take us to the hospital. I just need to call them. Please.” Then under his breath, he whispered “Christo” just to be sure. 

“Are you sure? It looks bad.” The woman seemed slightly panicked.

“Honey? What’s going on? Who’s at the door? Is it… holy crap!” A guy exclaimed as he walked up behind the woman.

“These boys need a phone to call their parents and get to the hospital.”

“Of course. Uh, should we just call an ambulance? Their parents can meet them there.”

“No, thank you, sir.” Dean replied. Then he quietly repeated his demon check. Still clean. “My parents… uh, lost someone in a similar way. I can’t talk about it around my little brother but if they got a call like that, they’d panic for sure. Better they get a call from me and drive us there themselves.”

“What happened?” The man asked as they stepped aside to let the boys in. 

“Dog attacked us.” Dean responded, pleased that Sammy was letting him do all the talking. “Bit me, and my brother hurt his ankle when I pushed him away from it. But we got away. Don’t know where it is now.”

The woman covered her mouth with her hand and gasped. “Oh you poor boys! Come sit down in the living room. The phone’s in there anyways.”

Dean helped Sammy limp into the well-furnished room. There was a large picture window looking out into the front yard, and a pretty expensive looking chandelier. A couch, loveseat, armchair, coffee table, and two end tables completed the room. And on one of the end tables sat a telephone. Dean let out a sigh of relief and headed over to it.

“Here Sammy, sit down and I’ll call Dad and Mom, okay?”

Sammy nodded. “’Kay, Dean.”

The older brother was just about to place Sammy on the couch when he heard the man behind him clear his throat.

“Change of plans, Dean.”

Dean froze. The tone was wrong, not at all the same as it had been just seconds ago. But he didn’t let it show that he’d caught on as he responded without looking. “I already told you that it’s not necessary to call an ambulance.” 

He tightened his grip on Sammy and started moving away from the couch. Dean glanced over and saw that the couple was blocking the doorway they’d just entered the room through. That was the only way in or out of the living room. They were trapped. 

“No one’s calling any ambulances. Besides, I doubt that paramedics can do too much for little boys after their insides are on their outsides.” The man commented casually. 

Then both the man and woman smirked at the brothers as their eyes turned black.

Sammy screamed in terror and Dean wrapped his arms around him protectively. 

“Back off, you black-eyed sons of bitches! I’ll kill you both!”

“Tough words, Winchester.” The man snarled. “But how exactly are you going to do that when you’re wounded and weaponless?”

Dean cursed himself for not bringing the machete with him. Of course, it would’ve been hard to explain to a nice couple when he was trying to get help, but it would be extremely helpful right now. 

“Then I’ll just have to kill you with my bare hands.” Dean put on his most dangerous expression.

But the demon possessed couple took a step closer. Dean looked around the room and got an idea. It would be painful, but it would work. The older brother wrapped his arms around Sammy and dragged him backwards away from the evil bastards.

“Just give up, Dean.” The woman demanded. “And we’ll kill your brother quickly before we drag you off to Alastair.”

“How’d you even know where I was?” Dean asked, a combination of curiosity and distraction tactics. 

“ _She’s_ been keeping a close eye on you.” The woman replied. “And got a bit of help this time.”

“Right, ‘cause that’s not a cryptic-ass answer.” Dean mumbled. 

“Oh you’ll find out everything soon enough.” The man said.

“I think not.” Dean shot back.

He hugged Sammy, who was crying in fear, tightly to himself, burying the little boy’s face in his own chest. Then Dean threw himself sideways through the large picture window and tumbled out into the front lawn. 

He hit the ground hard, his body still wrapped around the smaller body. Dean hoped that Sammy hadn’t gotten badly cut by the glass but it had been the only escape he’d seen. The young hunter used his feet to push them away from the sharp debris of the broken window before he let go of his brother. 

Dean looked over to see the couple climbing out from the broken window. He was about to order Sammy to run, figuring that his brother would be safer out on his own in the dark than with the demons, when he turned his head and saw a pair of feet step just inches from his face.


	82. Demons, Angels, and Brothers

Chapter Eighty-Two: Demons, Angels, and Brothers 

Castiel blamed Dean for his learned habit of pacing. And he certainly blamed his young friend for the fact that he was exercising that habit now for the past several hours, waiting for some word from the hunter that it was okay to go and get him. The angel had been sorely tempted to teleport there and keep an eye on him as soon as Dean had popped up again on his radar, but he’d held back. Gordon Walker had somehow hidden Dean from Castiel and if he’d accomplished that, then there was always the slightest possibility that the angel could be detected even in what Dean referred to as ‘stealth mode’. So instead, he’d paced and kept his senses firmly fixed on his friend, trying to make certain that the boy would be okay. Castiel sensed his distress and later his pain. And then when he felt the boy in extreme agony and close to passing out, he almost transported himself to Dean instantly, consequences be damned. But then he felt Dean’s relief. Yet, he could still not sense Sam, so he kept himself at the Winchesters’ house with the boys’ worried parents.

But that all changed when he sensed the demonic presence near Dean. That altered everything. Walker had taken Dean to hunt vampires, not demons. Them being there was not a good sign and could spell disaster. So, without a word to the Winchesters, Castiel stopped his pacing, concentrated on Dean’s location and appeared next to his friend.

He found himself on a well-manicured lawn of a modest looking home in a rather nice neighborhood. And lying at his feet was the beaten and bloody body of Dean Winchester clutching his little brother. But while Castiel could see the youngest member of the family he protected, he still could not sense the boy. He had no chance to think about that however, because two demon possessed humans were climbing from a broken window and approaching the injured children. 

“Cas?” Dean was moving, as if to try and struggle to his feet. 

The angel looked down at him and shook his head. “Stay down, Dean. I have this one.”

The small hunter nodded and slumped back down, holding Sam tightly against himself. Castiel saw that he was fighting to even stay conscious.

The angel turned his full attention to the demons that were now about halfway across the space that divided the Winchester boys from the house. In one fast and smooth motion, Castiel pulled his angel blade from his trench coat and held it out in front of him. He would typically never use it in a battle against demons for fear of word getting back to Hell and his true identity being exposed, but these two weren’t going to live long enough to be telling anyone what kind of weapon he’d used. Castiel was tempted to end them right then, but he could sense that the host bodies were still alive and would sacrifice them only if there was no other choice. Luckily, it seemed that it would not come to that.

Upon seeing the weapon that could easily end them, the demons looked at each other and then the mouths of the human couple opened and twin columns of black smoke whirl-winded out and started to rise. But before the demon-smoke had completely left their current hosts, Castiel stepped forwards and plunged his sword into their essences. He watched the lightening spark and jumped out of them as the smoky forms writhed and twisted. The angel heard the unholy screeching echoing out all around him and then nothing as the blackness simply dissipated into nothing. It was over. The demons were dead.

Castiel turned back around to see that both Dean and Sam were watching him. Dean looked relieved while his younger brother looked terrified. The angel approached them and crouched down by their sides.

“You’re safe now. But we should get out of here.”

Dean nodded. “But before we go home, there’s something we gotta take care of around the corner.”

Castiel looked to where the boy was pointing and nodded. He decided not to question Dean until they were away from the yard. 

Once they materialized, Castiel looked around and saw that they were only a few yards away from Gordon Walker’s car and an older looking house. He was about to ask Dean what business they had to take care of there, wanting to finish it up quickly and get the brothers home, when Sam spoke up quietly.

“Dean… uh, what were they?”

“What?”

“The… the black-eyed, smokey people. What were they? They were monsters but not vampires.”

Dean sighed. “Sammy…”

“Dean, they tried to kill us!” The boy practically screamed, tears streaming down his face. “I’m scared, Dean. There are real monsters and you know about them and can fight them and you protected me and I wanna know what they are so that maybe I can be brave like you.”

Dean shook his head. “Sammy, no. I know about these things so I can protect you. That’s what big brothers do. You don’t need to know.”

“But I saw it. I _do_ know, Dean.”

Castiel felt bad for both brothers but he didn’t interfere. It wasn’t his place to tell Sam the truth or to tell Dean what to do.

“They were demons.”

Sam made a face. “What’re those? Like on Halloween, the devil-creature thingies?”

Dean laughed despite everything. “Yeah, kinda like that.”

“Oh. They were scary.”

“But we beat ‘em, Sammy. The good guys always win.”

Sam nodded. But then he turned and looked at Castiel. “What are you? ‘Cause we’re told to tell people you’re our uncle, but you’re not. And you can do stuff no one else can and we can’t talk about it. And now you killed those… those demons. And you talk weird. So, are you something scary too?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side. “Have you ever been scared of me?”

“No.”

“Would Dean let me near you if I were something bad?”

“No.” Sam seemed to relax, but then he made a face again. “But you didn’t answer me. What are you?”

“I am an angel of the Lord.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” There was a brief pause and then Sam turned to Dean. “Dean, are you an angel too? ‘Cause you saved me a lot.”

“Nope, just your awesome brother.” Dean said with a smirk.

Sam looked between them. Castiel could see him trying to put together everything that had happened. But it would have to wait.

“Dean, there’s something wrong. I can sense you, but I still cannot sense Sam. When you got in the car I lost track of you but later I once again felt your presence. But even though I now see Sam, I still cannot sense him.”

“What? But why?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean looked around. “There was a symbol in the car. An enochian symbol similar to the one you used way back when to hide us from the demons and angels. I don’t know how or why Gordon had one, but I’m guessing that’s why you couldn’t find us. As for now… Sammy, did Gordon do anything to you or give you anything?”

The little boy bit his lip, deep in thought. “Uh… no, but I think he put a piece of paper in my pocket yesterday.” Sam reached in and pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Dean.

Instantly, Castiel could again sense Sam, but now lost his connection with the elder brother. The angel reached out his hand and took the paper from Dean. His hands felt almost numb as he opened it. Whatever it was, it was strong. Once the sheet of paper was completely opened, Castiel could see two symbols drawn on it. The first was exactly as Dean had described and was the source of the tingling numbness he now felt running up both of his arms. The other was a demonic symbol. And, if Castiel was not mistaken, its purpose was to act like a homing beacon to any demons in the area, drawing them in to this position. Castiel turned the paper over to see some writing on the back. _Gordon, If you insist on going after the Winchester, then these will protect you from any demonic interference, since it is said that the boy is a magnet for them. –A friend._ Castiel tore the paper in half, destroying both of the symbols and their power. Gordon had been fooled. The man had had a reputation as a decent vampire hunter, but apparently had known little to nothing about symbols and one of the Winchesters’ enemies had taken advantage of that situation. 

But who had done it? How had they known to use the symbol to hide the brothers from Castiel? Or were the demons hiding them from angelic protection in general? Castiel was contemplating these questions when he noticed that Dean was losing his battle to remain conscious. If the small hunter went out now, then the angel would have no clue as to what he’d wanted to accomplish by bringing them to this spot.

“Dean, why are we here?”

“Victims in the attic. Need help. Then the place needs to be torched.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Castiel promised. “But first let me send you both home.”

When he didn’t get an answer, the angel realized that his young friend had finally succumbed to his injuries and exhaustion. 

“Dean!” Sam cried out.

“He’ll be alright.” Castiel reassured. “Your parents will take care of him.”

The little boy nodded, but kept crying and clutching at his older brother. The angel touched both children and sent them back to the Winchesters’ home. Then he turned his attention to fulfilling Dean’s request.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sammy didn’t think he was ever going to be able to stop crying. He was either going to cry from fear or pain or sadness for the rest of his life. Especially if Cas was wrong and Dean died. If that happened, then Sammy would just lock himself up in his bedroom and never come out again. ‘Cause the world was a scary place and Dean kept it safe and happy and without Dean, well… without Dean, Sammy just didn’t want to ever go out in the world again. 

“Sammy! Dean!”

The little boy looked up to see Daddy and Mommy standing over both him and Dean. They were home. Castiel had sent them back. Sammy wanted to be happy about it, but he was just too scared and sad to be happy. So he just lowered his head and went back to hugging his sleeping brother. Well, he tried to, but then Daddy pulled him away.

“No! Dean! Daddy, no! I need to be with Dean! He saved me and now he needs me or he’s gonna die and I can’t let him die! Dean!” Sammy wailed.

“He’s not going to die, Sammy. Dean’ll be alright, but you need to let me take a look at him, okay? I need to fix him up.”

“Dean!” Sammy yelled, still reaching out to his brother. As long as he was with Dean, he was safe. If they were separated though… “Daddy please, I need Dean!” Sammy choked out between sobs. “He’ll keep me safe from the vampires and demons and stuff and I need him. Please!”

Sammy felt his daddy hand him over to his mommy but he’d lost the strength to fight and just slumped into her lap and cried.

“Sweetie, what… what are you talking about?”

“Dean got me out of the trunk and I… I saw the vampire and it tried to hurt me but Dean saved me and it hurted him instead but he killed it and then we ran but then the people became demons and Dean jumped though the window with me and saved me again. And Cas made the smoke go away with his sword ‘cause he’s an angel.”

There was a long pause and Sammy lifted his head to see if his mommy had heard him. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry you had to go through all that!”

“My knee got scraped and my ankle hurts and I’m hungry.” Sammy told her. “But I’m also scared ‘cause what if the monsters get me if Dean dies.”

“Dean’s not going to die.” Mommy insisted. “And while he gets better, Daddy and I will keep you safe.”

Sammy shook his head. “I need Dean. I love you and Daddy but I need Dean.” Then he collapsed into tears all over again.


	83. Goodnight

Chapter Eighty-Three: Goodnight 

Dean was sleeping comfortably on the couch, his head resting on Castiel’s lap with the angel’s hand on his forehead, assuring that the boy would have no Hell-memory induced nightmares. John tried not to notice the red-stained bandages on his son’s left shoulder or the IV that was running into his arm, pumping blood back into his small, pale body. The father had been relieved when Cas had returned and had brought the bags from the blood bank with him, since Dean’s blood pressure had dropped to very low levels as John had worked to stitch up the wound. But now the boy’s vitals were steadily improving and he was resting comfortably. 

John really wanted to know what the hell had happened out there. And then he wanted, no _needed_ , to go and kill Gordon Walker for his role in it. But that would have to wait. Dean needed his rest, Cas needed to be in the dream world with Dean to keep the Hell memories away, and there was no way that John would interrogate Sammy. The small boy hadn’t said a single word since his earlier outburst, and was now huddled up next to the couch, clutching Dean’s hand and staring at his sleeping brother. Both Mary and himself had tried to talk with and calm their youngest child, but Sammy had merely hugged them and then turned his attention back to Dean. John understood why Sammy would be hero-worshipping his older brother (hell, since Dean had come back to this time five years ago all he’d done is save all their lives over and over again) but still, the rejection for comfort stung a bit.

“Sammy,” John started gently. “You should try to get some sleep.”

“I wanna stay with Dean.”

“He needs his sleep too.”

“But he promised I could sleep with him tonight.”

John sighed. Of course Dean would. “Well, maybe we can figure out a way to make it work, but only if you go and get your teeth brushed.”

Sammy seemed to think about it for a moment. He hadn’t left Dean’s side for a single moment except for when Mary had taken him off to get him cleaned up and dressed in his pajamas. She’d put a band-aid on his scraped knee and wrapped up his ankle. By the time she’d brought him back, most of Dean’s stitches had been in place and Sammy had resumed his post. 

“Okay.” Sammy finally agreed. 

John watched as the little boy got up. He stood as well and picked up his son. Then he carried his child upstairs and placed him on the closed toilet and got his toothbrush ready. When Sammy was all done, John lifted the small boy back up. Part of him was hoping that the kid would just fall asleep so that he could tuck him into bed. But it seemed that luck was just never to be on the Winchesters’ side. 

When he got back downstairs, John saw that Mary was still on the phone. She’d called up Bobby to let him know that the boys were back and was now talking with Ellen to see if she had any information about what Gordon had been up to recently. As far as they knew, the asshole had not made an appearance back at the Roadhouse since that incident all those years ago, but the Harvelles were well connected in the hunters’ circles and knew all the gossip. 

“Anything?” John whispered, standing near her, still holding Sammy.

His wife shook her head. “We’ll talk later.” She looked pointedly at the little boy in John’s arms.

Not like it wasn’t a bit late to be shielding him from this kind of stuff. John sighed. How in the world had this happened? They had been so careful with Sammy and now…

“Daddy… can I go back to Dean now?”

“Sure. But be careful where you lay on him, okay? He’s hurt.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

John carried Sammy over and carefully laid him down on the inside of the couch, next to Dean, avoiding the older boy’s wounded shoulder. Sammy snuggled into his brother’s side and then looked up.

“We… we’re safe here, right?”

John nodded. “Very safe, Sammy. And your mommy and I will watch over you boys.”

Sammy nodded. “You guys fight the monsters too, like Dean, right?”

John really wished that Sammy didn’t need to know this stuff but he had to answer. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” The boy yawned and used the arm not hugging Dean to rub at his eyes. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, Sammy. Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

John stood there until he was certain that Sammy had fallen asleep. Sleeping sounded like a very good idea, especially since neither him nor Mary had slept much the previous night as they had been so worried about their missing children, but he wasn’t quite ready to call it a night. There were still things that needed to be discussed with his wife. 

So John busied himself cleaning up the bloody clothing and towels and all the first aid supplies. By the time that the living room was once again presentable looking, Mary was hanging up the phone. 

“So?” John asked.

Mary sighed. “Well, Gordon hasn’t been back to their bar at all in the past few years, but some of his associates have. Although it appears that not very many people are willing to work with Gordon more than once. He seems to have a knack for putting his crusade before the safety of his partners and those that survive are generally not too pleased with him. Anyway, neither Bill or Ellen had heard anything about him recently but after I told her what went down, she put pressure on some of the customers that were hanging around and got a little info. All she knows is that he was apparently asking around about Dean and what kind of trouble he was in.”

“Trouble?” John asked.

“Yeah. Word has gotten around in the hunting community that there is a young boy hunting because demons are after him. Luckily, most hunters only seem to know his first name.”

“You don’t think Gordon spread more information around, do you?”

Mary shook her head. “Doubtful. Knowledge is power, and all that. He wouldn’t just give out info unless it was for his own gain. But it seems that he wanted to make sure that if he picked up Dean that he’d be protected from the demons that were after him.”

“Well, since Sammy mentioned them being attacked by demons, I guess he screwed that up.” John growled. Yeah, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on Gordon. 

“From what Ellen knows, it looks like there was very little that the other hunters would’ve been able to help him with.”

“I don’t buy that.” John shook his head. “I mean, we gotta be missing something. He must’ve known something because he had some kind of protection that not even Cas could get through.”

Mary sighed. “Maybe Castiel could answer these questions tomorrow.”

“Maybe.”

Mary wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, resting her head on his shoulder. Her breath ghosted over his neck as she spoke. “John, the boys are home, there’s nothing more for us to do tonight, and we’re both tired. I think it’s time to go to bed.”

He kissed her head. “You’re right, sweetheart.”

“I always am.”

He laughed. “Don’t push it.”

But when she tilted her head up to look at him, he captured her lips with his own and kissed her deeply. Pulling away, they both smiled. 

“So, ready to go upstairs and save the worrying for tomorrow?”

John nodded. “Lead the way.”

With one last glance at his sleeping sons, the tired father followed his wife up the stairs and to their bedroom. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sammy was running from a big, mean vampire that had black eyes and was trying to eat him. He was very scared and every time he tried to escape, Gordon would drive a car right in front of him blocking his way. The little boy started to cry. He was going to die, he just knew it. 

“Dean!” He called out.

But then he turned around and saw his brother lying on the ground and there was just so much blood around him that he knew that Dean was dead already. Sammy ran to him and dropped down to his knees. He grabbed his brother and sobbed. Then he heard laughing and when he looked up he realized that he was surrounded by black-eyed vampires. And they all looked like Gordon. Sammy was caught in between wanting to scream in fear or continue to cry.

Just then, he heard a familiar rustling sound and looked up to see Cas standing next to him.

“Cas, help me. Please.” Sammy begged. And then he thought for a moment. “And… and if you’re an angel, maybe… maybe you can bring Dean back?”

“Dean is not dead.” Cas informed him. “You are dreaming. Take my hand, Sam. Come with me.”

Sammy looked up at the hand that Cas held out to him. Dreaming? Really? If that was true and Dean wasn’t dead… Sammy reached up and took Cas’ hand.

Suddenly, the little boy found himself someplace completely different. He blinked in surprise and let out a gasp. He was now in a small diner that smelled really great and there were no vampires anywhere. But Dean was gone. Cas was standing next to him and the only other people in the entire place were a waitress and a guy sitting at a booth. The guy looked kinda familiar, like Sammy should know him, but the boy was certain that he’d never seen the man before. His hair was spiky, like Dean’s, and his eyes were the same color too. The guy wore jeans, a black t-shirt, a blue flannel shirt, and a leather jacket. Sammy felt drawn to the man, but didn’t move, still too frightened by all that had happened. 

“Sammy.” The man greeted.

“How do you know my name?” Sammy asked. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“You’re safe now.” Cas answered.

Sammy turned to look up at the angel. “But am I still dreaming?”

“Yes, but this is no longer your dream. I brought you into Dean’s dream to keep you safe from your nightmares. He asked me to keep an eye on you and when I sensed your distress, I brought you here.”

Sammy was confused. “Dean’s dream? But… but then where is Dean?”

“Right here, Sammy.” Dean’s voice called out.

Sammy turned and saw that the man was gone and Dean was standing near the booth instead. “Dean!” He ran over and hugged his big brother. “Dean, you’re alright!” 

“’Course I am.”

“I saw that the vampires had killed you.”

“It was just a nightmare, Sammy.”

The little boy nodded. Then he released his brother and stepped back. “Who was that other guy that was here, Dean?”

Dean gave a strange smile. “Don’t worry about him, Sammy. You’ll get to meet him for real when you’re older.”

“Oh, okay. But he’s one of the good guys, right?”

“The best.” Dean responded with a laugh.

Sammy wasn’t sure what was so funny, but he was just happy to be away from the monsters and to be safe with Dean again.

“So, are we gonna eat here?”

“We can.” Dean shrugged. “But I’ll tell you what; since you’re a guest here in my dream, you can pick what we do tonight. Anywhere you wanna go, or anything you wanna do. You name it, that’s what we’ll do. Okay?”

Sammy grinned. “Okay!”


	84. Questions Answered

Chapter Eighty-Four: Questions Answered 

“Lilith.” Dean announced, handing the two pieces of the note back to Cas.

Cas cocked his head to the side. “How can you be certain?”

Dean sighed. He looked over at his parents, who were staring at him, waiting for an answer as well. It was still pretty early in the morning, but they had all decided that it was best to start figuring things out sooner rather than later. When the young hunter had woken, he’d overheard his parents discussing their concerns that someone had set Gordon up and Dean had been quick to join in on the conversation. He’d yet to give his dad or mom details about what had happened the last two days however, so now it was time to start connecting the dots. “Sammy and I got jumped by a couple of demons when we were trying to get to a phone to call for a ride home. When I asked how they knew where we were, I was told that _she_ was keeping a close eye on me. The way it was said, I know the demon chick was referring to someone important.”

“Lilith is not the only important demon that could be responsible, Dean.” Cas informed him. “More so, at this point, she would not even be free to walk this planet. Not for many more years.”

“I know.” Dean replied. “But that was then, Cas. Things have changed. _We_ changed things. Is there anyway she could’ve gotten free early?”

Cas shook his head. “Not without going through the same series of events, which we know didn’t happen. Unless someone powerful let her out. And it would have to be someone with more power than Lilith herself.”

“Who exactly is Lilith?” Dean’s mom asked.

“Badass bitch demon.” Dean replied.

A slight snicker brought Dean’s attention down to his little brother who was lying besides him. “You said a bad word, Dean.”

Dean tried to hide his smirk. “And you were supposed to be sleeping, Sammy.”

“I gotta pee.”

“Then go pee, shrimp.”

“’Kay.” 

Dean let out a small groan as his little brother crawled over him to get off the couch. Once Sammy was standing on the floor, the small boy gave him a kiss on his cheek and then limped off across the room. Dean’s shoulder was screaming in agony and despite the fact that he saw the empty bag from a blood transfusion, he still felt pretty weak. But even so, he struggled into a half sitting position and turned his attention back to his parents. 

“She’s bad news. Really powerful, like Lucifer’s right hand bitch powerful.”

“And why are you certain that this note is from her?” His dad asked.

“’Cause I’ve spent the past few years of my life going to school.” Dean answered. At their blank looks, he continued. “The handwriting on this note is not from a grown-up. It’s… well, look at it. The letters are all curvy and just… it looks like the notes I see the girls pass back and forth all day.”

His dad smirked. “Aren’t you supposed to be paying attention to the teachers?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Have I mentioned how boring the lessons are? Besides, it’s hard not to notice what the girls are doing with their annoying high pitched giggles. Anyway, this note was definitely written by a young girl. And I know for a fact that Lilith favors young female hosts.”

There was a moment where it seemed that everyone was contemplating what Dean had told them.

“So the demons talked about a ‘she’ and now there’s a note that misled Gordon, written by a young female. And you think that this means a powerful demon is in the picture?” His mom asked.

Dean nodded. “What other reason would a young chick have to give Gordon a note that would block Cas from rescuing us and lead the demons straight to me, other than if the girl was possessed?”

“Well, when I find Gordon, I’ll make sure to pound any information on who gave him the note out of him.” Dean’s dad growled out.

“Uh… there’s one flaw in that plan.” Dean mumbled.

“What?”

“Dead men tell no tales. Well, you know, not the really dead ones like Gordon.”

“He’s dead?” His mom questioned.

Dean looked up at them and knew that the expression on his face hid nothing. “He took Sammy and kept him locked in the trunk of his goddamn car for almost two days. He was too dangerous to be allowed to live. So Gordon had an ‘unfortunate accident’ that led to his death.” Dean let the statement sit there for a moment before adding. “It needed to be done.”

“I could’ve taken care of it.” His dad insisted.

Dean shook his head. “No. While I’m sure that everyone in this room wanted a piece of Gordon, it went down the way that it had to. But back to the point. Lilith wouldn’t have hand delivered the message herself anyways. Gordon wouldn’t have known a damned thing”

“Dean,” Cas spoke up. “If this is all true, and the demons said that she is watching you…”

“Then she’s probably close by.” Dean finished the thought. “Maybe even in my school.”

“How could you not have sensed a powerful demon so close to our son?” Dean’s dad demanded of Cas.

“Lilith is powerful and cunning enough to know how to disguise her presence.” Cas responded. “I would be able to sense her if I were to reach out and feel the essence of every one of Dean’s classmates, but then she would know that I was there as well.”

“If she’s drawing angel protection symbols, it seems she already knows about you somehow.” Dean’s mom pointed out.

“That’s the worst case scenario.” Dean cut in. “It’s possible that she just didn’t want angels interfering with her plans.”

“Doubtful.” Cas shot him down. “The angels would not be likely to save you from the demons as they have not shown an interest in interceding on your behalf before now. But even if Lilith knows about me, we should not let her know that we are on to her by having me actively search for her. Having her observe Dean is one thing, but if she feels cornered and decides to attack…”

“Yeah, that would suck.” Dean agreed.

“What would suck?” Sammy asked, reentering the room.

“Sammy, we do not use that word.” His mom scolded.

“Dean did!”

“Well, Dean shouldn’t.”

Dean tried his best not to laugh. “Sorry, Mom.”

Sammy climbed back up on the couch and looked around at everyone. Then he bit his lip for a moment before speaking. “Are all monsters real?”

“Nope.” Dean replied. 

“Which ones are?”

“Sammy, you don’t need to know any of this.” His dad replied.

The little boy’s eyes narrowed and Dean was reminded of the adult version of his brother. “Why not? All of you do!”

“Exactly. And we’ll protect you.” The eldest Winchester promised.

Sammy shook his head. “I need to know. I’m scared, Daddy.”

“And knowing won’t help.”

“I’m not scared to know. I know about vampires and demons. And I know that there are probably other stuff too.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, there are. But for every bad thing out there, there’s a way to get rid of it. And Dad, Mom, Cas and me, we know all of them. So you don’t ever have to worry.”

“Are ghosts real?”

Man, Sammy was like a dog with a bone. “Yep. But we can get rid of them real easy. And they can’t get in our house.” Dean heard his father clear his throat unhappily, but he ignored it. Dad could get pissed all he wanted, but Sammy needed peace of mind right now. 

The smaller boy nodded. “Bigfoot?”

“Nope.”

“Witches?”

“Yeah, but there’s none around here.”

“Frankenstein?”

“That was just a movie.”

“Zombies?”

“Yeah, but they’re slow and stupid.”

Sammy was smiling, seeming to be relieved by Dean’s answers. “Aliens?”

“No way.”

“Mummies?” 

“Only in Egypt.”

“The boogie man?”

Dean laughed. “Who told you about that?”

“My friend at school.”

“Well, your friend at school is a dork.”

Sammy made a face. “But you really can get rid of any monster in the world?”

Dean saw the trust in Sammy’s eyes. “You bet. We’ve been doing this for a while, Sammy. You’re safe with us.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“’Cause we didn’t want you to be scared. I know monsters can be scary and we thought that if you didn’t know that they were real that you wouldn’t be as scared.”

Sammy nodded. “I am scared of them now. But… but I know that you’ll keep me safe.”

“’Course we will.” Dean put his arm around his little brother.

“If you’re done,” Their dad interrupted. “We should probably have some breakfast.”

“I’ll get something fixed up.” Their mom offered.

“Cereal’s fine, Mom.” Dean insisted. 

“I was thinking pancakes, eggs, and bacon. You boys must be starving after all you’ve been through.” She walked over and kissed them both on the head. “You want to help cook, Sammy?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed.

Dean smiled. Sammy loved being allowed to mix the pancake batter. His mom lifted the small boy up. “And _you_ ,” She looked down at Dean. “Stay put. I already called you both out of school for the day and you are spending the whole day resting up. Understood?”

“Got it.”

“Will you be okay without me, Dean?” Sammy asked.

“I’ll manage somehow.” Dean replied. 

“I love you, Dean. Be right back.” The smallest Winchester blew his big brother a kiss as he was carried out of the room.

“Dean…”

Dean cut his father off before he could get any further. “I know you didn’t want me to answer Sammy’s questions, Dad. But he already saw enough to be scared. Now he needs to hear enough to feel better.”

“I was ready to chew you out for telling him all that…”

“Could you _not_ mention chewing.” Dean muttered, rubbing at the bite marks on his shoulder.

“… but then I saw how much it made you brother relax. You knew all the right answers to give.”

Dean looked at his dad with raised eyebrows. Even after these past few years, this man could still surprise him. “It’s far from over, Dad. And he’s gonna need all of our support.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, how are you holding up?”

Dean sighed. “Rough couple of days, but I’ll be fine.”

His dad nodded slowly. “Uh huh… you know, I remember a little boy saying similar things while hiding the fact that he was having hallucinations of Hell.”

“I swear I’m not in that bad shape. Just a bit concerned about Sammy. And thinking about what this whole Lilith thing could mean.”

“It means we have to be careful. And you need to watch out while you’re at school, just in case.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I just wonder how long she’s been watching me and what exactly she knows.”

“Don’t let your curiosity get the best of you, Dean. We need to stay safe.”

“I know.”

“Good. Make sure you remember it.” His dad ruffled his hair and then turned to leave the room. “I’ll bring you your breakfast and you can eat it in here, okay buddy?”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Once his father was out of earshot, Dean looked up at Cas. “I think it’s time we reached out and got some allies. The demons obviously have some info and it’s only a matter of time before they decide to make their move.”

Cas seemed to think. “We have no allies, Dean.”

“You know, what we talked about a while ago?”

“It’s risky. And we don’t have any leads.”

“But I know what to look for. And I think the risks are worth the rewards.”

Cas sighed. “If you are sure.”

“I have to think about protecting my family, Cas. And we may need help to do it.”


	85. Back to School

Chapter Eighty-Five: Back to School 

“But I don’t wanna go to school.” Sammy whined, hoping that his parents would change their minds. He had enjoyed the day at home yesterday and the idea of going back to the place that Gordon had grabbed him from filled him with fear. Besides, Dean, Daddy, and Mommy had told him that their home was safe from all monsters but the school probably wasn’t. And he’d heard them talking about a bad demon in Dean’s school. So what if there was something bad waiting for him in his classroom?

“Sammy, you have to go back.” Mommy told him. “You’ve missed too many days already.”

“But I already know the stuff Mrs. Bradley teaches. I can stay at home and work on my writing with Dean.”

“Dean needs to go back too.”

Sammy shook his head. “No he doesn’t! He’s really smart. I’ve heard you say that before. Dean doesn’t need school. Besides, there’s a demon in his school.”

Mommy sighed. “Sammy, even if there is someone bad at Dean’s school, I promise that they are not going to hurt him. And Castiel will be with him.”

“Cas is also gonna be keeping an eye on you.” Dean added. “Like when you’re sleeping. He’ll be with me, but watching over you too. We’ll both be safe.”

“And, I’m going to talk with the school and tell them that no one other than myself, your father, Castiel, or Bobby can pick you up from school. So there won’t be any more problems.”

Sammy nodded. He knew the story he was supposed to tell. Gordon was mean to Sammy when he was going too slowly up the hospital stairs while they were going to see Dean and pulled on his arm, causing him to fall and hurt his ankle. Dean was in the hospital because a dog had attacked him and bit his shoulder. And Sammy couldn’t tell anyone that monsters were real, or that he’d been kidnapped, or that Cas was an angel, or that his brother was a hero.

“Okay, I’ll go. But I still don’t like it.”

“Dude, it sucks, I know.” Dean commented. “But if you ever wanna learn more cool stuff and make those awesome projects you like so much, you gotta go back.”

Sammy nodded reluctantly. Dean was right. Dean was always right. “Okay, Dean.”

“Let’s get in the car then. Mom’s dropping us off today so she can talk to your school.” Dean grabbed his bag, and Sammy saw him make a face as his shoulder must’ve hurt him.

“Are you okay, Dean? Maybe you should stay home.”

“Nah, I’m fine, Sammy.”

The little boy nodded. He was still a bit concerned about his big brother, and the idea of spending the day away from him was scary, but if Dean said it was fine, then it would be fine. 

The car ride was not nearly long enough and they dropped Dean off first before heading into the school. Mommy walked him into his classroom, kissed his cheek, and then left. Sammy limped over to his chair and dropped his bag down next to him. The teacher was by his side within seconds.

“Sammy, what’s wrong. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I fell on the stairs at the hospital when I was visiting Dean. But the doctors said it was just a sprain and they wrapped it up. It still hurts a bit though.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. If you need any help, let me know. And how’s Dean?”

“Better. He got bit by a dog on his shoulder but he’s back in school today too.”

“I’m glad to hear that he’s getting better. But maybe our class can make him a ‘get well’ card today, what do you think?”

“Yeah!” Sammy exclaimed. “That would be awesome!”

Mrs. Bradley smiled. “Great. Then we’ll do that right after morning announcements.”

Sammy grinned back at her. Maybe being back at school wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t be too long before he’d be going back home with his big brother, and he’d have a present for him too. And with Cas watching over them both, nothing bad would happen. School was going to be just as much fun as it was before.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Yep, school still sucked just as much as it ever did. Except now, Dean knew that there was quite possibly a powerful demon watching his every move. And he’d have to act like he was none the wiser. Yeah, this was gonna be fun. Oh, and his shoulder hurt like a bitch.

Dean groaned as he dropped down into his seat. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but he was still feeling pretty damned weak and really would rather have taken another day to relax before heading back but with Sammy returning to school, there was no way that Dean was going to sit around the house. So, he forced himself to drag his sorry, still-injured ass back out to this hellhole that people consider a learning institute. Besides, he was hoping to maybe get a clue or something as to who could possibly be possessed by Lilith. 

How he’d figure it out though, was a complete mystery. Cas couldn’t help without tipping their hand. And it wasn’t like Dean could go around asking all the girls for a sample of their handwriting. Oh well, maybe he’d come up with something while he watched his classmates. Jason and Chris were shooting spitballs across the room at each other. Tim was reading his textbook. Amanda was chewing gum and painting her nails hot pink. Beth and Kim were gossiping and giggling. Patty was doing her homework about ten minutes before it was due. Fred was sleeping. Kristin walked into the class and took her seat, putting her shoes up on her desk and scowling at the class. Yep, everything was perfectly normal. None of them seemed particularly demonic, but then again, what was a demonic preteen supposed to act like?

“Dean, you’re back!”

Dean looked up to see Emily sit down at the desk next to his. “Wow, you’re observant.”

She rolled her eyes. “Were you sick?”

He shook his head. “Nah, got jumped by Cujo and my shoulder didn’t appreciate being ripped apart by its teeth.”

“Cujo?”

“Yeah… you know, from the Stephan King book?” At her continued blank stare, Dean sighed. “It’s a book, and later a movie, about a rabid dog that viciously mauls the crap outta its victims.”

Emily shook her head. “Like my parents would let me read or watch something like that. Wait, are you saying you got mauled by a rabid dog?”

“Well, it wasn’t rabid, but it was huge, vicious, and mean as all hell.”

“Weren’t you bit by a dog two years ago?” She asked.

“Apparently dogs just don’t like me.” Dean commented, thoughts of hellhounds flooding his mind.

“Where were you bit?”

Dean pulled down the collar of his t-shirt to expose a little of the white bandage. “Got my shoulder, but I think it was going for my throat.”

“Oh my god!” Emily gasped, her hand going up to cover her mouth. “It could’ve killed you, Dean!”

“Well, I’m okay. Just had to get some stitches, some antibiotics, and a blood transfusion. The doctors said I was really lucky that the dog wasn’t rabid, ‘cause then I’d have to get all kinds of shots and stuff.”

Emily made a face. “Does it hurt?”

“Like all hell.”

“You shouldn’t even be in school!”

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to fall too far behind. Or you know, end up staying back a year due to too many absences or something stupid like that.” Dean shrugged without thinking and the winced in pain.

“I doubt they’d have made a genius like you stay back. And if your parents had contacted the school, you could’ve gotten the work sent to you so you wouldn’t’ve fallen behind.”

“Okay, well, if you really want me to go…”

Emily laughed. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, Dean. I actually missed you.”

“Oh really?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. I’m just saying that we had a pop quiz in math and I had no one to copy off of.”

Dean chuckled. “I feel for you, really.”

Any further comments were cut off by the final bell and the appearance of the teacher. 

The day went by rather quickly, but Dean still kept glancing around at all of his classmates, trying to figure out if any of them could be possessed. None were acting suspicious, or seemed to really be paying any extra attention to him even though he was certain he could feel someone watching his every move. But maybe that was just paranoia, because Dean knew that he had been right and one of them had to be Lilith. Which eliminated all the boys from suspicion. And the teachers, since the bitch greatly preferred young hosts. Which was just sick. No matter what happened next, there was going to be a little girl forever traumatized from being possessed. If the host survived at all. 

Dean shook his head, trying not to focus on that. It was hard to get a read on the girls in his class, though. They didn’t really talk with him much. He was just the super smart little freak that most of them avoided. Some of the boys would bully him, or try to until Dean would stare them down, but not so much the girls. Well, except for Kristin, but Dean wasn’t sure if she liked anyone, herself included. And the only other one who ever paid any attention to him was Amanda, the tiny cheerleader-like girl that always sat in the back of the class and occasionally flirted with him. Dean had a feeling that by the time she made it to high school, she would already be well on her way to sleeping with the entire male population of the graduating class. But he was certainly not going to be adding his name to that list. He was over thirty and she was twelve; it was just wrong on so many levels. But in any event, the rest of the girls in the class barely even looked at him, so if they were possessed by a demon, he’d have no way of knowing that they were acting any different. And doing something radical like blessing the school’s water supply and seeing who reacted was out of the question because yet again, it would force Lilith’s hand. 

By the end of the day, Dean’s head was spinning and he was no closer to figuring out who could be possessed. He trudged out of the school and out onto the sidewalk to meet up with Cas. 

“Hey, Cas.”

“How are you feeling, Dean.”

“Like crap. Let’s grab Sammy and head home.”

The angel nodded. Dean walked by his friend’s side and felt his heart pick up pace as they passed the same spot that Gordon had stopped them at just a few days before. His muscles tensed and the young hunter had to fight the urge to look over his shoulder to make certain that there wasn’t a car there, slowly pulling up to the curb. It was a relief when they reached the grammar school with no incidents.

“Dean!” Sammy was waiting with the other kids with a big grin on his face.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean waved to his brother with his good arm.

The little boy came running at him, his pace slowed by his awkward limp. Dean found himself just about tackled as the younger boy threw his arms around him and held him tight.

“I missed you, Dean! But school was so fun! And we made you a ‘get well’ card for your bite so it’ll feel better.”

“That’s great, Sammy.”

His brother leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “I was a little scared, but I remembered that you and Cas were watching out for me and I felt better.”

Dean smiled. “That’s good. You ready to go home?”

“Yep.”

Dean wrapped his right arm around Sammy and they trailed behind Cas out of the school yard. Dean figured that once they were home he’d quickly get his homework out of the way and then go back to his research on trying to prepare for the battles to come. Just because they’d made it through their first day back to school without any problems didn’t mean that something bad wasn’t coming. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Lilith smiled as she practically skipped down the stairs of Lawrence Middle School. Dean Winchester had returned today, none the wiser. She’d been a bit concerned that the little stunt with Gordon would’ve tipped her hand, that those low level flunkies would’ve said something before their demise. She should’ve known better. Her demons were much more frightened of her than some hunters.

Dean was close to her yet again. And in pain from his injuries. It was practically delicious. If only she could’ve grabbed onto that shoulder and squeezed… Oh well, there’d be plenty of time for that later. For now Lilith would be content to continue this charade and stay close to him. 

After watching him for years, she’d discovered quite a bit, but still didn’t understand him. A child that young should not be functional after all he’d been through, yet he was positively stoic. She couldn’t wait for a front row seat when he was brought before Alastair. Lilith giggled at the though of all those tough outer layers of Dean Winchester being peeled away and what could possibly lie beneath. 

She was still smiling when she climbed onto the school bus that would take her back to her host body’s home.


	86. For the Kids

Chapter Eighty-Six: For the Kids

“I’m just not convinced that this is the best idea.” John argued, shaking his head. “You’re not fully healed yet and it hasn’t even been that long since… well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there.” Dean shot back. “But I’m the only one of us that has ever dealt with one of these bastards, so I go with you guys.”

“We can pass the hunt on to another hunter.”

“And how many more kids die before this other hunter gets there, huh? We can be there and have the job done tonight.”

Mary sighed as she watched her husband and oldest son go back and forth. They’d already been at it for quite a while and were now just going around in circles. She was tempted to cut in but neither combatant was leaving enough room for another person to enter the match. So, Mary was waiting and biding her time. Eventually one or the other would have to take a breath. Or they’d pass out from lack of oxygen from all that yelling and she’d have her say then.

“How about you give us all the information we need to know on this ‘rawhead’ and your mother and I will take care of it ourselves.”

“How about ‘no’.”

“Dean…”

“Dad, I’ve taken these things out before. And since we’ll be using tasers, each one of us will only get one shot, so the more of us there are, the better. Adding me and Cas to the hunting party makes sense and you know it. I can fire the taser with my good right arm no problem.”

John groaned in frustration, but his momentary break in arguing gave Mary the perfect opportunity to speak up. At first, she’d been tempted to side with her husband and wanted to protect her son, but Dean’s arguments were starting to make sense. Yet, before she could say a word, another voice joined in.

“Dean has to go.”

Everyone turned to see Sammy standing there. How he’d gotten into the room with no one noticing was beyond her, but they were going to have to start paying better attention from now on. 

“Sammy…” John started.

“No!” The youngest member of the family interrupted. “I heard what you were all saying. Kids could die. Dean saved me from a vampire and now the other kids need him. He should go.”

“Our boys are right.” Mary spoke up, stepping forwards to wrap Sammy in a hug. “Dean has been in tougher fights in worse conditions than this. He can handle it. Those children need us to take this hunt, John.”

Her husband hung his head and balled his fists. She knew that he knew they were right. But man did he hate to admit it. “Fine. But me and Mary take the lead on this one.”

“Understood.” Dean immediately conceded.

Mary let out a sigh of relief. Her men had finally come to an agreement.

“But will you still be able to take me trick ‘r treatin’ tomorrow, Dean?” Sammy asked.

“’Course, Sammy. We’ll be back late tonight and our plans for tomorrow will be just fine. You sure you’re up for it though? I mean, with everything that’s gone on?”

Sammy nodded. “Yeah! ‘Cause Halloween’s just make believe and those monsters aren’t real and we get candy!” 

Dean laughed. “Cool. Oh Mom, would it be okay if I had a friend over after the whole trick or treating thing? Her parents got strict about the whole ‘no fun on Halloween thing’ now that she reached the very old age of twelve and that’s kinda lame, so I invited her to hang out with me and Sammy.”

Mary smiled and couldn’t resist teasing her son. “Sure, but aren’t you a little young to be inviting girls over?”

Dean scoffed. “Really, Mom? I’m…” He looked over at his little brother before deciding to be careful how he worded things. “Older than I look. And that’s just…”

Mary laughed. “I have to give you a hard time.”

“You don’t _have to_. You want to.”

“Maybe.” Then something crossed her mind. “Uh, Dean, do you think it’s such a good idea to spend time with girls from your school while Lilith’s around. You know, just in case.”

Dean stared at her. “Mom… I don’t… Emily isn’t Lilith. I’ve known her for a while now.”

“And what better cover.”

“No.” He shook his head.

“We can’t rule out anything, Dean.”

“Well then, we’ll know tomorrow.” He insisted. “She’s meeting me here and I’ll inviter her in before we go out to collect candy. With all the protection we have in place, no demon, not even one as powerful as Lilith could step through the front gate.”

“Won’t that force her hand?” Mary asked, concerned. If Lilith felt trapped and attacked Dean, all hell would break loose. Literally. 

“Nah. She’s played it smart up until now. She’d sense the barriers and make up some excuse not to enter the house and then we’ll know for sure. But if she comes inside, we know she’s not possessed.”

Mary nodded. “Okay, Dean. It’s your call. But for now, go get ready. We’ll leave for the hunt in just a few minutes. And Sammy, you pack up anything you want to bring with you. We’ll drop you off with Bobby before we go.”

“Okay!” 

She watched both boys go upstairs before turning to John. “I’m not sure I’m ever going to get used to that.”

“What, our children making all our decisions for us?”

“You know that it was the right call.”

“Maybe, but I still don’t like it. And Sammy joining in with Dean just… it isn’t right that he knows all this stuff, Mary.”

She closed her eyes. “I agree. I wish I could’ve taken out Gordon myself for pulling our baby boy into all of this. But what’s done is done and now we have to do our best to deal with the aftermath.”

“And just how is it that you and Dean are dealing so much better with it than I am?”

“We aren’t.” She informed him with a kiss. “You are just trying to control the whole situation and it is so far beyond our control. You’re doing a great job, honey. And everything will work out.”

“Or the world will end.” He offered. 

“And then we won’t have to worry about it.”

He chuckled and pulled her in for another kiss. They broke apart as they heard the boys coming back down the stairs.

When they all finally reached the rundown, long-abandoned daycare center that the creature had made its home in, Mary held her weapon in her right hand and looked around.

“We’re sure that this is the right spot?”

“Bobby said that Mark said the intel was sound.”

“And why isn’t he taking care of this then?”

John shook his head. “Mark got into hunting when one of these bastards killed his son. But he’s since found that he freezes up every time he encounters one of these monsters. So if he gets wind of them, he does the legwork before passing the job on to another hunter.”

“Makes sense.” Dean commented.

“There are four entrances. I assume we will be splitting up.” Castiel spoke up.

“That sounds like a plan.” Dean nodded.

“I thought we agreed that your mother and I would take point.” John cut in.

“Okay, but if we all go in together, the rawhead will most likely make a run for it. If it gets away, we’re screwed.”

John thought it over. “Where’s it most likely to be?”

“Basement. They like dark, secluded spots. But we should check out all the rooms on the main floor too, just to be sure.”

“Okay. I’ll go in through the front. Mary, you take the side entrance. Cas you get the back. Dean, you go in through the playground and enter through the classroom. We clear the rooms and meet at the basement entrance. We’ll go down together.”

Dean nodded his approval. “Everyone remember to lock up and block the doors as best you can behind you. We need to slow this son of a bitch down if he tries to make a run for it.”

“And don’t take a shot unless you know you can hit it.” Mary reminded them. “We can’t waste a single shot.”

“And remember that we’re using a lot of volts, so be careful.” Dean warned. “And for God’s sake, don’t fire while standing in a puddle of water.”

There was a story there, Mary was certain of it, but she didn’t have time to question him right then. They all split up and she walked around the side of the dilapidated brick building. Once she reached the side entrance, she wondered how exactly she was supposed to secure the door behind her. It was hanging ajar on only one of its hinges. 

Mary very carefully pulled it open just far enough that she could slip through. Once she was in, the hunter pulled it shut and started looking around for anything to block the doorway with. Off to her right was another doorway and she stepped into the room, turning on her flashlight and taking a look around. 

She found herself in a children’s library, complete with shelves of books, tables, chairs, a circular rug for children to sit on, a puppet theater, and a few children’s toys. Mary pulled one of the nearest shelves out into the hall and pushed it in front of the door she just entered the building through. The exit blocked, she went back into the library to make certain the room was clear. She checked behind all the shelves and tables and found nothing but dust and abandoned toys. Mary wondered why none of the books or toys had been donated but since she knew nothing about the daycare or even the town it was in, she couldn’t say.

Leaving the library, Mary walked back out into the hall. She caught a glimpse of John entering a room down the hall. She was pretty certain that that was the office area down there. She walked across the hall and entered a small cafeteria. It was set up for maybe two dozen children. Mary walked past all of the tables and chairs, carefully surveying the room for any sign of the creature. She’d never seen one herself, but Dean had described it to all of them. Besides, she was pretty sure that even without his description she’d kill anything that she saw that looked like that running around in an abandoned daycare center in a town where kids were going missing.

Speaking of the missing kids, Dean had informed them that there was a chance that one or both of them could still be alive. Mary hoped so, because she really didn’t want to find their corpses, especially not so soon after almost losing both of her own children. No, she couldn’t think about that right now. That day and a half when she was certain she’d never see Dean and Sammy alive again still haunted her. She had grown used to seeing Dean in dangerous situations, but she was always there to back him up. Sitting at home knowing that he was off with a crazy hunter that didn’t care whether he lived or died and was putting the boy in a deadly position was just about unbearable. And Sammy… he wasn’t ever supposed to be in those positions. He was supposed to be at home safe and sound and oblivious to all the dangers of the world. Mary had no clue how her heart had survived all that.

Mary pulled herself out of her thoughts and pushed open the swinging door that led to the kitchen area. She glanced around, taking in the sight of the stoves and the large refrigerators that no longer served any purpose. There was a lot of equipment back there, but no sign of any creature. There was, however, what appeared to be dried blood on the floor. Mary crouched down to take a closer look. It wasn’t that old. She felt her hopes for the missing children start to dwindle. The hunter got to her feet and looked the room over again. There along the back wall was another swinging door that must’ve led to some sort of storage room. 

Mary adjusted her grip on her flashlight and weapon and started off towards the door. She never reached it however. Once she was within a few meters of the wall, the door swung open and a blur tore out and plowed right into her full force, knocking the stunned hunter to the floor.


	87. The Monster Approaches

Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Monster Approaches 

There should be some sort of law against leaving daycare facilities abandoned. Dean decided that fact within the first few seconds of entering the old building. And getting in had been one hell of a chore in and of itself. After climbing the fence into the playground and making his way through the rusty old equipment, the boy hadn’t been able to get the damned door open. The stupid thing was stuck. The knob wouldn’t turn and the door wouldn’t budge even a fraction of an inch. Finally, Dean gave up and threw a rock through one of the windows. After using his denim jacket clad arm to make certain that all the glass was cleared out, the small hunter climbed into the opening and dropped down to the floor of the classroom. And that was when he decided that daycares should not be left standing after their usefulness had worn out. Because once empty, they were just damned creepy.

The boy looked around at the faded artwork hanging on the walls, the lifeless looking dolls careless tossed aside on the counters, the pile of toy cars that looked for all the world like a terrible and deadly accident had occurred, and the play food that was left out as though the world had abruptly ended and no one had gotten to finish their final meals. Dean shook his head to clear away his dark thoughts. It was just a toddler’s playroom. Why there were still toys there when it was clear that no one had used the place in years, he couldn’t say. Most likely, the owner had died and there had been some sort of legal battle or something, but since this was a clear cut rawhead case and not a haunting, the history of the daycare wasn’t that important. Still, the hunter found the whole environment to be more than a bit eerie. 

Dean quickly cleared the classroom and then left, crossing the hall and opening the door to the next one. It was set up differently, obviously a nursery for babies, but it was just as creepy. Abandoned changing tables and empty cribs with old hanging mobiles and dusty stuffed animals. 

He had just opened the closet to double check it, not that he could picture the monster hiding out in the tiny storage area, when he heard a barely audible thud from somewhere behind him. Dean spun around, taser at the ready. There seemed to be nothing in the room with him, but he was certain that he’d heard something. The young hunter walked cautiously towards a row of cabinets. They were much too small to hold a rawhead but the perfect size to hold the creature’s victims.

Dean slid one open. It was empty. So was the next. As he stepped up to the third one, the boy heard sobbing start up from inside. Looking at the ones he’d already investigated, he knew that they couldn’t be opened from inside, so whoever was inside was trapped. Pushing aside memories of finding Sammy locked up in the trunk of Gordon’s car, Dean carefully slid the cabinet door open.

A small boy about a year older than Sammy was huddled up in the tiny space, trying not to make any noise while tears were running freely down his cheeks. His black hair was greasy and matted, his clothes torn and bloodstained, and his skin was dirty and bruised. The child looked terrified.

“Who… who are you?”

“My name’s Dean.”

“Did it get you too?”

“No.” Dean shook his head and held out his hand slowly, keeping what he hoped was a comforting smile on his face. “I’m here to rescue you.”

“No. No, if we try to escape it’ll kill us. It killed Eric.” Then the boy started to sob uncontrollably. 

Dean moved closer, but not so much so that he’d seem threatening. “It can’t kill anyone if it’s dead, Ray. That’s your name, right?” He’d read the missing persons reports and if Eric was dead, then that made this Raymond Coombs. 

The boy nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well Ray, I have a special weapon that can get rid of that thing for good. And my family is here with the same kind of weapons too. We are going to keep you safe, kill the monster, and get you home to your parents, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“It killed Eric.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry you had to see that. But I won’t let it hurt you anymore, okay?”

“Okay.” Finally, Ray reached forwards and took Dean’s outstretched hand and allowed the older boy to help him out of the cabinet.

Dean led the child out into the hall. He decided that the best course of action would be to meet up with someone else before he finished checking the other rooms. He couldn’t focus on thoroughly checking each room while protecting Ray at the same time. He was trying to decide which direction to go when he heard his mom cry out.

“Come on!” He called, running towards the cry, still clutching the small boy’s hand. He knew that he had to keep the child safe, but he’d be damned if he’d let anything happen to his mother. 

Dean followed the sounds of a struggle into a lunch room and, not seeing anyone in the eating area, ran towards the back. He plowed through the swinging doors, weapon held in his right hand, and Ray carefully maneuvered behind him to be shielded. Dean was expecting to see his mom facing off against the rawhead but that wasn’t what he found at all. Instead, he saw his mom sprawled out on the ground, holding her right side tightly while blood slowly trickled through her fingers. A knife was lying next to her, stained red. And Cas was standing close by restraining an older teenager who was fighting as hard as he could to get free.

“Get the hell off me you freaking psycho! I’ll gut you like I did your crazy slut! Let me go!” The guy was screaming. 

“Alan?” Ray spoke up from behind Dean.

The teenager went silent and limp for a moment. Then he turned to face Dean and Ray. “Ray? You got free? Run! Get out of here! Go!” 

Dean didn’t let go of the other boy’s hand and the younger child didn’t make a move to follow the teen’s orders. “Ray, who’s this?”

“My brother.” The little boy responded. “Did you come to kill the monster too?” He asked his brother.

“Oh, I’ll kill these monsters just as soon as this one lets me go.”

Dean had heard enough. “We’re not the monsters, douche-bag. You stabbed my mom when she was only trying to help rescue your little brother.” He heard the doors to the cafeteria open and by the sound of the footsteps knew that his dad was only seconds from joining the party. He made his way over to his mom. “You okay, Mom?”

“Yeah. He missed anything critical. Just stings a bit.”

Dean turned back to Alan. “You are so lucky we’re here. If you went up against the thing that took your brother and his friend with only that knife and your crappy aim, you’d get your fool self killed in an instant.”

“Thing? What are you talking about?”

“A monster took us.” Ray answered quietly. “It… it killed Eric and locked me up and it’s ugly and mean and it was gonna kill me too.” He started crying.

Dean could tell that Alan wanted to comfort his baby brother more than he wanted to attack the Winchesters at that point. Besides, there was no way one unarmed teenager was a threat to them. “Cas, let him go.”

Cas did as asked and Ray ran to Alan, who scooped up his brother into his arms and held him tightly. 

“You people are sick.” Alan sneered at them.

“We’re not the ones who did this.” Dean’s dad shot back from where he was crouched by Mary’s side. “The only one person here that’s hurt anyone is you.”

“John, that’s enough.” Mary cut him off. “He was trying to defend his family.”

“How did you find this place?” Dean asked.

“Rumors around town that someone had been seen out here. No one ever comes out here, so I thought maybe it was the kidnappers.”

Someone must’ve seen that other hunter, Mark, when he’d been out here gathering intel. “And you didn’t call the cops.”

“I did. But apparently they, and I quote, ‘follow up on real leads, not on gossip’. So, I thought I’d check it out myself.”

“Brave.” Dean acknowledged. “Stupid as all hell, but brave.”

“I didn’t see any vehicles when we got here.” Dean’s dad commented, opening the first aid kit he’d produced from the pack he’d been carrying. “You got a car nearby?”

“Yeah,” Alan nodded, seemingly more at ease around them since they weren’t attacking him or his brother. “I parked around the block so as not to tip off the kidnappers.”

“Good thinking.” Dean’s father replied. “We’ll escort the two of you to one of the exits and then you get your little brother home. How long do you think it’ll take you to drive back?”

“It’s about a twenty-five minute drive.”

“Drive slow. When you get home your parents are sure to call the police and we need time to take care of the thing that took your brother before the cops descend upon this place.”

“Thing? There you go again. Monsters don’t exist. A person took Ray.”

“No, Alan. It was a monster!” Ray protested.

“I’m sure you were scared enough to believe that, but…”

“We don’t have time for this.” Dean cut in. “We gotta get you outta here and…”

Just then, they all heard the sound of a heavy door being slammed open.

“What was that?” Alan asked.

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say it was the sound of the monster that doesn’t exist bashing open the basement door.” Dean answered. 

Ray started to tremble and cry. Alan held him tightly and turned to the others. “How do we get out of here?”

“It’s too late for that.” Dean’s dad replied. “You’ll have to remain here. We’ll protect you.”

Dean looked over to see that his dad had just finished patching up his mom and was helping her to her feet. “Dad, it’s probably going to look for Ray. When it discovers he’s missing, it’ll follow his scent here.”

“Then we should remain here and make our stand. If we go searching for it, we run the risk of getting taken by surprise.”

Dean nodded. “Just what I was thinking. But we can’t stand right near the doors in ambush or it’ll smell us for sure.”

“You guys know that you’re nuts, right?”

Dean turned to Alan. “Yet some part of you has acknowledged that following our lead is the only way that you’ll make it through this alive. So, you and Ray get into that room back there.” He pointed to a swinging door on the back wall. “Don’t come out until we say that it’s safe. Got it?” At the teenager’s nod, Dean returned his attention to his family. “We gotta find a good spot for an ambush. And we better do it quick, ‘cause it won’t take the rawhead much time at all to find us.”


	88. Only Four Shots

Chapter Eighty-Eight: Only Four Shots 

The silence was driving John crazy. He’d decided long ago that the waiting was probably the absolute worst part of any hunt. Research wasn’t easy, but was challenging and the more he learned, the more ready he felt for not only their current hunt but all of their future hunts. Preparation was necessary and relatively quick. Travel was mostly done in the blink of an eye but when it wasn’t, the drive in the Impala never failed to relax him. And John found that as heart pounding and frightening as the actual battles were, the adrenaline carried him through and they were over soon enough with his family triumphant. But the waiting… the damned waiting before the battles left him enough time worry about all the possible things that could go wrong. And oh hell, were there so many things that could go wrong here. 

John shook his head, trying to bring his focus away from images of his dead family. But really, how could he not think about that? Mary was hurt now, and Dean still didn’t have full use of his left arm from that damned encounter with Gordon Walker (and may that piece of crap rot in Hell for all eternity). Oh, and then there was the fact that none of them save for Dean had ever fired a taser before… Sure, this job would be a piece of cake.

Then he heard it. Footsteps out in the hall. John almost relished the way that all of the worries seemed to fade from his mind as his body tensed in anticipation for the upcoming fight. He couldn’t see where his wife was, but he knew that she would be in her hiding spot, getting ready for the ambush, just as he was. The sound came closer and closer still and didn’t even pause before the door swung open to the lunch room. John heard the rawhead lumber in and, as tempted as he was to poke his head out from where he was crouched behind the overturned lunchroom table to try and get his first glimpse at the creature, he didn’t dare. If the monster saw him, their plan would be ruined.

The plan was simple. He and Mary were to remain in their hiding spots and to act as back up. Once the rawhead was exactly halfway into the room, Cas would teleport directly behind the creature with Dean and they would each take a shot at the monster. Chances were that one of them would be able to take the thing down, but if something went wrong, John and Mary would be ready to take over in an instant. 

John fought to stay completely still as he heard the rawhead close in on the predetermined spot. He clutched the taser tightly in his hand in anticipation but still made no move. Then he heard the slight rustle that always accompanied Cas’ teleportation and seconds later heard a low growl and then Dean cried out in surprise. John sprung up from his spot to see one of the most hideous beasts he’d ever seen shoving his son back into Cas just as Dean fired his weapon. The taser shot missed its mark as the boy and the angel ended up sprawled on the floor. John had no clue how the rawhead had reacted as fast as it would’ve had to to have avoided their ambush but there was no way he’d let it hurt his son. 

The hunter fired from where he was standing, but the rawhead was already moving further into the room, either trying to get away from the threats to itself or still heading towards its prey that was hiding in the back room. John’s shot went wide and if Cas hadn’t rolled out of the way his leg would’ve been hit, which would’ve been especially bad since the angel was still holding on to Dean. 

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Mary take off after the rawhead, but she hadn’t yet fired her weapon. They were down to only two more shots. They couldn’t afford to waste any. The rawhead was just a foot away from the swinging doors that led to the kitchen area when suddenly the right one swung out, slamming into the creature and knocking it back slightly. John saw Alan standing behind the door, looks of shock and anger warring for dominance on his face. The teenager was still armed with his knife, but was obviously no match for the monster and John knew that with his one look at the creature the boy knew it. But the hunter also knew that Alan wouldn’t let the rawhead get anywhere near the younger boy still hiding in the back room, even if it meant risking himself. Alan slammed the door into the creature again, but this time instead of stunning the monster, it just seemed to piss it off and the thing threw itself into the doors. 

John ran into the kitchen area behind the monster, with Mary right on his heels. The rawhead looked like it was about to pound Alan to death when they entered the room. It turned on them and Mary tried to aim but the monster had turned and was running at them before she’d gotten a chance to raise the weapon completely. John was about to throw himself between the dangerous creature and his wife when suddenly Cas appeared behind the rawhead, raised his taser, and fired. The monster stopped in its tracks, started to twitch and jerk, and then fell on the ground, its body still trapped in a grotesque dance of spasms. Seconds later, after Cas release the trigger and the energy stopped coursing through its body, it stilled.

John let out the breath that he hadn’t even been aware that he’d been holding. Dean darted into the room behind them, breaking the silence that had fallen for the few seconds after the monster’s death. 

“Everyone okay?”

“Yeah.” Mary answered. “Castiel took care of the creature in time.”

“Way to go Cas!” Dean praised.

John slipped past his wife and crouched down next to the teenager that was still lying on the ground, now just a few feet away from the dead body of the rawhead. The youngster seemed very close to shock as he stared at the creature with wide eyes. John found that he was no longer angry with Alan for attacking Mary. He himself would’ve made the same mistake in that position if it meant protecting his family. John offered the teen his hand.

“Need some help up?”

“Uh… yeah. Is… is it over? It’s dead, right?” Alan asked as he got up.

“Yeah.”

“What…”

“It’s called a rawhead, but all you need to know is that it’s a monster that attacks children and that it’s dead. Your brother will be safe now.”

“Thank you.” Alan responded gratefully.

John smiled. “You have to take a little credit yourself, too. If you hadn’t slowed it down with that door, it might’ve made it to your hiding spot before we got to it. That sucker was fast.”

“Sure was.” Dean commented. “Fastest one I’ve ever seen. I think it has something to do with age.”

“Don’t care.” Alan replied. “I just wanna get Ray and go home. We can do that now, right?”

Mary came up next to John. “Yes. It’s all over. But you’ll have to think of some cover story to tell people that doesn’t mention monsters or us.”

Alan had already opened the door and Ray was in his arms. “Not a problem. There’s not gonna be anymore of these things around here, right?”

John, Mary, and Cas all looked at Dean. The boy shook his head. “Nah. These guys don’t ever hunt together. You’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.” Ray pulled himself away from his big brother to hug Dean.

Dean returned the gesture. “You’re welcome, Ray. Everything will be okay. You don’t have to be scared anymore. Alan will keep you safe.”

“Of course I will.” Alan promised.

And then the teenager, even though he himself still looked beyond shaken, picked up his little brother and exited the room.

The Winchesters watched the brothers leave before turning back to the mess in the room. 

“I suppose we should clean this all up before the police show up.” John suggested. 

Dean made a face. “Is it too late for me to go and get a doctor’s note saying that I’m exempt from clean up duty due to my shoulder injury?”

John rolled his eyes. “If you’re well enough to hunt, you are well enough to clean.”

“That goes for your room, too.” Mary added.

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Mom…” He stretched the word out into three syllables.

“And I don’t want you doing it for him Castiel.” The mother warned.

John chuckled as he got busy making certain they weren’t leaving any traces of themselves behind. With everyone’s help, they were ready to leave in just over an hour. They all gathered around Cas so that he could transport them back to Bobby’s house to pick up Sammy and then it would be another quick jump back to their home. 

“We ready?” John asked.

“More than.” Dean replied.

John noticed that Mary was looking a bit pale and was holding her side. No new blood was leaking out, so the butterfly bandages and the gauze were still doing their job, but he was anxious to get her home and take care of the wound properly.

“Then let’s get the hell outta here.”

He grabbed on to Cas’ shoulder and didn’t even bother to take one last look around the God forsaken daycare center before they were transported out. Their job was done and it was time to leave.


	89. Trick or Treat

Chapter Eighty-Nine: Trick or Treat 

“C’mon, Dean we gotta go or there won’t be any candy left.” Sammy whined, clutching his orange, plastic pumpkin pail in his hands. The little boy had been dressed in his Halloween costume since the morning and was getting more and more anxious to go trick or treating as the minutes passed. Of course, Dean had to admit that Sammy made a really cute Superman, even if the older boy thought that Batman was a much cooler hero. 

“One minute, squirt. I gotta finish up with my costume.” Dean smeared the white-ish/grey costume make-up on his neck all the way down to his shirt collar and then wiped the excess off of his hands. Then some purple and black mixed to make the perfect looking bruises around his throat. Finally finished, he examined himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked dead. His face was pale with dark circles around his eyes and his lips were a light blue. Dean had even sprinkled baby powder in his hair to make it seem ghostly as well. Faded black jeans and a light grey long sleeve shirt completed his outfit. His parents had offered to buy him a Halloween costume just as they had for Sammy, but he’d told them that he could throw something together. All he’d needed was the make-up.

“Wow! You look creepy!” Sammy exclaimed, from the doorway.

“Ya think?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.” Dean grinned. “You ready to go get that candy?”

“Yeah!” The little guy began jumping up and down and Dean wondered if getting sugary candy for him was such a good idea after all.

They practically flew down the stairs and into the living room, where his mom had just turned their porch light on, signaling that they had candy available for trick or treaters. His parents had debated on whether handing out treats was a good idea or not, but finally decided that they were protected enough that nothing but regular children in costumes would make it up to their front door. Dean watched as his dad walked by and snatched up a mini Hershey’s bar. 

“Those are for the kids!” Dean’s mom smacked her husband roughly as he popped the candy into his mouth.

“You practically bought out the entire candy aisle! We’ll have plenty.”

Dean crept forward and snuck one out of the large bucket as well.

“I saw that Dean.”

Dean laughed as he unwrapped his stolen treat. His dad turned towards him.

“Holy crap, Dean! Did you have to dress up so damned realistically?”

“When I said I was gonna be a ghost, what did you expect? A freakin’ sheet with two holes cut out for eyes?”

“You’re going to scare the other trick or treaters.”

“Oh c’mon, I’m going to be far from the scariest dressed guy out there. Most realistic, sure. But really, who besides us will know that.”

“I think you both look adorable.” His mom offered.

Sammy grinned proudly and Dean just rolled his eyes. 

“Cas, you ready to go?” He yelled.

The angel appeared just a few feet away. “Yes.”

“Nice costume, dude. Tax accountant, right?”

Cas cocked his head to the side. “I’m wearing what I always wear, Dean.”

“Exactly my point. You should dress up. Put on a halo and wings. Or devil horns would be ironic.” At his friend’s blank stare, Dean shrugged. “Or what you’re wearing is perfect.”

“Then we can leave.”

“Good,” Dean’s mom interrupted. “Because it looks like your friend is here.”

Dean opened the front door and saw Emily standing right outside the front gate. When she saw him, she waved. Dean walked out to meet her. As he got close he smiled.

“Nice costume.”

“Thanks. Just some old ripped up clothes and some stolen make-up from my mom’s room but I think it works.”

“What did you use for the blood?”

“Real blood.” Emily lowered her voice to sound sinister but then burst out laughing. “Actually, I heard somewhere that fake blood is like, colored corn syrup or something so I mixed up some sugar and water and food coloring and some other stuff in the kitchen before my mom got home. It’s kind of gross and sticky but I think it looks cool. Anyway, I put it in a container and snuck it, the make-up, and the clothes out of the house and got dressed up at my neighbor’s house before coming here.”

Dean nodded, impressed at her ingenuity and her homemade zombie costume. Her jeans and shirt were torn and ‘bloodstained’. Her hair was a mess and there was a large ‘head wound’ dripping fake blood down the side of her face. Her skin was grey, her lips were black, and her face was covered in small drawn-on cuts. 

“Well, you look awesome.” He commented.

“You too.” She replied. “But if we’re both dead, how are we going to eat candy?”

“We’ll make it work.”

“So, are we ready? Where’s the little guy?”

“Superman is still in the house. Let’s go grab him and then we can go.” Dean suggested. He knew that his mom was waiting and watching to see if Emily would make it past the front gate. Dean thought that the whole thing was ridiculous. He was a hunter, for God’s sake! He’d know if his only friend in the entire school was being possessed by Lilith.

“I can wait here. It’s no big deal.”

Dean shook his head. “Nah. My mom wants to meet you before we go. I think she wants to make sure that you aren’t some kind of weirdo before she lets Sammy go walking with you.”

Emily laughed. “So she doesn’t mind you spending time with a weirdo?”

“Nope. I’m a weirdo too, so that wouldn’t be a big deal at all.”

The girl went to take a step towards the front gate but then stopped with a concerned look on her face. “Wait a minute, Dean. How do I convince her that I’m not a weirdo when I really am?” Then she laughed again and pushed past Dean to walk down the path to the front door.

He chuckled, shook his head, and hurried off after her. Dean caught up to her on the front porch as she was introducing herself to his mom.

“… and I don’t always look like a member of the undead.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Dean’s mom. You can step in if you want. I just need to go and get the flashlights for you guys and then everything will be set.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew that his mom wanted to see if Emily would step through the Devil’s traps. But he said nothing as he watched his friend walk right in. 

“Nice house, Mrs. Winchester.”

“Thank you.” His mom called from the other room, where she was grabbing the flashlights.

Cas walked in with Sammy. 

“Emily, this is Superman, but his secret identity is Sammy.”

“Dean! You can’t tell people my identity!” Sammy exclaimed. 

“She’s dead.” Dean shrugged. “Who’s gonna believe a zombie.”

“Oh, okay.” 

“And this is Cas. He’s my uncle and he’s gonna go with us to make sure we all make it back alive.”

Cas nodded his head once.

Emily looked him over. “Cool trench coat. But if you’re supposed to be a detective or something, you should have a fedora too.”

“This is not a costume. It’s my normal attire.”

“Oh. Well, that’s cool too.” The girl turned slightly red with embarrassment. 

Dean tried hard not to laugh too much at Cas’ expense as his mom walked in and handed them all their lights. 

“Okay, now stay in the neighborhood, don’t go into anyone’s houses, look both ways before crossing the streets, don’t eat the candy until we check it over, walk on the sidewalks, and be back before dark.”

Dean let out an overdramatic sigh. He swore that sometimes his mom forgot how old he really was. “You forgot to remind me not to dig up any graves or hold any séances.”

She swatted him on the back of the head. “Watch it, Dean. Or you’ll be staying home while your brother and friend go get all the candy.”

“Got it.” He grinned.

“Go. Have fun. Stay safe.”

With those words, the four of them were out the door.

Sammy was a bundle of energy, practically running from house to house, jumping up the front steps, knocking on doors, and shouting “trick or treat!”. Dean and Emily hung back behind him, politely holding out their bags, collecting candy, and thanking the people when Sammy was far too excited and would forget. Cas stayed in the background, not participating but making certain that they were safe. 

It was about twenty minutes into the festivities when Dean got the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. A glance over at Cas, and a subtle nod from the angel, confirmed that he was not the only one who felt it. The young hunter started to glance around to try and determine who could be watching him but the sidewalks were crowded with costumed trick or treaters and it was impossible to pick out anyone tailing him in a mob like that. Suddenly every mask from Freddy Kruger to Bozo the clown seemed sinister to him because they could be hiding the face of a black-eyed son of a bitch. The only consolation he had was that Cas was right behind him. If things turned ugly, the angel could easily teleport them all back to the Winchester’s home. Of course that might be a bit difficult to explain to Emily. On the other hand, so would getting disemboweled. 

Dean tried to put those dark thoughts out of his head, yet stay alert to any possible danger. They had just descended a staircase down from a front porch when a large group of kids from their school called out to them.

“Hey, Emily! Dean! Awesome costumes!”

Dean looked over at the assortment of masked and painted up kids. Some he recognized but others he had no clue as to who they were. From his right, he heard Emily groan. He knew that she severely disliked some of the kids in the group. 

“Thanks.” She called back in a falsely cheerful tone.

“Don’t go to the old man’s house.” A boy in a wolfman mask warned. “He’s handing out his nasty homemade candy covered rotten apples again.”

“Oh, ick.” Emily made a face. 

Dean looked the group over and felt like his blood was turning to ice water. Someone in the group was staring right back at him and though their face was obscured by a mask, the hunter instinctively knew that they were grinning evilly at him. The boy did his best not to let on that he knew, sticking with the plan of not tipping his hand. It might just be a regular run of the mill demon, but if it was Lilith, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to make her move. 

“Thanks for the advice.” Dean forced a smile. Then he took Sammy’s hand and pulled him along towards the sidewalk. Once they were on their way, he glanced over at the angel. “Cas…”

“I know.”

“Do you know which one?”

“No.”

“What are you two talking about?” Emily asked.

“Uh, I wasn’t sure what house they were saying we should avoid.” Dean lied.

“Oh. It’s on the next street over. But I doubt we’ll even get there since your brother is looking a bit tired.”

“No I’m not!” Sammy protested.

Dean looked over at his little brother. “Dude, if you were any more tired, I’d be carrying you back home. Which, by the way, I’m _not_ doing. So let’s start heading back. We’ve almost filled up our bags anyways.”

On the walk home, Dean kept thinking over all of the kids he’d seen in the group. He dismissed the few without masks. He’d seen their faces and they hadn’t been staring at him. But that still left four unknown girls. Four. He had no clue who they were and that was far from helpful. Maybe he could ask one of the others in school the next day… Right, because that wouldn’t seem suspicious. 

By the time they made it back home, Dean felt completely creeped out and was no closer to figuring out what his next move should be. Maybe once Emily left, he could talk to his parents and figure things out.

“How did things go?” His mom asked.

“Great!” Sammy replied. “Look at all the candy I got!”

“Wow, that’s a lot! Leave it on the table and your dad and I will look it over. Now get upstairs and into pajamas.” 

“But Superman doesn’t have to go to bed this early!”

“No, but Sammy Winchester does.”

“Awwww.” 

Dean watched his little brother trudge upstairs with his head hung down.

After the youngest Winchester was tucked into bed, everyone else sat down on the couch to watch a horror movie. Dean wished that they could watch a really scary one, but since he didn’t want to freak out Emily too badly they decided to stick with something a bit more mild. They had just pressed play and started digging into a bowl of buttered popcorn when there was a noise outside. Dean tensed a bit before remembering that they were perfectly safe inside their well-protected house. It was probably just a group of teens out trick or treating late.

The boy leaned back into the couch and tossed a piece of popcorn up into the air. It was coming down straight to his mouth when suddenly the all the lights in the house went out.


	90. Living a Horror Movie

Chapter Ninety: Living a Horror Movie 

The room had been plunged into pitch blackness and it was all Emily could do not to shriek in pure terror. She hadn’t been expecting it and the complete loss of power in the house made her heart first skip a beat and then pick up pace to terribly fast levels. She wondered if it were possible for a perfectly healthy twelve year old girl to drop dead of a heart attack. But she prided herself on her tough-as-nails attitude and Emily would be damned if she was going to act like one of those silly cheerleader-type girly girls in front of the boy she’d come to think of as her best friend. So, instead of screaming and latching onto someone in fear, she took a deep breath and fought to keep her voice steady as she tried to figure out what was going on.

“Uh… if this is one of your Halloween traditions, it’s kinda lame. So, can we just turn the lights and tv back on now?” She asked.

“Wasn’t us.” Came the voice of Dean’s father.

“So, it’s really a convenient power outage on Halloween night?” Emily asked incredulously.

“More like inconvenient.” Dean muttered.

Suddenly a flashlight turned on and Emily saw Mrs. Winchester walking towards them holding the small device. 

“I have one flashlight.” She said. “Where did you kids put the others?”

“On the kitchen table with the candy.” Dean provided.

A moment later, they all had flashlights and Emily felt just a little bit better. But it was still a little unnerving. Really, losing power on a night like Halloween? What were the chances?

“I’ll go downstairs and check out the fuses.” Mr. Winchester offered.

“Go with him, Cas.” Dean ordered, in a voice that had way more authority than a nine year old really should.

“I’ll be fine, Dean. The basement is safe.”

“Dad, humor me.”

The man sighed. “Fine. C’mon, Cas.”

Emily watched the two men leave the room. Boy, she wished that her parents would listen to her the way that Dean’s listened to him. 

“I’m going to go and check on Sammy.” Mrs. Winchester informed them. “Will you two be alright?”

“Sure.” Dean nodded.

“Stay right there and don’t leave the house.”

“Not stupid, Mom.” Dean returned with a roll of his eyes.

“Never said you were. But I’m just concerned.”

“I know.” This time her friend looked and sounded completely serious.

Emily was beginning to feel even more nervous. It felt like something was going on, or that the Winchesters thought that something could be going on, and the girl had no clue as to what that something could possibly be. 

She nervously got up off the couch and started to pace a little and when that didn’t relieve her building anxiety, she walked over to the window.

“What’re you doing?” Dean asked.

“Just looking outside.”

“My mom said that we should just stay put.”

“Dean, I’m _looking_ out the window, not climbing out it.” Emily retorted.

He chuckled a bit and joined her just as she pushed the curtain aside. Both of them let out twin gasps as they saw what was out on the street in front of the house. One of the power lines was down. Completely down. The wooden pole was broken clear through about three feet up from the base and was lying down parallel to the Winchester’s front yard. The electric wires were severed and were dancing in the air shooting out arches of electricity in an awesome display the likes of which she’d never seen before. And standing in the middle of it all was a girl dressed in a Halloween costume. She wore black high-tops, red tights, a black skirt, a red sweater, and a devil’s mask. Emily was sure the girl had been in the group that they’d seen earlier, but couldn’t place who it really was. She gasped again as an electric wire came in contact with the girl, but the costumed kid didn’t even react. 

Emily stumbled back away from the window. She couldn’t believe her own eyes. What had just happened? And how? And what did it mean? And why the hell was Dean still staring at it, not looking surprised or shocked, but like he was trying to figure out what to do next?

“Dean?”

The boy turned away from the window. “We need to stay inside. And it’s probably best to stay away from the windows from now on.”

“Who… how…”

“I don’t know.”

“We should call the police.”

Dean shook his head. “No.”

“What? Why not?”

“Let’s just wait for my parents to come back.”

Emily wasn’t sure she liked his response. Or lack thereof. “Well, we should call your dad back upstairs, then. We know now that he’s not going to find anything wrong with the fuse box.”

“Then he’ll be back any minute.” Dean replied.

Emily couldn’t help but notice that her friend was far too calm for a nine year old. He should be panicking like she was, not thinking reasonably and coming up with excuses. She’d known that there was something different about Dean Winchester from the moment she’d met him back in the fourth grade; it was one of the reasons she’d decided to befriend him. But now she knew that there was something very off about him. Yet whatever it was, it seemed to be handy in a crisis.

Just then, Mr. Winchester and Cas came back upstairs. 

“I didn’t find anything.”

“That’s ‘cause the problem’s outside, Dad.” Dean explained. “An electric pole has been knocked down by _something_. And there’s a _girl_ out there in the middle of it. I think we need the _items_ I brought back with me all those years ago.”

His dad nodded and took off for the stairs. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move, and stay away from the windows.”

Dean nodded. “Cas, go tell Mom.”

Cas hesitated for a moment but finally nodded and headed up after Mr. Winchester.

Emily couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d seen outside. It was impossible. No one could just stand there and get electrocuted like that. And those wires, they shouldn’t have been dancing through the air like that in the first place. They should’ve been down on the ground, possibly twitching slightly. And the glow of the electricity shouldn’t have been bright enough to illuminate the entire scene. The whole thing was impossible. Maybe she’d imagined it? No. Dean had seen it too. 

Oh God, she was scared. Emily started pacing and running her hands through her hair like she always did when she got nervous.

“Emily, sit down.”

“I can’t, Dean. I’m kinda freaking out here. And you should be too.”

“Trust me, I am.”

“Not nearly enough! What the hell is wrong with you?”

The boy bit his bottom lip as he was thinking and just as he was about to respond, Emily heard footsteps on the stairs. She looked up just in time to see Mr. Winchester walking down and tucking a gun into the back of the waistband of his pants. A gun. Dean’s dad had a gun!

Suddenly whatever was happening outside the house didn’t seem anywhere near as scary as what could happen inside their house. Without a second thought, Emily darted towards the front door, pulled it open, and ran outside.

She was terrified now and didn’t even contemplate the live electric wires until she’d almost reached the front gate. Then she turned to the right and took off into the yard running through the grass. Somewhere in the back of her head, she recognized that the girl in the Halloween costume was no longer on the front walk but that was not a concern of hers right at the moment. Emily just wanted to get away from the man with the gun.

“Emily! No! Wait up!” Dean was yelling to her but the girl didn’t slow down. 

When she reached the corner of their yard, she climbed the fence, doing her best to ignore the sharp pain as a broken piece of the wood cut into her right calf. When her feet hit the sidewalk, the almost-teen took off running as fast as her legs could take her. She had to get home. Or at the very least put as much distance as possible between herself and that crazy family. Maybe they’d rigged up the entire display to confuse her and then Mr. Winchester was going to kill her. In the end, it didn’t matter. That man had had a gun and Emily was certainly not going to hang around to see what he was going to do with it.

She was just running passed an alleyway when someone reached out and grabbed her. Emily tried to scream, but a small hand covered her mouth. It was strange. The arm that was wrapped around her middle was smaller than her own but she was being held so tightly that she couldn’t budge an inch. How could this person be so strong?

“Don’t fight me, scream, or try to run and you might live through tonight.” A girl’s voice practically sung into her ear. Emily knew that she should recognize the voice but there was something wrong with it.

She nodded to show that she understood and the hands released her. Emily took a step away and turned to face her attacker. It was the girl in the devil mask. Up close, she still couldn’t see the identity of the girl.

“Who… who are you?”

“Oh Emily, you don’t recognize your school mate? We’ve gone to the same school forever!”

Emily studied her closely and then realized that she had disregarded the biggest clue. Actually, it was the smallest clue. Her size. She was a tiny girl, even shorter than Dean was. And there was only one girl in the entire class that was that petite.

“Amanda?”

The girl pulled the creepy mask off, revealing her cheerful looking face and blonde pigtails. “Sort of. But more on that later. For now, let’s discuss your friend, Dean.”

“Dean? What about him?”

“Well, I tried to get close to him a few times, but he wasn’t all that interested. Besides, I can’t make it past his front gate anyways. You, on the other hand, are welcome in the Winchester home. I need your help to get Dean out of his house without his whole entourage.”

“What are you talking about?”

Amanda rolled her eyes and then those very same eyes turned pure white. Emily opened her mouth to scream but then bit her tongue, remembering the threat from earlier. She didn’t want to die and now there was no doubt that this girl, or whatever Amanda was, would really kill her if she didn’t follow her instructions. 

“What I’m talking about, dear Emily, is the fact that I need to get my hands on Dean Winchester and you are my ticket to doing just that. I’ve been waiting and watching for years and now it’s time to make a move. You can help me or you can die bloody.” 

“How about option number three, bitch! You go back to Hell.” 

Emily turned to see Dean standing in the mouth of the alley, a look of determination on his young face. She scramble back away from Amanda and stood next to him. Sure, he was younger than her and shorter than she was, but there was something about him that made her feel like he could protect her. Somehow, Dean seemed in control of this crazy, scary, insane situation.

“Dean, how nice of you to join us!” Amanda greeted. “And you came alone.”

“I don’t need backup to deal with a pathetic demon like you.” The boy spat at her.

Demon? What the hell?

“Oh, you have no clue who I am.” Amanda bragged.

“I can take a guess. Lilith, right?”

The girl’s pure white eyes widened. “How…”

“’Cause I’m not a dumbass like you. Oh, and I know how to do research.” Dean shot back. “So, what’re you doing roaming around up here? Aren’t you supposed to be burning your ass off in the pit?”

“Got out on good behavior.”

“Who let you out?”

“You’d never believe me.”

“Try me.”

“I think not.”

Dean took a step forwards and then suddenly he was flung through the air by an invisible force and was pinned to the wall. This time, Emily did cry out. 

“Dean!”

As she watched in horror, blood started to leak through his shirt and run down to drip onto his jeans. The boy closed his eyes tightly and let out a groan but other than that he made no noise.

Amanda, or Lilith, let out a sadistically gleeful laugh. “Oh goody! This is just so much fun!” Then she actually started to jump up and down and clap her hands.

Emily felt tears running down her face. She was scared to death and so confused and just wanted this nightmare to end. And more than anything she didn’t want Dean to die. As quietly as she could, the girl stepped forwards and picked up a broken metal curtain rod that someone had discarded and then crept forwards. Her heart was beating wildly and so loudly that she thought for sure that it would give her away. But the white-eyed sadistic girl (demon, Dean had called her a demon) was too engrossed in making Dean bleed without even touching him. 

Once she was close enough, Emily held the rod tightly and swung the makeshift weapon hard enough to make her softball couch proud. When the metal pole made contact with a loud thud, the blonde girl dropped to her knees. At the same moment, Dean was released from whatever was holding him and he slid to the ground. 

But it was only a temporary solution because a second later, Amanda/Lilith was back on her feet and looking severely pissed off. Which was probably a very bad thing.

“You’re dead, girl.” She sneered.

Emily took a step back but knew that running was not going to help. She saw Dean pull himself up and get ready to rush Amanda/Lilith, but really, with all the power that the girl/demon/thing seemed to have, what chance did a couple of kids have against her?


	91. In the Alley

Chapter Ninety-One: In the Alley 

Dean tried his best to ignore the pain in his chest and the weakness he felt from Lilith’s attack as he dragged himself forwards and threw his small body at the possessed blonde haired girl. He couldn’t believe that Emily had attacked the demon to protect him and he wasn’t about to let this bitch kill his friend for her bravery. The young hunter knew that he’d never be able to defeat Lilith, but he could keep her busy until Cas and his father arrived. His dad had seen him take off after Emily and had no doubt run to go inform the angel of what was happening. And when backup arrived, they’d all kick the demon chick’s ass. You know, if Dean was still alive to help with the ass kicking.

He felt himself slam into the smaller body and they both went down. But within seconds Dean was on his back with Lilith straddling his hips and holding his hands over his head with only one of hers. The other was resting on his chest, the fingers digging slightly into his flesh. Dean knew that he was in serious trouble. The demon could kill him with but a thought. In the other hand, Hell had been after him for years and they wanted him alive.

“Whoa there, bitch. You’re moving a bit too fast for me. We haven’t even had a first date yet. Besides, with the rep you’ve got, I’m a bit concerned about catching something.”

She smiled at him sadistically. “Oh, you know you’ll love it.”

“So that’s the line you use… not very original. Maybe you should put some more thought in and we’ll pick this up another time, huh?”

Lilith laughed. It was a creepy sound somewhere between a girlish and a manic giggle. “Oh, Dean. You are just so funny. I wonder how much skin Alastair will have to strip from your body before you lose that sense of humor.”

“How about we just leave that a hypothetical question?” Dean suggested.

“How about you come with me and I don’t have to kill your little friend and your entire family?”

“Okay.” Dean immediately agreed.

Lilith seemed surprised. “Okay?”

“Yes. Just let me up and I’ll follow you anywhere you want. It’s not like I could escape you, right? You’d just throw my ass around again.”

“Fine. Why don’t we kiss on it?”

“No way. I don’t make those kinds of deals. Not without reading the fine print anyways, and I left my lawyer at home.”

Lilith scowled. “So I’m supposed to just take your word on it?”

“Dude, I gotta trust your word and you’re a skanky demon. I think you got the better end of this whole thing.”

After a moment, the possessed girl stood up. Dean let out a sigh and got to his feet. He was careful not to make any sudden moves, as he didn’t want to end up seriously injured. And, more importantly, he didn’t want Emily to get killed. Dean could see her standing off to the side, unsure of what to do next. He hoped that she stayed still and out of the way. While her actions in defending him earlier were brave, they could’ve easily have gotten the girl ripped apart.

Lilith reached out and grasped Dean’s hand and started to pull him along behind her. The young hunter reluctantly followed. They hadn’t taken more than a few steps when a voice cut through the night.

“Get your hand off of my son, bitch.”

Dean turned with a grin to see his dad now standing in front of Emily, holding the Colt in his right hand. Lilith growled and spun him around to use him as a shield. He felt the wounds in his chest start to pump out blood again and couldn’t stop a moan of agony from slipping out. 

“Put the gun away, John, or I’ll bleed your son out right now.”

“That would interrupt your plans a bit, wouldn’t it?” Dean’s dad asked.

“We’ll improvise.” Lilith stated.

“You… you already are.” Dean gasped out. “Isn’t that why you want me? To get answers as to why your original plans failed?”

“Have you ever considered the fact that your plans failed because your side was destined to lose?” Cas questioned as he appeared behind Lilith. Dean struggled to turn his head to see his friend.

“ _My_ side?” Lilith asked. “What about _your_ side? Oh yeah, I know what you are. And your side has just as much to lose if our plans don’t work out. Which brings up the question of why you’ve been helping this family. I wonder if your superiors know…”

“If you know what I am, you know what I can do to you.” 

Lilith had turned sideways and backed up to the wall with Dean still held in front of her. Dean watched as Cas pulled out his blade. He saw the angel advance on the demon that was holding him captive.

“Come any closer and I will rip his insides out.”

“No, you won’t.” Cas insisted. “Even if you did not want to interrogate him, you wouldn’t kill him now. We both know that he is the ‘Righteous Man’ and that Hell has plans for him.”

“Plans that mean nothing if we don’t get the apocalypse back on track.” 

Dean knew that he had to get himself out of the way. Neither Dad or Cas would make a move with him as a hostage and he wasn’t entirely convinced that Lilith wouldn’t just kill him out of spite. Also, she was more that capable of using her powers to lash out at the others. Dean bet that the only thing holding her back was Cas. She couldn’t be certain that he was acting alone and was probably not willing to risk an all out fight against a group of angels at the moment if she suspected that more would show. But if he could get away from the demon bitch, maybe the others could finish her off. And that would be a major victory. Not only would it take a powerful demon off the board, but no Lilith meant no sixty-sixth seal to be broken… ever.

The young hunter knew that struggling would be useless against her superior strength, so instead he suddenly grabbed at his bloody chest, let out a gasp and then went limp. He heard both his dad and Emily call out his name and felt Lilith’s grip slacken in surprise. He used that moment to twist away and let his small body fall to the pavement. 

Suddenly, Cas’ arms were around him and then he was transported right behind his father. Cas then disappeared only to reappear next to Lilith once more. Dean sat up as Emily knelt down next to him. Both of them kept their eyes glued to the scene in front of them. 

Lilith, sensing that her very existence was in danger, put her hand up and flung Dean’s dad against the alley wall. But he got off one shot as he was flying through the air and it hit her in the arm. Not a fatal shot, but her powers failed her and Dean watched his dad drop to the ground. The possessed girl let out a howl and debris from all over the alley whipped up and started flying around. It was probably not even a conscious move. Dean pulled Emily down and used his body to shield her as a few pieces of broken bricks collided with his back. He grunted in pain but kept his eyes trained on the demon not far away. 

And that was when Cas made his move. One moment the angel was standing a couple feet away and the next he was right next to Lilith and his sword was piercing her chest. The evil bitch’s mouth opened in shock and agony but no sound emerged. Dean wondered if the stab wound would be sufficient to kill a demon as powerful as her, but just then a shot rang out. A bullet hole appeared right in the middle of Lilith’s forehead and between the two fatal wounds, the demon was no more. 

Cas pulled his blade free and the small body dropped to the ground. Dean felt Emily bury her face into his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the massive pain coming from his chest. The girl was trembling and he knew that she’d just been through a hell of a lot. But it was over now.

“Cas, take care of the body and then please get us back to the house.” Dean requested, keeping his voice low.

“Alright, Dean.”

He felt his dad’s hand on his back. “Are you okay, son?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Was that…”

“Lilith.”

Silence followed his statement. Dean just kept holding on to Emily, and his dad was crouched down next to them rubbing his back. Dean didn’t protest, even as his father accidently aggravated the sore spot where the broken bricks had slammed into him. His heart was trying to get back to a normal rhythm and Dean’s mind was trying to process the fact that they were all safe. Just minutes ago he was getting ready to follow Lilith off to some place where he would’ve been undoubtfully tortured by Alastair for answers that he’d never reveal and now the bitch was well and truly dead. It kind of seemed unreal. Yet Dean had known even as he’d run out of the house alone that his family would have his back. He was glad that they’d gotten to him before he’d been tortured.

The boy had been so focused on his inner thoughts that he was completely taken by surprised when he found himself transported back home. Dean felt his dad move away from him and he released his hold on Emily. The girl pulled back a bit and looked around.

“What? How… how did we…”

“Cas. He can teleport. Are you okay?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Dean, I am miles away from being okay! I don’t think I’ll ever see okay again! What just happened? What was wrong with Amanda? Or Lilith? Or whoever she was? And… and did your family really kill her?”

“No. No, they didn’t. She’s probably been dead a long time. Emily, I know that this is a lot to take in, but you heard most of it already, so I may as well connect the dots. Amanda was possessed by a demon named Lilith. And she probably has been for a while.”

“And that killed her?” Emily asked.

“Not being possessed, no. But the demon put her body through a lot. Remember what we saw earlier? Amanda couldn’t have survived being electrocuted like that. Once the demon left her body, she wouldn’t have made it.”

“Demons are real?”

“Yeah.”

Emily looked at him and wiped at the tears on her face. “Why do they want you?”

“What?”

“You. What is so special about you that that demon was willing to kill me and your family just to get you?”

“I hunt them. The demons, I mean. I hunt and kill them.”

Emily shook her head. “That’s crap, Dean. I want a real answer. Because your family obviously does the same thing and Cas over there has some scary, crazy powers. But that demon girl didn’t want any of them. She wanted _you_. What the hell makes you so damned different? They called you the ‘Righteous Man’ and spoke about some crazy destiny that you had and you didn’t even blink. The world was going nuts and the demon was killing you and you acted like it was just another day at school. So, who are you Dean Winchester?”

“I… I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll put you in danger.” Dean tried to explain.

Emily laughed somewhat hysterically. “I was almost killed because I decided to go trick or treating with you! So, nice job not putting me in danger.”

“That demon chick wanted to take me to a different demon who would’ve spent days torturing me and taking me apart to learn my secrets. The less people that know my secrets the better.”

“Fine, then. Let me take a guess. You have some grand destiny to play in the matters of this apocalypse that they were talking about and somehow you know way more than you are supposed to and you screwed their evil plans up. How am I doing so far?”

Dean shrugged. “Pretty good.”

“So they want you and you hunt them and that’s why you act so weird and come to school hurt and I can’t believe that any of this is really happening!”

Dean grabbed her by the shoulders. “Emily, take a deep breath. You’re going to hyperventilate if you don’t calm down.”

“I think I’m entitled to a panic attack right about now, Dean.”

“Yeah, you are. But trust me when I say that they suck and should probably be avoided.”

Emily let out a short laugh. “Okay, I’ll give you that.” After a moment of quiet, she spoke softly. “Is it all over now? Can… can I just go home?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’ll be fine. Lilith was the only one who set her sights on using you to get to me and she’s dead now. You’ll be safe.”

“Okay. Can I get a ride home please? I’d rather not walk.”

“I’ll take you home.” Dean saw his mom walk into the room. He hadn’t even realized that she’d come back downstairs.

“Thank you, Mrs. Winchester.” Emily walked over to the front door and opened it. Then she turned back and looked at the others in the room. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean watched as she left the house. Lilith was dead and everyone had survived. But now part of his secret was out and he hoped that it hadn’t just cost him the only school friend he’d ever managed to make throughout two childhoods.


	92. Surviving a Long Day

Chapter Ninety-Two: Surviving a Long Day 

The day at school on November first was just about one of the longest that Dean had ever had to suffer through. All throughout the day, he kept glancing at the two empty desks in the classrooms. One belonged to a girl who’d spent God knew how long being possessed by a demon and was now dead, with her body disposed of by Cas somewhere that it would never be found. And the other desk belonged to his friend (possibly former friend) who had no doubt faked illness that morning to get out of attending school the day after being severely traumatized by being introduced to the dark world of the supernatural. And amidst all of his inner thoughts and reflections of the events of the previous night’s encounter, he had to sit through listening to all the other kids go on about how wonderful their Halloweens were. By lunchtime, when Dean was sitting by himself picking disinterestedly at his corned beef sandwich, the young hunter had had enough of the entire day. He just wanted to go home and pretend the whole previous night hadn’t happened.

It was strange. After a major victory like killing Lilith, he should feel like celebrating, not sulking. Yet he knew that that was exactly what he was doing. He blamed it on his nine year old emotions. He’d gotten better over the years at suppressing the feelings and impulses that came with his physical age, but Dean was smart enough to recognize that he wouldn’t fully be himself until he was once again of legal drinking age. And that meant putting up with crap like tears burning behind his eyes when he considered the fact that the one friend he’d managed to make here that wasn’t linked to hunting and his old life probably was never going to speak to him again unless it was to yell at him or to accuse him of screwing up her life and sanity. 

With a barely suppressed groan of annoyance at himself, Dean got up and threw his barely touched lunch into the trash bin and left the cafeteria. He knew that he was having difficulties keeping his emotions from being reflected on his face and didn’t want his classmates to notice. He was already sometimes teased about his younger age, the last thing he needed was to be labeled as a baby.

Dean found his way to the boys’ restroom and went into one of the stalls. The entire room was empty, except for himself. Even Cas was waiting invisibly out in the hall for him as he always did, since Dean didn’t appreciate the angel following him in when he was going to use the urinals. So, finally alone with his feelings and frustrations, the boy turned to face the side of the stall and then repeatedly slammed his small fists into the wall. He did it over and over until the skin on his knuckles had split and was dripping blood, and then Dean let his arms fall to his sides and thumped his head into the stall. The young hunter breathed through the aftermath of his impromptu workout, turned around, and leaned against the side of the small restroom cubical. Awesome. Now he was still all emotional _and_ his hands hurt. 

Dean was just getting ready to leave the stall when he heard the door to the boys’ room open. He hesitated and listened to the footsteps that entered. By the heaviness and stride, the hunter could tell that the person was an adult, not a student. Great, just what he needed. A member of the staff to see his injured knuckles and question him. What the hell? Didn’t the staff have their own restrooms? Oh well, he’d just wait until the teacher went into a stall and then sneak out. But his crappy luck seemed to be holding out because the dude didn’t go into a stall, but walked over to the sinks. Dean figured that he’d wait the teacher out but lunch was almost over and being late to his next class would only draw attention to himself. So, with a sigh, the boy flushed the unused toilet, unlocked the stall, opened the door, shoved his ruined hands deep into his pockets, and then headed for the bathroom exit.

“Aren’t you going to wash your hands?”

That voice. It was so damned familiar and just sent shivers down Dean’s spine. But he drew upon years of practice and didn’t let it show as he turned to face the man that he now knew wasn’t a school staff member.

“Didn’t get ‘em dirty.”

The man turned to face him and, sure enough, it was that pompous ass Zachariah. Oh sure the host body was younger but it was the same person. Hell, Dean was willing to bet that he’d recognize the winged freak even in another suit.

“No one can do that and not get their hands dirty.”

“I’m just that good.” Dean responded with a smirk.

“ _Good?_ Is that how you really want to describe yourself?”

Dean shrugged. He was certain that Cas knew what was going on in here and was relieved that his friend hadn’t charged in here. The young hunter wasn’t sure if the other angels knew the truth about Cas yet, like Lilith had, but if not it was best for the rogue angel to keep his distance. “Well, I typically use the word ‘awesome’, but ‘good’ works in a pinch.”

“And would you consider your actions last night to be ‘good’?”

Dean put on a puzzled look. “Last night? Wait, are you one of those guys that don’t celebrate Halloween? Like, a Jehovah’s Witness or something? ‘Cause I swear I don’t worship Satan or nothing. I just like trick or treat and eat the candy afterwards.”

“You know what I’m talking about. We didn’t have eyes on you when you killed Lilith, but we know that it was you. Do you know what you did? What consequences your actions will have?”

Dean dropped all pretenses. “You mean besides all the lives that’ll be saved? And all the future children that she _can’t_ possess? Yeah, I think I understand the consequences of ganking a demon.”

“You understand nothing, boy.” Zachariah took a menacing step forwards, and Dean stood his ground.

“I understand more than you do, douche-bag. Unless there’s something that you want to share with the class?”

“You have no idea who or what I am.”

“Well, since you’re not a demon but you’re still interested in all this crap and you’ve obviously been keeping an eye on me, I’m gonna take a guess and say that you’re an angel. But probably not a very important one.”

Zachariah balled his hands into fists. “My name is Zachariah and I am more important than you can ever hope to be.”

“That’s why everyone is so focused on me and my life and I’ve never heard them even mention your name in passing before.” Dean saw that he was beginning to piss the angel off. Good. “Oh wait, no. That’s not completely true. I think I just saw your name written on the inside of the bathroom stall. Something about you and the lunch lady sitting in a tree…”

“You insolate…”

“Now, now, watch that temper, Zach. I doubt that you’ve been cleared by your superiors to do much more than talk to me for answers. And guess what? I don’t have any. Lilith was a demon, so she was killed. End of story. Why you’re pissed off about this is beyond me. I figured that you feathered types should be kissing my ass for taking out one of your major opponents but hey, maybe you’re a traitor. What do I know?”

“Nothing. You know nothing. And one day I will get the order to grind you into the dirt and I will relish every moment of it.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah? Well, until that day comes, why don’t you get your fat ass out of this building and go back to holding your impotent dick elsewhere while I do all the heavy lifting, okay?”

Suddenly, his entire body felt as though it were on fire and it took all he had not to cry out. But Dean forced himself to remain standing and he continued to keep smirking at the angel.

“You _will_ show me the respect I deserve, boy.”

“You deserve no respect, you bastard.”

The door to the restroom opened and Cas was standing there. Dean felt as though his heart were about to stop. He desperately hoped that Zachariah didn’t know the truth about the other angel.

“Release Dean.” Cas ordered.

Zachariah sneered at the newest member to their little party but surprisingly enough, Dean found the pain that he had been experiencing suddenly cease to be. 

“And what manner of creature are you?” Zachariah inquired. “You hide your true self behind a spell and use magics, but you should know that you are no match for the Heavenly Host.”

“Noted. Now listen to this boy and leave.”

Zachariah was staring at Cas, and Dean knew that the douchey angel was trying to see past his friend’s camouflage. The hunter wasn’t certain how Lilith had figured it out, but apparently Heaven hadn’t been watching him quite as closely as Hell had. 

“Next time we meet boy, the kids gloves will be off.”

“Then I guess next time I’ll just have to kick your enormous ass.” With one final glare, Zachariah left the restroom. Dean looked over at Cas. “Man, I am so ready to go home. This day has just sucked.”

“What exactly did he want?”

“I think he was looking to see why we killed Lilith. If it was just a random demon kill or if we had other motives. It was definitely a fact finding mission but he wasn’t cleared to use force. ‘Course then I had to go and piss him off.”

“You seem to excel at that.”

“So I’m told.”

A sound at the door alerted them and Cas went into stealth mode again. Dean shoved his injured hands into his pockets while the older boy walked past him and into a stall. Then he made his way over to a sink and rinsed the excess blood from his knuckles. After carefully dabbing them with a paper towel, he left the boys’ room just as the bell rang and ran down the hall to his next class.

That night, after Sammy was in bed, Dean told his parents about the encounter. He tried to skim over the fact that Zachariah had caused him pain, but Cas offered up that information, seemingly oblivious to the boy’s glare. When they were done with their story, his parents were quiet for a moment before his mom spoke.

“Do you think they’ll make a move soon?”

“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged. “It’s obviously not up to Zach, or I’d be dead on the floor of the boys’ bathroom. But they definitely want info and the fact that they’d confront me directly the day after Lilith’s death means that they’re ready to step up their game. I mean, up until now they’ve stayed in the shadows and watched from afar.”

“But you made it seem like killing Lilith was just like killing any other demon. Like you didn’t know the significance.” His dad pointed out.

“’Course I did, but I can’t be sure if he bought the act. Even if he did, they certainly know the repercussions of her death and will want to get things back on track.”

“Is that even possible?” His mom asked.

“I don’t see how.” Dean admitted. “But trust me when I say that neither side is gonna be willing to back down. They both got their hearts set on the whole end of the world thing and they will try to get a plan B together. Out best hope now is that their plan Bs conflict with each other and they don’t join forces. ‘Cause I think we’d really be screwed then.”

“Do you think this Zachariah will be back?”

“Definitely. And when he does, he’s not just gonna be spewing threats and making my guts burn. He’ll be a real threat. We’re gonna have’ta be prepared.”

“We will be.” His dad assured him. “But in the meantime, you should get upstairs and get to bed. You’ve got school in the morning.”

“And won’t that be fun.” Dean muttered.


	93. My Business

Chapter Ninety-Three: My Business 

“It means nothing, Dad.” Dean insisted, and tried to push past John to follow his little brother up the stairs.

But there was just no way that the father was going to let his eldest son pass. With a firm hand held against the boy’s chest, he stopped Dean’s forward movement and gave the slightest of pushes back. He really didn’t want to get into a physical confrontation with his son, but he needed answers. He’d let this discussion slide almost two days now. John hadn’t wanted to force the issue during the aftermath of Halloween night and then the day after had held its own problems with the appearance of the angel that had ambushed Dean at his school, but now another day had passed, and they’d sat through dinner together without the topic coming up, and John couldn’t wait any longer. So, once Sammy had sat down to watch some cartoons, the hunter had taken a deep breath and brought up the questions that had been on his mind since the fight with Lilith. As he’d predicted, Dean had been evasive and when that tactic had failed him, the boy had excused himself and made a beeline for the stairs. Sammy, sensing something was up, joined his brother and ran up first. Luckily, John had somehow managed to cut off the escape route before the older Winchester brother made it there.

“If it meant nothing, then it wouldn’t’ve been brought up at all. And you wouldn’t be avoiding my questions now.”

“Fine! It means something. But I’m not in the sharing mood right now. So drop it.”

“I can’t, Dean.” John insisted.

“Yeah, you can. You just don’t want to. You want to push and pry and get into my business. Well, guess what? It’s _my_ business! And I don’t want anyone in it.”

“This doesn’t just concern _you_ , Dean. This whole thing is linked to all of us. Hell has been after you for years and now Heaven is too. And apparently it’s all because of your destiny which you know all about but refuse to tell us. We need to know, Dean.”

“No you don’t!” Dean practically screamed.

“Dean, what did it mean when they called you the ‘Righteous Man’?”

“Nothing. It means nothing. We changed the future, so it just doesn’t matter anymore.” John saw that his son was on the verge of tears and felt awful for pushing him like this, but it had to be done. 

“It _does_ matter because both sides are still trying to use you to get what they want. They still want you to fulfill this destiny of yours and we can’t protect you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

“Well, I never asked you to protect me in the first place! I never wanted you involved in all this crap! So just leave me the hell alone!” Dean yelled. And then before John could stop him, the boy ran out the front door, slamming it behind him.

John’s first instinct was to run after his son, but a quick look around let him know that Cas was gone too. The angel would take care of Dean until he cooled down enough to come back. And then maybe they could talk things over. Or they’d just engage in round two.

“That could’ve gone better.”

“It also could’ve gone worse.” Mary observed. “I mean, neither of you pulled a weapon.” 

John sighed. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like cornering him like that, and I know that whatever it was that he is keeping secret couldn’t possibly be pleasant to talk about, but I wish he’d understand that we need to know these things. I mean, all of our opponents know and Dean’s been hiding this from us since he got here. It’s not like we didn’t know that he was keeping secrets, but he’s lived through his role in the apocalypse and knows exactly what to expect. That kind of information can prove invaluable to us now that we have to determine what the angels and demons will be planning. They want him to fulfill this mystery role, Mary. How can we help him stop that if we don’t even know what it is?”

His wife placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I agree with you, John. But think about some of the other secrets we’ve learned about our son. From what he lived through as a child to the fact that he spent forty years in Hell. These are things that are just not easy for him to talk about. And if there is something he is refusing to share, it may mean that to him, it is worse than the things that we already know.”

“Worse than forty years in Hell?” John asked skeptically.

“It seems impossible, but if it is, that would go a long way to explaining why he took off rather than sitting down for a heart to heart. You know, besides the fact that he’s a Winchester male.”

“I’m not _that_ bad.” John protested.

Mary smiled at him and kissed his cheek. “Of course you’re not dear.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean wasn’t quite sure where he was running to until he got to his destination. Once he reached the playground, he slowed to a walk and started dragging his feet through the wood chips, scattering them along his path. He knew that Cas was following him invisibly, there was no way he’d have been allowed out of the house by himself and quite frankly he was comforted by the thought that he had backup if it was needed, but Dean was glad that the angel was hanging back and staying out of his business. He was certain that his friend would encourage him to share the sordid details of his crappy destiny with his parents and the young hunter just wasn’t up for that. Nope, he just wanted to be left alone.

The boy tried sitting on the swings (since it was after dark, it seemed that he had the whole place to himself) but he was too filled with emotional energy to sit still for long. After pacing back and forth for a bit, Dean found himself in front of one of the newer jungle gyms that he always helped Sammy climb when they came here to play. The street light cast enough light for him to see his own reflection in the unbreakable mirror that was on the side next to where the tunnel slide let out. Dean stared at himself for a moment before balling up a small fist and punching his own image. His barely healed knuckles split once more, leaving bloody streaks on his reflection in a strangely poetic mockery of his own dark inner thoughts. 

“Damn it!” He cried. “Why can’t everyone just leave me the hell alone? Damn it! Damn!” 

Dean dropped down to the ground, with his back pressed up against the hard plastic of the jungle gym, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms crossed over his knees, and his head buried in his arms. Then he allowed himself to cry. He cried for everything he’d lived through in both timelines, for everything he knew was to come, for all his secrets that were destined to eventually come to light, and for reasons that not even he fully understood. 

“Dean?”

Dean’s head whipped up and his tear-blurred vision made out the form of Emily standing just a couple of feet away. Cursing himself for not hearing her approach, the young hunter used his arm to wipe his face.

“Emily, what are you doing here?”

“I come here to think.”

“After dark?”

“Hard to think when there’s a ton of little screeching kids running around.”

“Good point.” Dean conceded. 

“What are you doing here?” Emily asked, looking over his shoulder at the bloody mirror.

“Beating the crap outta the jungle gym.” He responded.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it looks like you lost.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah well, demons I can handle, but apparently playground equipment can kick my ass.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s your ass that got injured.” Emily commented, staring at his bloody knuckles.

“How long have you been here?” 

“Since before you got here. I was hiding out in the old jungle gym over there. And before you ask; yeah, I saw and heard the whole thing.”

“Awesome.” Dean commented and dropped his head back onto his knees. He was incredibly embarrassed that the girl had caught him crying. He’d known that Cas had seen him, but the angel had seen him at his lowest and Dean knew that it would never be mentioned unless he himself brought it up. But for Emily to have seen his breakdown…

“So, you want to tell me what’s bothering you so much that the playground has to suffer?” She asked.

“Nope.” He responded. “What are you out here thinking about?”

“You, actually.”

“Wow, I feel special.”

Emily laughed. “Well, I know that if I fake being sick to get out of going to school one more day, my mom will take me to the doctor and I don’t think fake coughing and holding the thermometer under hot water will work then. So, I decided that I needed to think things through before I went back to classes and saw you tomorrow.”

“Guess I didn’t give you that time. Sorry.”

“Well, I could’ve stayed in hiding and just ignored you if I wanted to. But my favorite thinking spot just wasn’t working tonight anyways. And you looked like you needed help more than me.”

“No, I just needed to get the hell outta my house.”

Emily’s eyes went wide. “Were you guys under attack?”

Dean chuckled. “Nah. Unless you count my privacy being under attack.”

“I don’t understand.”

The boy sighed. “All that crap you heard about me and my destiny on Halloween night? Well, some of it not even my dad had heard of before. And now he wants to know all of my secrets and some of it is none of his damned business.”

“How does your dad not know? How do you know about your destiny anyways? Was it that Cas guy?”

Dean shook his head miserably. “If only it were that simple.”

“So, now your dad wants to know everything and you don’t want him to. Is your destiny really that awful? I mean, you fight demons. I figured the whole ‘Righteous Man’ thing was that you’re going to stop them from destroying the world someday.” Then her eyes widened once again. “Or are you going to die or something in some grand final battle?”

“No, I die long before the final battle.” Dean muttered. At her look, he sighed. “Why are you even talking to me? And don’t give me that ‘you need help more than I do’ bullcrap line. I freaked the hell outta you and you’ve been avoiding me for two days. Why approach me now?”

“Because when I saw you here I realized that it wasn’t _you_ that scared the hell outta me. It’s your world. And I guess I live in that world too, but never knew it until now. And yeah, it’s your fault that I know about it now, but you seem just as messed up about all this crap as I am, so I figured that maybe talking with each other might help.”

“What if I don’t wanna talk.”

“Then this’ll be a very one-sided conversation, I guess.”

Dean snorted. “Well, you _do_ seem to like the sound of your own voice.”

Emily gently kicked him in the shins. “You’re such a dork.” Then she dropped to the ground next to him. “But you were saying that you were going to die?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, but not anytime soon. Well, I guess since things’ve changed, that means I could bite it at any moment, but it wasn’t supposed to happen until I was older.”

The girl looked a bit unnerved. “How do you even live with that kind of knowledge? I mean, I’m struggling with the concept that demons are real and you’re sitting here chatting about knowing your own destiny and how you’re going to die and… you just… I don’t know, Dean. You seem a little too well adjusted.”

“Right. That’s why I’m sitting here with bruised and bloody knuckles.”

“Well, you _are_ only human. And you’re just a kid. Speaking of which, how long have you known about all of this?”

“Technically, this all started five years ago today.” Dean replied.

Emily gasped. “But… but you would’ve only been what? Four?”

“That’s why I seem semi-well-adjusted. Plenty of time to adjust.”

“If you know how you are supposed to die, can’t you stop it?”

“The problem isn’t me dying. My parents already know about that part of my destiny. There’s other stuff that goes with it. Really bad stuff. Things I do, things I’ve done, that I can’t admit to them. Not without losing them. These past few years have been great and I just don’t want to be alone again.”

“Again?”

“Never mind.” Dean shook his head, upset that he’d opened up and let some stuff slip out unintentionally. 

After a moment, he realized that Emily was staring at him. Right into his eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was low and filled with emotion. “You’ve seen it somehow, haven’t you? Your own future. Your destiny. All the bad stuff that you talked about, you’ve actually seen it.”

Dean looked away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, I really don’t. But I know that I’m right.”

Dean shrugged, not having the energy to argue. “I can’t tell you everything.”

“You don’t have to. Quite frankly, I don’t think I want to know everything. I’m sure there are some things that would scare me to the point where I would never sleep again. But if you have seen and experienced your own future, can’t you change it?”

“I have. And I pray that things turn out very different this time around. But my dad still wants all the details because he claims that it’ll help him keep me safe from Hell’s plans that they may make now that I screwed them over. But I can’t tell him. He’ll hate me.” Dean thought over, for about the millionth time, how his father would react if he knew all the things that his son had done while in Hell. The boy shivered. No. His parents could never know.

“It can’t be that bad, can it? You’re not a bad person, Dean. So, you have a crappy destiny? That’s Hell’s fault, not yours.”

“You don’t understand.”

“So tell me.”

“Thought you didn’t want to know.” He countered.

“Thought you didn’t want to talk.” She shot back.

“I don’t. But you just wouldn’t shut up and that somehow became contagious.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Look, the short version is that I end up being forced into a position where I do some stuff that I’m not too proud of. And that starts a chain reaction of events that just never seems to end.”

“Well, if you’re forced into it, then you aren’t to blame, Dean. So, stop beating yourself up. I mean, it hasn’t even happened yet, right? You may have seen it, but you changed the events and you’re risking your own life to kill demons so in my book that makes you one of the good guys.”

“You only say that ‘cause you don’t know the whole story.”

“I say it because it’s true. You came after me on Halloween without any weapons or backup, knowing how dangerous that demon was and knowing what her plans were for you. You’re kind of a hero.”

Dean smiled. “Hero, huh? Wow, that’s a step up from a dork.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. You’re totally still a dork. But you’re a heroic dork.”

The young hunter laughed. “So what, you think I should tell my parents everything?”

“I can’t tell you what to do. I get your concern. I mean, I don’t even like showing my mom my report cards when my grades drop below a C. But I think your parents know that you’re a good guy and they won’t judge you by your destiny or what Hell might have planned for you. And I also doubt that your dad is just going to let the subject drop. So, you can either tell them everything or part of the truth. But you have to know that everything will probably come out at some point. And if it’s not from you, it might be worse.”

Dean nodded. He wasn’t quite ready to accept that she was right yet but he decided to at least consider her words. As he glanced over at her, he noticed something.

“Well, that’s new.” He mentioned, pointing to the cross she now wore around her neck.

Emily fingered the necklace. “Yeah. I’ve had it for a while but I was never really that religious. I mean, I believe in God and all, but it’s never been a big part of my life. But now… I just figured I could use all the protection I could get.” At Dean’s look, she sighed. “Wearing a cross doesn’t provide any real protection, does it?”

“Not really. But if it makes you feel better, then it’s worth it. Besides, there is a God, so you were right about that at least. And I have something for you that will protect you.” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. He placed it in Emily’s hand.

“What is this?” She asked.

“It’s an anti-possession charm. If you keep it with you, demons can’t ever possess you. I got one too. That one was my mom’s, but her and my dad got the symbol tattooed on themselves a couple years back, so I took this one and was going to give it to you the next time I saw you.”

“Tattoos?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna do that too when I’m old enough, but I figure that nine is a bit too young to be getting inked.”

“Just a bit.” She agreed. “Thanks for this. I’ll have to make sure my mom doesn’t see it or she’ll freak out thinking I’m into witchcraft or Satan worship or something, but it will be nice to know that I won’t end up like Amanda.”

“Most demons don’t possess kids anyways. But we won’t be young forever.”

“Does that other charm you always wear have any significance?”

Dean reached down to grasp the amulet that he never took off. “It’s very important, but only to me.”

“Maybe one day I can hear that story?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay.” 

The two of them sat in silence for a while.

“My ass is freezing.” Dean commented.

Emily giggled. “You have such a way with words.”

“Well, according to all my school transcripts, I _am_ a genius.”

“You better be. Because I’m still relying on copying your schoolwork to pass all of my classes.”

They both laughed. But then Dean got serious. “I’m sorry for dragging you into all of this, Emily.”

“You didn’t mean for me to get attacked that night.”

“No, but I should’ve known that it would be dangerous for you to even get to know me. I shouldn’t have let you get close. I should’ve known better than to think that I could have a friend.”

“Yeah well, it’s too late now. We’re friends and we’ll just have to deal with it. I mean, I’m in danger whether I know you or not, right? Demons could kill anyone in the world whenever they want. At least this way I have my own personal hero.”

“So I can get you out of trouble after I get you into it?”

“Pretty much.” Emily confirmed. “Besides, I’m told that I do a good job at finding trouble all on my own. I do have one question, though.”

“So long as it’s not another personal one, feel free to ask.” Dean invited.

“Are demons the only monsters out there that you hunt? Or are there other things too?”

“There’s other things too.”

“Ghosts?”

“Yep. And a ton of other crap that you don’t want to know about.”

“So, your ‘dog bite’…”

“A vampire.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open. “Oh god! Really?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it. I’m never sleeping again.”

Dean laughed. “You know, this stuff was real your entire life. You’re actually safer now that you know about it. I mean, just as long as you keep your head and don’t panic.”

“I don’t feel very safe.”

“If you see anything odd, just tell me. My family and I will look into it, okay?”

“Okay.” She still looked shaken, but Dean had a feeling that she’d be alright. After all, it had only taken her two days to come around and not be afraid of him after the traumatizing events of Halloween.

Dean stood up and reached down to help her up. He hissed a bit in surprise and pain as her fingers wrapped around his injured knuckles. “We should probably get back to our homes now. You know, before our families freak out.”

Emily shrugged. “My parents think I’m tucked in bed fast asleep. I snuck out my window.”

Dean laughed. “Well, you better go back before they go in to check on you. And I better head back and face the music.”

“Good luck.”

“I’ll need it.”

With a small wave, Dean headed off back towards his house. He still didn’t want to let his parents know the truth about what Heaven and Hell had planned for him and he certainly didn’t want to reveal what he’d done, but he couldn’t avoid his dad and mom forever. And Emily was right about one thing; they were going to find out eventually. All of his secrets were coming out one by one and Dean wondered how long it would be before his parents found something out that would forever change how they saw and treated him.


	94. Meetings

Chapter Ninety-Four: Meetings 

It was long after dark when Mary heard the front door open and the barely perceptible sound of small feet creep into the house. As the door closed, she placed a hand on her husband’s arm to keep him seated on the couch. The last thing that their family needed at the moment was for him to ambush their son the moment he stepped inside. Mary really didn’t want the boy to feel like he had to spend the entire night out God knows where. She felt John’s muscles tense under her hand, but he didn’t stand, so she counted it as a victory.

They waited in the living room to see if Dean was going to come in to confront them or if he’d just go on up to his room. Mary wasn’t quite sure which outcome she’d prefer. On the one hand, any conversation at this hour after what had happened previously might not end well. But on the other hand, if he ignored his father and went to bed, John would be even more upset come tomorrow and then the conversation might go even worse. So, she just stayed still and prayed that things would work out for the best.

A moment later, small, hesitant footsteps announced Dean’s arrival in the living room. He walked over to stand in front of them, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and shifted uncomfortably for a moment. Mary cast a sidelong glance at her husband and saw that he was practically biting his tongue to keep from saying anything, but they had decided beforehand that Dean should be the one to open any conversation that they’d have. 

“Sorry I took off earlier. Just needed to clear my head. Would’ve just gone to my room, but that wasn’t really an option.”

At the semi-accusation, she felt John tense up further.

“Dean…” Her husband warned.

“Look, I still think it’s none of your business, ‘cause we changed stuff and that future is never gonna happen, but I’ll tell you a little. Enough so you’ll be prepared for whatever plans may come up. The first thing that you need to know is that the whole ‘Righteous Man’ thing is related to my time in Hell and I really don’t wanna get into details about it. And it doesn’t matter because we’ve already decided years ago that no one in this family is gonna be selling their souls, so I won’t be in Hell and that won’t happen. But the first time around, it was important to both Heaven and Hell.” Dean took a deep breath before continuing. “See, Lucifer is stuck down in the pit in a cage. He can’t escape and no one can just waltz in and get him out. But for the apocalypse to take place, he has to get his ugly ass out and fight the archangel Michael. Hell wants Luci to win, Heaven is backing Mike. As for us here on earth, we’d rather not get involved at all since their prize fight will leave our world in ruins. Now, to spring Lucifer, sixty-six seals have to be broken. The seals are like, tasks Hell has to do or events that have to take place. The real crappy thing is that there are way more than sixty-six seals and in most cases it doesn’t matter which seals Hell chooses to break or in what order, so stopping them was pretty much impossible. But there were two seals that were specific. The first and last. The final seal was actually killing Lilith. But now, with her gone, there can be no final seal. So, no apocalypse.”

Mary and John looked at each other and then back to Dean. “That’s great news, Dean. But what does this have to do with you?”

Now Dean looked severely uncomfortable. “I mentioned that there were _two_ important seals. I explained the final one, but the first one… it was me. I broke it when I was in Hell. I… I didn’t know… not for a long time after, but it was all my fault. That’s part of my big destiny. To go to Hell, be tortured, and start the apocalypse. Awesome, huh?”

Mary stared at her son as tears gathered in his eyes and he wiped at them angrily. “I don’t understand, how did you…”

“It doesn’t matter, Mom! It’s not going to happen again. I won’t screw up that badly again, I promise.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize that he was blaming himself. Mary placed one hand gently on his shoulder and the other on the side of his face. “Dean, whatever happened to you in Hell, it wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then tell us.” John spoke up.

“No.” Dean refused. “You know enough about it.”

“Then why don’t you tell us what the rest of your destiny is.”

“What?”

John reached out and took Dean’s hand, noticing that the knuckles were bruised and split. “You said that this whole ‘Righteous Man’ thing was _part_ of your destiny. What else is there?”

Dean seemed to think for a moment and then sighed. “You know that angels use vessels just like demons do, except they need permission. Well, the more powerful angels need certain specific vessels or they’ll burn through them in no time at all.”

“Okay.” Mary wasn’t quite sure where Dean was going with this, but she was beginning to get a sick feeling in her stomach.

“Well, if Lucifer got released and there was going to be the big fight and all… uh…” Dean hesitated for a moment and then seemed to mentally shrug before continuing in one quick rush. “I’m supposed to be Michael’s vessel.”

After a moment of stunned silence, John spoke up. “And you’re telling us this now? You ran into Michael four and a half years ago! That would’ve been a great time to have shared this little secret.”

“Yeah well, it’s my secret, Dad! And I wasn’t ready to share. Maybe you think talking about this crap is easy, but it’s not. Each story of my whole freakin’ life is linked to another story and another; each more painful than the last. I talk about Michael and it brings up a whole crapload of other things I’d rather not dwell on. You try dealing with this and tell me how much you wanna sit down for nightly heart to hearts!”

Mary decided that it was definitely time for her to interject, before John responded and this whole thing got out of control. “No one’s saying that any of this is easy for you, Dean. We just want to be able to help you to the best of our abilities, and we can’t do that if we aren’t informed.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Well, consider yourselves informed. Can I go to bed now?”

The boy didn’t even wait for a response before turning and leaving the room. When they were alone, the couple once again faced each other.

“He’s still hiding things from us.” John insisted.

“He’s over thirty years old, and most of those years are made up of unpleasant experiences. And that doesn’t even count the forty years spent in Hell. I’m not sure that we’ll even hear it all. I’m not entirely sure I want to. And he’s afraid, John. Whatever he’d holding back, he’s afraid to tell us.”

“And if we need to know?”

“Then we’ll find out eventually. But we need to remember that when we do, we have to be there for him.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” John insisted.

“But that’s not how it seems to Dean right now. And pushing it won’t help. Pushing will only push him away.”

“That’s not what I want.”

Mary smiled. “I know. But that means that we have to tread carefully when we want to get answers from him. And we’ll have to be even more careful of how we react after we get those answers.”

“What do you think his secret is?”

“I don’t know. For him to admit to believing that he’s responsible for starting the apocalypse but to still be holding something back… it has to be something pretty bad, John. I’m scared for him. I don’t want him to have to carry this stuff around or to have to worry about it ever happening again.”

“We won’t let it happen again. And you yourself have said that we’ll help him through anything, so don’t go getting worked up. Dean won’t be alone through any of this.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

“He’ll have to be left alone at some point, and that’s when we make our move.” Zachariah announced. “He may think and act like he’s something special, but he’s just a human child. We can easily bend him to our will.”

The angel looked over to the archangel that was most likely to support his point of view. He didn’t look surprised, but did appear relieved when Raphael nodded in agreement. “We need to get plans back on track. And soon. Human lives don’t last long and if we miss this generation, who knows how long we will be forced to wait before conditions are correct once more. We cannot allow this child to corrupt our chance at paradise.”

Other, lesser angels, now joined in, raising their voices to confirm that they felt the same. They would never have spoken up if an archangel hadn’t expressed those thoughts first. 

“Then I will go, watch him, and bring him at the first opportunity. And we will force him to cooperate.” There was a gleam in Zachariah’s eye that would certainly make their Father weep.

It was time for him to step in and stop this madness. 

“You will do no such thing.”

Michael was pleased that though he had not raised his voice at all, he now had the attention of all the angels.

Raphael was the first to question him. “Why do you protest?”

“Why would I not? He speaks of torturing a small child to obtain information. Is that not the same plan that the demons have attempted to put into play all these years? Are we not better than them? Or do you all wish to join our brother who fell so long ago?”

There was an uncomfortable murmur at the offhand mention of Lucifer. 

“He’s ruined our Father’s plans!” Zachariah argued.

“That is how it appears. And those plans will be put back into place.”

“And that’s what we are going to do.” The lesser angel announced smugly.

“Not the way you are planning.” Michael ordered, allowing a hint of a threat into his voice.

Raphael chose that moment to reenter the conversation. “Michael, you yourself interfered with Dean Winchester’s life years ago. This is no different.”

“It saddens me that you see it that way, but there is a world of difference. I merely offered protection in exchange for his agreement to help us later in his life. A simple deal. What you speak of goes against everything our Father has ever wished.”

“Our Father wished for a paradise.” Raphael pointed out. “And this boy has stopped his plans.”

“Dean Winchester is special and unique. But he is no match for our Father. One boy cannot destroy the plans of God. The mere thought of that is ridiculous. Perhaps what is happening now is happening for a reason. The way you are all acting at this moment leads me to believe that we may not be worthy of paradise yet. Or perhaps a way to achieve our goals will present themselves within the proper amount of time and all will proceed as we have wished. Either way, Dean Winchester is my vessel and no one here will touch him. Understood?”

“You are making a mistake.” Raphael accused. 

Zachariah glared, but was not brave enough to object. The rest of the lesser angels gave their consent to his plan, whether they agreed with him or not. None would openly stand against him without the backing of an archangel. Michael knew he’d have to keep a close eye on Raphael.

“I will continue to watch the Winchesters closely. We still need to learn what they know, through non-violent ways, to figure out what our plans should be. And perhaps through all this, we will learn what our Father wishes from us. For that, and that alone, should be our goal.”

As the other angels dispersed, Michael reached out to try once more to touch his Father’s hand. He felt nothing but was not discouraged. Maybe the other angels would be, but Michael was loyal and would follow his Father no matter what. The others wanted paradise, or power, or other things that had begun to corrupt their motivations. But Michael still strived to please his Father, and there was one thing that had become clear to him; Dean Winchester was somehow important to that goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first meeting between Dean and Michael in this timeline that is mentioned in this chapter is from chapter 39 'Out on a Deserted Road'.


	95. Undead

Chapter Ninety-Five: Undead 

The sound of both shot guns firing simultaneously was deafening, but Bobby supposed that that was better than being eaten alive, so he did his best not to get upset at his now temporarily diminished hearing. He watched as the head of the reanimated corpse in front of him practically exploded, splattering his already semi-gory clothing with blood, bone, and brain matter. The hunter winced and made a half-hearted effort to brush the worst of it off. But before he could even get a little cleaned up, uneven footsteps and a persistent moaning alerted him to the fact that more zombies were on their way. Bobby reloaded quickly and spun to see where the bastards were coming from.

“There are several creatures coming down the south passage.” Castiel announced.

“Uh, there’s even more making their way here up the east hall too.” Dean added.

Bobby strode across the room and took a look down the open doorway that led to the northwest hall. It was the one that they had entered from and he was hoping that it was still clear. But a shuffling sound let him know that more of those undead things were on their way.

“We got those rotted freaks comin' at our asses from all angles!” He warned the others.

“Awesome.” Dean shot back. “Well then, I guess we each guard a door and blow their heads off as they enter.”

Bobby nodded. “Just remember, the spell used to reanimate these corpses was specific. If ya can’t reload the shotgun fast enough and ya gotta use the handgun…”

“Take out the eyes, I know. That’s just bizarre.”

“Well, there’s a reason there’s so much lore ‘bout zombies. It’s all true. Just depends on how the corpse was reanimated as to how ya gotta kill it. This spell says something about seeing the soul through ones eyes.”

“A zombie doesn’t have a soul.” Dean pointed out.

Bobby responded to the boy with a shrug. “Apparently that don’t matter. Ya destroy the eyes, the zombie drops dead.”

“Again.” The young hunter added.

Any further conversation was cut off as the first of the undead creatures entered through the door that Castiel was guarding. Bobby watched as the angel blew its head off with the shotgun. Watching him use that kind of a weapon was strangely unnerving, but it was better than letting them get close enough to use his angel blade. Besides, decapitation wouldn’t work. These zombies could be chopped into tiny pieces, but so long as even one of their eyes remained intact, they would keep moving. 

The hunter turned his attention back to the doorway that he was to watch. He’d known that there was going to be a helluva lot of zombies here, that’s why he’d called in so much backup in the first place, but the sheer number of the undead creatures was bordering on the insane. They’d taken out dozens and dozens of the reanimated corpses and yet there always seemed to be more coming at them from all angles. And that wasn’t even counting the ones that the other two teams had to be eliminating. Bobby didn’t understand why the idjit had thought to make zombies in the first place, or why he’d chosen to make hundreds of them. But at the moment, he was only hoping that their group wouldn’t run out of ammo before the job was finished.

As he leveled his shotgun at the first zombie outline that came lumbering into his view, he heard more loud shouts coming from behind him. Bobby ignored the impulse to check and make certain that Dean was alright. He reminded himself that the small hunter was only a child on the outside and had years’ worth of experience. Of course, that small outer packaging could easily get the boy killed and Bobby knew that he could never let that happen. 

After dropping nine zombies, the hunter was pretty certain that there would be no more coming down his hallway. He turned and saw that Dean was taking aim at a one-eyed zombie with his handgun. A moment later, the eyeless thing fell to the ground. The boy had dropped his shotgun next to his feet even though he still had more ammo for it in his belt. Bobby assumed that the undead creatures had started coming at him too quickly for him to be able to reload the more powerful weapon. A glance at the other doorway showed a zombie very close to Castiel, but the angel now had his sword in his hand and brought it across the thing’s face, destroying both its eyeballs in one blow. Bobby rushed to Dean’s side.

“Nice of you to join the party, old man.” Dean commented, wiping at the blood splatters and sweat on his face.

Bobby looked down the hall. There were about half a dozen zombies still coming. 

“Hey boy, I did my part. You’re the one that’s takin’ yer sweet time.”

“Nah, the zombies just prefer my fresh meat rather than the old tough kind you got.” 

“Well, next time I’ll leave ya to ‘em.” Bobby threatened.

Dean laughed as they both aimed their weapons and fired at the advancing zombies.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Pastor Jim Murphy felt incredibly out of place here on this hunt. Exorcisms, that he could handle. And research; research was good. Great even. But standing in the middle of a room with a gun in his hands shooting at the undead was so far out of his area of expertise that he was asking God at least once a minute what exactly he was doing there. But he already knew the answer to that question. The answer was Dean Winchester. 

Robert Singer had put together this hunting party and it only included those who Dean felt comfortable working with. Those who wouldn’t pass around more rumors of the boy once this job was complete. And while the pastor was pleased to help the child out, he was still quite far out of his comfort zone. Sure, he practiced with firearms just in case he ever needed them. After all, one didn’t surround themselves with hunters and the supernatural without being prepared. But still, an intense combat situation such as this was just not a typical day for him. Luckily, the Winchesters knew this and were taking point in the fight.

Mary took out two zombies that entered the room and then John would take over as she reloaded. Then they’d switch off again so that John could put more shells in his shotgun. The only time Jim would have to act was on the off chance that a zombie slipped past the couple. Well, at least that was the case in this room. As they walked down the halls, John took point and Mary watched the rear. But other areas had become free-for-alls with them all firing and praying that they’d live through the confrontation (well, at least Pastor Jim prayed). 

“I think that’s it.” Mary announced. 

“Where to now?” John asked. “This room seems to be a dead end. And while that worked out great for getting the zombies off our asses, it doesn’t do much for getting to our goal.”

“We don’t even know where we’re going.” Jim felt obligated to point out.

It was true. The abandoned factory and its warehouses were a perfect place for the necromancer to set up shop and seemed to be a nice place for him to hide. Their hunting party’s goal was to eliminate all of the reanimated corpses and to find the man responsible and convince him to stop. They were well on their way to completing step one, but finding the person behind all of this was proving to be a bit tricky. Also, the pastor was hoping that none of the hunters he was working with would take it upon themselves to try and permanently stop the necromancer. No matter what he’d done, he was still a human and didn’t deserve death.

“We’ve already cleared the warehouses.” Mary commented. “So he’s got to be in this labyrinth of a building.”

“I swear that whoever designed this factory wanted its workers to get lost while they were on the job.” John commented.

“The place is rather large.” Jim agreed. “But I’d be willing to bet that the man that we’re looking for is probably in one of the offices.”

“It would be the most comfortable place.” Mary agreed. “So should we retrace our steps out of here?”

“Let’s go.” John led the way out.

Jim followed, clutching his gun tightly. Yeah, he didn’t mind helping out, but he really couldn’t wait to get back to his small, calm church.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Caleb had no clue as to why he was involved in this hunt. Bobby Singer had called him and told him that they needed another hunter and that he’d been recommended. But he hadn’t said who had recommended him and from what he had overheard it hadn’t been the Harvelles, which were the only ones here that he knew. He’d never met Pastor Jim, that Castiel guy, or the Winchester family so he didn’t know why any of them would’ve requested him to join them on this job. But someone had, so here he was; shooting the hell out of a bunch of zombies and trying to figure out how demented that couple had to be to bring their nine year old kid with them on a hunt. Seriously, and people thought he was a bit young to be in this business. At least Caleb was almost old enough to vote and had waited until he had his driver’s license before he had started killing monsters. Well, if you didn’t count the salt and burn he did when he was fifteen…

A sound behind him made him spin around and lift his weapon. Sure enough, a second later, the hunter saw a zombie shuffle around the corner they’d just passed. 

“We’re being followed!” He called out.

“I think we got some coming from our twelve o’clock as well.” Bill Harvelle informed him.

“This day just keeps getting better.” He muttered. “Where the hell did this moron get all these corpses?”

“My guess would be a graveyard.” Ellen replied.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Bill asked his wife as he blew the head off of a zombie.

“Oh, I know I am.”

“Are you two going to stop flirting long enough to concentrate on the monsters that want to eat our brains?” Caleb inquired.

“I seriously doubt these things would eat our brains if they got a hold of us.” Ellen informed him.

“Yeah,” Bill added. “They’d probably tear our limbs apart but their teeth are mostly rotted out so they’d have a hard time chowing down on us.”

“Thanks. I feel so much better.” Caleb rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed with them. 

In reality, Caleb really enjoyed working with the Harvelles. They reminded him of his own parents back in happier days. Of course, now his dad was dead and his mom was in deep denial of how it happened and had no clue as to what he was out here doing. 

The teenage hunter pulled the trigger and watched as the top half of the closest zombie’s head exploded. Zombies. This hunt was pretty cool. Except of course for the fact that the enemies never seemed to stop coming and they were all in very real danger of dying. 

Caleb had just re-killed the last of the walking corpses when Bill’s radio crackled to life.

“We’re starting to see a slowing of the army of the undead over here. But still no sign of the dude in charge. Anyone else got anything to report?” It was the kid.

“Same over here.” The kid’s father.

“That makes three for three.” Bill confirmed. 

“Okay. I’m thinking we all start heading to the offices from different angles. Puppet Master’s gotta know we’re here and I don’t want him getting away. We’re over by the north side, so we’ll circle around the back way and go in through the break room. That leaves the main hall and the side entrance.” The little guy continued.

“We’re near both points, so I’ve got no preference.” Winchester announced.

“I think we’re pretty close to the main hall.” Bill replied.

“Then we’ll take the side.” The kid’s dad confirmed. 

“Okay. We’re on radio silence now except for emergencies.” The boy ordered. “We hit the offices in fifteen.”

As Bill signed off, Caleb turned to him. 

“So, do I ever get to find out why the nine year old is in charge of this whole damned operation?”

Bill laughed. “Because as far as I can figure, it’s the best way we can assure that this job’ll be a success.”


	96. Pinned Down

Chapter Ninety-Six: Pinned Down 

Dean wasn’t about to admit it to anyone but he was positively exhausted by the time that his small three man team had reached the back entrance to the offices. The constant running, dodging, and firing was wearing down his small body and he knew that he was going to have some rather serious bruises from the recoil on the damned shotgun. Luckily, he’d run out of shells for the thing and was now using the more comfortable handgun. But still, the kickback was causing his muscles to spasm and ache by this point in the seemingly never-ending mission. 

Still, Dean had been put in charge of this mission and he wasn’t about to show any signs of weakness. The small hunter checked his watch. Two minutes ‘til show time. He leaned up against the wall right next to the door and closed his eyes. Two minutes wasn’t nearly enough time to rest and get his energy back, but he’d take what he could get.

“Ya okay, boy?”

“Yep, just trying to visualize how this next part of the hunt is gonna go.”

“Uh huh.”

Dean could tell that Bobby didn’t believe a word that he’d just said, but the older hunter didn’t press it and for that, the boy was grateful. He was aware when Cas came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Dean was getting up the strength to force a smile and assure his friend that he was in fact alright, when he felt a comforting warmth in the spot where the angel was touching his arm. The feeling spread out and then suddenly the boy felt energized, all traces of his previous slump gone. Sure, he still felt all his aches and bruises, but they didn’t seem to matter with the energy he now had surging through his body.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked, his head jerking up. He stared wide-eyed at his friend.

Cas shrugged. “Do you feel better?”

“I thought you couldn’t heal.”

“I can’t. Any wounds you have are still there, as I’m sure you can feel.”

Well, yeah. Dean had already noticed that. “So then…”

“A simple energy transfer.”

“And you’ve never done this before because…”

“Well before, your body was so small that it probably would’ve overloaded your nerves and left you permanently disabled. I felt you were old enough now that it would be safe.”

“Oh. Well, good call on waiting, then. And this’ll be totally awesome when I need to pull all-nighters.” Dean grinned.

“Not especially. It will wear off in about six to seven hours. At that time you will feel worse than you did moments ago.” Cas informed him.

“Ultimate caffeine crash. Awesome.” The young hunter shook his head.

“If you two are done with yer bonding, we got a job ta do.” Bobby interrupted. 

Dean checked his watch. “The old man’s right. It’s show time!”

Bobby and Dean each took a different side of the door and waited as Cas pushed it open and went in first. They were pretty certain that their target wouldn’t be in the first office, but just in case, it was best to send the angel in first. If the guy was armed, it was best that the bullet proof member of their party acted as their shield. Dean followed, with Bobby closing up the rear. 

Just as he’d suspected, the office space was small and empty. But the smell indicated that some of the undead had been through here at one point or another. 

The three of them made their way through the tiny space and into the next office. There they found two zombies. Dead. Their bodies lay on the stained carpet, faces riddled with bullets. Dean glanced at them and motioned for Cas to proceed into the next room. As they got close, he heard the sound of a door being opened and the boy tensed up. They got to the opened door between the offices and, with a look passed between them, entered with weapons held at the ready.

To say that the sight that greeted them was a surprise would be an understatement. Standing across the room were the Harvelles and Caleb, looking equally as shocked. The office that they were standing in was by far the largest that Dean’s group had walked through. It held several bookcases, a large wooden desk, a comfortable looking chair, a plush couch, and the bloody remains of what had to be the necromancer that had started this whole thing. The man had been torn to pieces, some of them seemed to have been chewed on while most were just ripped apart and left on the now rust-colored carpet. 

“Oh, that is just gross.” Caleb commented.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I was gonna suggest we clear off a spot and set up a little picnic area.”

“There is something wrong with you.” Caleb informed him

“So I’ve been told. Several times.”

“How is this possible?” Bill wanted to know.

“Guy obviously had enough power to raise ‘em, but didn’t know what the hell he was doing.” Bobby answered. “Didn’t have any control.”

“But I thought that the spell he used made it so that his magic kept them animated. If he’s dead, shouldn’t they just be… corpses again?” Ellen asked.

“He’s gotta have a talisman or an alter or something.” Dean replied. “So long as that’s still in one piece, the spell is still working.” 

Bobby nodded. “Just what I was thinking.”

“So we have to look for that now?” Caleb asked. “Or do we just go through and finish taking out the zombies?” 

“Getting rid of whatever controls them is our best bet.” Bobby responded. 

“Why? We’ll have to fight off zombies while looking for this thing, right?”

“Possibly.” Dean answered. “But Bobby’s right. ‘Cause if the thing is still powerful enough, it could possibly keep reanimating anyone who dies in the area and we don’t know the range on it. If it’s just this building, it’s no big deal. If it’s the city, it’ll be a problem.”

“Okay yeah, that makes sense.” Caleb agreed. “Any guesses as to where it is?”

“He’d keep it close. If it’s a talisman, it’d be in this room, possibly even on his body.”

They all looked at the mess on the floor. 

“I hope to God that it’s an alter.” Ellen commented.

“You and me both, sweetheart.” Bill nodded.

“Well, we gotta check this room first.” Bobby stated.

“What are we checking for?” Dean heard his dad ask as their group entered the room.

After filling them in, the nine hunters got to work. They pulled all the books off of the shelves, they searched through all of the desk drawers, they tore apart the couch, and pretty much ransacked the entire office, while Bobby and Cas guarded the doors. Finally, they even went through what was left of the corpse. Dean noted that one of the zombies had eaten part of the poor bastard’s face, including his eyeballs, which was why his remains hadn’t been reanimated. But as interesting as that observation was, there was nothing besides gag-worthy bits and pieces left behind for them to discover. The dude must’ve used an alter to bring ‘life’ to the dead.

“So we need to check the rest of this building out to find the alter?” Dean’s father asked.

“Nope.” Bobby replied. “We think this thing through and figure it out.”

“He’d stay close to it and make certain that the zombies wouldn’t be able to trash it.” Dean clarified.

“Also, there are certain things he’d need.” Bobby added. “First, no carpets, ‘cause it’s likely the spell would involve fire.”

“So, not in the offices.” Pastor Jim interjected.

“Right. But close by if he was planning on staying in here.”

“Which he was, if his stock pile of junk food and soda is any indication.” Dean’s mom pointed out.

“The bathroom!” Dean exclaimed. “We passed them on the way in. They’re right off the break room. The door was closed, possibly even locked. The zombies wouldn’t be able to get in and they’re really close by. He probably figured that it was the safest bet.”

“Sounds good.” Bobby approved.

“So we all go together?” Dean’s Mom asked.

“Unless anyone wants to spend more quality time with this guy.” Bobby replied looking at the remains of the necromancer.

Bobby led the way out, with Dean right behind him followed by Cas, Dean’s parents, Pastor Jim, Caleb, Ellen, and Bill bringing up the rear. They had all reloaded their weapons before leaving the room and were ready in case more of the undead had made it to the break room. Sure enough, by the time that they got to the room, there were about a dozen zombies wandering around. Of course, they didn’t stand a chance against nine armed hunters. 

Bobby tried the bathroom door. It was locked. Dean offered to pick it, but no one had the right tools and a shotgun blast was a much quicker way to open it. 

Although they were all pretty certain that the bathroom would be empty, they still proceeded with caution. Once inside, Cas and Bill guarded the door while the others approached the alter that was set up on the long sink counters. 

“Should we destroy it?” Caleb asked.

“Not ‘til I inspect it.” Bobby replied. “Some of these things can be cursed. Also, sometimes destroying it doesn’t stop the creatures that’re already made. We gotta know what we’re up against.” 

Dean looked it over, but admitted to himself that he really didn’t know what the hell he was looking at. There were bones, blood, symbols, a melted candle, a necklace, a clay bowl filled with a nasty smelling substance, and a burned photo. It meant nothing to him.

“So?” He questioned the older hunter after a moment.

“Well, no curse that I can tell. And I’m pretty damned sure that destroying this’ll end the problem.”

“Good!” Bill called from the door “’Cause that thingy must be calling the zombies now that the door’s been opened, ‘cause we got a whole mess of walking corpses heading our way!”

A shotgun blast followed that statement. Then another. And another. 

Dean looked at Bobby and then back at the alter. “So, we trash it?”

“Yep.”

The small hunter darted forward and swiped his arm across the set up, knocking everything over and scattering it everywhere. Most of the stuff tumbled to the floor, a few of the bones fell into the sinks along with the bowl.

“They’re still coming!” Bill shouted. He and Cas backed up into the room as the zombies got closer. If a huge mass of the undead got into the room, the hunters were certain to suffer casualties. 

Now everyone was fanning out and trying to shoot at the zombies as they entered, without accidentally hitting one of their own. But it was starting to become a losing battle. Most of the hunters had run out of shotgun ammo and were relying on handguns. The skill needed to take out both eyes when the targets were in a large, moving group was not easy and the zombies were stumbling over each other and at points crawling into the room. It would only be minutes at most before their party would become overrun.

Dean faced Bobby. “You said that destroying the alter would stop them!”

“It should’ve.”

“What went wrong?”

“I must’ve been wrong. Some of these spells are very similar but even one small difference can change the entire outcome.”

“Or maybe…” Dean watched the zombies. They seemed… slower than before. And that was saying something since zombies weren’t really known for their speed. So, what if they were being effected by the destruction of the alter after all? But there was still something that needed to be done to end them for good. 

“Dean!” His mom called to him. “Fall back! They’re almost at your position!”

And they were. The closest one to him was about two feet away. But if Dean followed her instructions, he’d have to shoot at the undead creatures with the others and that was a fight that the hunters would eventually lose. 

Ignoring his mom, Dean looked around at the items on the floor. He catalogued each one and dismissed it. No. No. No. No. Damn it! What was he missing? 

A hand grabbed his ankle tightly and Dean tried to pull it away. No good. He was yanked down onto the floor and dragged towards the mass of zombies. A shotgun blast rang out and the arm that the hand was connected to was blown off. Dean scrambled to his feet and pulled himself up onto the counter. He tried to ignore everything going on around him. Then he saw it. 

The small hunter snatched up the clay bowl that still held a small amount of the foul unidentifiable substance and threw it down into the sink with all his might. It shattered into pieces and at that moment all of the zombies froze in their spots. Then, as the shards settled to the bottom of the sink and the thick liquid tried to make its way down the drain, the undead fell to the floor and once more became dead.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. It was now truly over.


	97. Unwinding at the Bar

Chapter Ninety-Seven: Unwinding at the Bar 

Sammy spun the barstool around and around, feeling a bit dizzy and sick but glad for something to do besides worry about Dean and his parents. He knew that he shouldn’t worry. Dean was like a superhero or something. His brother might get hurt sometimes, but he always triumphed. Nothing could kill Dean. And everyone knew that Dads and Moms were almost perfect. But still, Sammy couldn’t wait for them to get back.

“Sammy! Wanna play with me?” Jo asked, looking up at him from where she sat on the wooden floor.

“Sure, Jo.” The boy dropped down to land next to the blonde haired little girl. She was a year younger than him and he’d been told that she knew nothing of what was really out there.

“Here, you be blue. I’m red.” Jo handed him the blue board game piece.

Sammy put his token on the start and let Jo take the first card. 

“Yay! Two purples!”

Sammy really didn’t care too much for the game Candy Land. Dean called it ‘lame’, and they played Chutes and Ladders or Go Fish instead. But the candy themed game was one of Jo Harvelle’s favorites so he’d play it to keep her happy while their babysitter, Missouri, finished making their late night snack. 

Sammy picked up a card. Blue. He moved his piece. “Okay. You’re turn.”

“I’m winning!” Jo bragged.

Sammy rolled his eyes like he’d seen Dean do often. Jo acted like such a baby sometimes. 

They’d been playing for a while when Missouri called them to the bar for their food. Sammy climbed up onto a stool while the woman picked Jo up and placed her on the one next to his. They each had a plate of fresh baked sugar cookies, apple slices, and a glass of chocolate milk. 

“When you’re done eating, it’ll be time to go in the back and sleep.”

“I want to wait up for the others.” Sammy informed her around a mouthful of warm cookie.

Missouri made a ‘tsk’ sound and shook her head. “Boy, you are learning all kinds of bad manners from that brother of yours. You chew, you swallow, then you talk.”

The boy swallowed his snack, took a drink and then repeated his request. “May I please stay awake until my family gets back?”

“Oh Sammy, we don’t know when they’ll be back and you and Jo need your rest. They’ll wake you when they return. But you both are going to bed when your food is gone.”

He sighed. “Just another hour?” 

“Last I checked, it don’t take an hour to eat a snack.”

Sammy turned his attention back to the food on his plate, but this time he took smaller bites and chewed much slower. 

“I’m done!” Jo announced a few minutes later. Her cookies were gone and her apples barely touched.

“Jo, you ain’t gonna eat your fruit?”

“No thank you, Miss Missouri. I’m full.”

“You’re full on junk food. Just eat one more apple slice so I feel like a good babysitter, okay?”

“Okay.” The little girl shoved the entire slice in her mouth and chewed, apple bits falling onto the bar top. 

“And Sammy, you got five more minutes to finish and then it’s bedtime. Don’t think I don’t know that you slowed down on purpose.” She pointed to her forehead to indicate that they both knew that he knew that she was psychic. But Sammy also knew that he’d done a poor job at hiding the fact that he was stalling.

The boy sighed and took another bite of his cookie. He’d just resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to go to sleep without knowing how the hunt had gone when he heard a bunch of cars pulling up in the parking lot. And one of them was most definitely the Impala.

Sammy was a blur of motion as he jumped from his stool and ran across the room. He stopped around the halfway point, not wanting to be trampled by the hunters as they entered. The boy wasn’t really all that comfortable around large groups and wasn’t sure what kind of mood they’d be returning in. That question was answered seconds later.

The sound of car doors opening and then slamming shut was followed by excited talking but no sounds of groans or swearing or anything like that. Just a moment later, the front door flew open and Dean entered.

“Dean!” Sammy cried out.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean ran forwards and scooped him up off the floor. “I knew you’d wait up for us.”

“I almost had to go to bed but I ate my snack really slow and I was gonna lay on the cot with my eyes open and listen for the car anyways.” Sammy informed him.

“Didn’t expect any less.” Dean put him down and ruffled his already messy hair. 

“Daddy! Mommy!” Jo ran past them and launched herself at her parents as they entered their bar.

Sammy stepped away from his big brother long enough to hug and kiss his own parents when they stepped through the door. He really wanted to ask how the hunt had gone, but knew that he’d get in trouble since he wasn’t supposed to talk about that kind of stuff in front of little Jo. Which was, in his opinion, stupid. She practically lived in a bar that was filled with hunters. How were they going to keep the supernatural a secret from her? Sammy himself had lived a normal life, yet his family hadn’t been able to hide the truth from him. 

“Everything went well, Sammy.” Dean told him, as though the older boy was reading his mind. “No one got more than a couple bruises.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dean. Want some cookies?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Dean grinned.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

About an hour after they’d gotten to the Road House, Caleb sat at the bar with the other hunters and wrapped his hands around the cold bottle of beer that Ellen had handed him. His only one, she’d warned him, since he was still a few years away from being of legal drinking age. He supposed that when it was gone he wouldn’t be too out of place not drinking in this crowd. Most of the time, large groups of hunters always drank in excess, but not everyone here was. Bobby was downing some whiskey, the Harvelles and John were enjoying beer, Mary drank a light beer, Pastor Jim was sticking to water, Cas had yet to drink anything at all, and Dean was stuck with soda. Of them all, Dean didn’t seem particularly thrilled about his drink, even muttering something about how he’d saved the day and still couldn’t get an adult beverage.

Picking up his bottle, Caleb made his way over to the stool next to Dean’s and sat down. He had to admit that he was curious as all hell about the kid and no one was talking. The boy looked like he could use some company and Caleb wanted answers. Two birds; one stone.

“What’s up, short stuff?”

“By the time I’m sixteen, I’ll be taller than you.” Dean pointed out.

Caleb blinked at the interesting reply. “Ooookaaaaay…”

Dean shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

“You don’t like the ‘short’ comments. Got it.” Caleb nodded.

“And you must think that I’m some sorta whiny jerk for acting like that just now.”

“No, I get it. I really do.” Caleb assured him. “You’re hanging out with hunters and want to be treated like an equal, and I come over and call you out on the fact that you’re a kid. It pissed you off. I get crap all the time because of my age. And I’m old enough to shave.”

“Barely.” Dean smirked.

Caleb laughed. “Okay, _now_ I think you’re a jerk.”

“See, we’re getting to know each other.” Dean remarked as he took a drink of his root beer.

“Not really. I know almost nothing about you.”

“What do you wanna know?”

“What is it about you that inspired seven adult hunters to put you in charge of the hunt that we went on this evening?”

“I’m just that awesome.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Who says I’m not?”

Caleb sighed. “You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you? No one here will answer a damned question I have about you.”

Dean looked up at him and Caleb almost shivered at the look in the kid’s eyes. He’d seen all sorts of horrors. He’d seen the remains of his father when he’d gotten home from school that day… that terrible day. The hunter that had shown up in his hometown the following week had never given him the full details of what had done it, but in the end, it didn’t matter. The creature was dead now and Caleb’s eyes had been opened to the truth. Since that day, he’d seen even more corpses, nasty-looking monsters, and all sorts of horrors. His nights were filled with nightmares, both when he was awake and when he was sleeping. But somehow, looking into the eyes of this nine year old boy, Caleb felt like he was looking at something more terrible than he could’ve ever imagined. Then Dean blinked and the moment passed.

“I was in charge because I know what I’m doing. I have seen and been through more crap than most hunters and I know how to deal with it. I’m certain that you’ve heard some rumors about a kid that hunts because he’s a target for demons? Well, that’s me. And my story is far more involved than that, but I like you too much to put you in danger by giving you any details. But I trusted you to be a part of the team tonight and you didn’t let us down.”

“How did you even know about me?” Caleb asked, trying to process everything. 

“There’s very little I don’t know about.”

“Really?”

“Nah, I just thought that that sounded cool.” Dean grinned. “But I do know about stuff that I can’t really explain to you right now. Maybe one day.”

“You are one strange kid.”

“And you should be glad that I am. Hopefully my weirdness, combined with the weirdness of all you, will one day save the world.”

Caleb laughed. “I’ll drink to that.” He raised his bottle and Dean clinked his against it.

They both took a swig and grinned at each other as though their toast had actually been a promise to one day stop the apocalypse. Caleb had the strangest feeling that this small child could probably do it if he really tried hard enough. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel watched Dean talking with the young hunter and then turned his attention back to Pastor Jim, who was sitting across from him in the small booth. The man had been speaking of how in the past months it had seemed like there had been an increase in demon activity but then he really caught Castiel’s attention when he mentioned that he’d heard of a man who’d claimed that he’d heard an angel. Supposedly the angel had wanted the man to allow him into his body.

“Did you speak with this man?” Castiel asked.

“Not personally.” The pastor admitted. “But I got the call from a colleague who runs a church in a city a little ways away. She says that the guy came to her asking for advice. She wasn’t sure what to make of him and his story and told him that he should read the bible and pray on it. The next day, the man’s wife came to her all upset, saying that her husband had just disappeared. No one has seen or heard from him since.” 

“When did all this happen?”

“November first.”

Castiel nodded. “Have you heard of any other similar stories?”

Pastor Jim stared at him for a moment. “Similar stories? You believe all this, don’t you? You believe that this man is out there somewhere with an angel using his form. And you want to know how many are out there. So my question is why? Why do you need this information?”

“Because not everyone claiming to serve God, actually does serve our Father.”

Jim nodded thoughtfully. “Truer words have never been spoken. But angels?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“You’ve met them.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“What are they like?”

Castiel wasn’t sure how to answer. “Like humans, they vary. They are all convinced that they are doing the right thing but unfortunately they make mistakes. They had so much potential to do good, to make our Father proud, and instead gave in to their own ambitions. Angels are powerful and beautiful but still flawed.” He looked up and realized that Pastor Jim was staring at him. He knew that he’d slipped and let a bit too much emotion into his voice and expression. That always happened when he reflected on his brothers and sisters. 

“You’re an angel.” The pastor whispered. 

Castiel didn’t insult the man’s intelligence by denying it. “Yes. But you cannot tell a soul. I am hiding from both Heaven and Hell to help Dean. That is why I don’t use my full powers.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Nor do you need to. But you care for Dean, as do I. So, to keep him safe, you will keep my secret.”

Jim nodded. “Alright.”

“Good.”

“So, you’re possessing someone right now?” Pastor Jim questioned.

“No.” Castiel shook his head. “This vessel is empty but for me. The man who occupied it was a good man but he… we died years ago. His soul was allowed to move on to Heaven when the vessel was restored.”

“Oh.”

“Do you have any other questions?” Castiel wanted to know.

The pastor looked at him and smiled. “Only about a million.”


	98. Another Day

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Another Day 

“You’re right of course.” Emily nodded in agreement, as she took a bite out of her sandwich. “It really should be illegal to be forced to go to school on your birthday. Especially, if you were out so late saving the world the night before.”

“Well, I might’ve exaggerated on the whole ‘saving the world’ thing. I doubt that a simple salt and burn counts as saving the world.” Dean shrugged, as he looked down at his plate of lukewarm fish sticks and really wished that he’d gotten up early enough to have made a lunch for himself. He wasn’t sure what part of the fish went into the stick, but it certainly wasn’t an edible part. 

“What were you salting and burning?”

“A corpse.”

“Okay, now that’s just gross.” The girl made a face and just about threw her sandwich down. “Can you _not_ say that stuff at the lunch table? Some of us are trying to eat, instead of just playing with our food.”

“Hey, _you_ asked.” Dean shot back. “Besides, that’s the best way to get rid of spirits. You salt and burn their earthly remains.” Then he grinned mischievously. “’Cept this guy had been buried for years, so his corpse was all rotted and you could see the bones under the skin. And then there was smell; god it was terrible, and…”

Emily punched his arm none too gently. “Shut up, Dean!”

He laughed. “You are so easy.”

“And you are such a dork. And furthermore, I no longer feel sorry for you. People like you _should_ have to go to school on your birthday after staying up late burning dead people. And I hope you get a ton of homework.”

“Uh… you’re in all the same classes that I am, so if _I_ get a ton of homework, then so will you.” Dean pointed out.

Emily narrowed her eyes at him and he wisely decided to drop the subject so that his arm wouldn’t suffer any further abuse. She picked up her previously discarded sandwich and took a bite. “So, what do you think you’ll get for your birthday?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I think my parents have a hard time picking out gifts for me.”

“Because you’re so weird?”

“Pretty much.”

“Oh! Maybe they’ll get you some roller skates and I can teach you how to use them!”

“No.” Dean shot that idea down immediately.

“You’re no fun. A new bike?”

“Got one last Christmas.”

“A battle axe?” She giggled as she suggested it.

“My mom has a strict ‘no weapons as presents’ rule.” Dean informed her.

“Wow… really? You are the strangest friend I have ever made. Have I ever told you that?”

“About once a day.”

“Only?” With a smile, Emily opened her brown paper bag. “I remembered you saying something about your birthday being today, so… ta-da!” She pulled a Hostess cupcake out and held it out to Dean. “I don’t have a candle and I’m not going to sing to you, but… happy birthday!”

“Thanks!” Dean exclaimed, taking the chocolate snack cake from her hand and unwrapping it. He took a large bite of it and made a content ‘mmmmm’ sound.

“That doesn’t count as lunch.” Emily informed him, looking at his untouched school lunch.

“Neither does the crap they serve here.” He commented.

“Maybe the lunch ladies are possessed!” She suggested.

“Nah, I checked.”

“How?”

“You say ‘Christo’ to a demon possessed person and their eyes turn black. ‘Course then they know that they’re exposed and they proceed to attack and kill you, so it’s probably not the best idea for you to try it out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She seemed to think for a moment. “Did you really check, or are you just being a smartass?”

“I really checked. First day of school, I checked most of the staff here that I come in contact with. Just a precaution.”

“But not the students? I mean, Lilith…”

Dean sighed. “As I told you once before, not many demons choose kids as hosts. Besides, that would be a lot of kids to check. And when I found out that Lilith was here, I didn’t want to tip her off that I knew about her. She was a lot more dangerous than a regular everyday, run-of-the-mill demon. Letting her know that I was on to her would’ve been like signing my own death warrant.”

“Conversations with you are nightmare inspiring.”

Just then the bell rang and they both got up to throw away their trash and get to their next class.

When Dean got home, he went up to his room after greeting his mom and sat down at his desk. He discarded his backpack near his feet and turned his attention to the angel standing near him. 

“Okay Cas, go. I’ll be fine and Mom won’t be up to check on us for a while. I’ll look over the rest of the ones you brought back yesterday.”

“It’s been months, Dean.” 

“And we haven’t found a single lead, I know. But we gotta keep looking. If the info you got from Pastor Jim is correct, both Heaven and Hell are stepping up their game. We gotta step up ours as well. If the demons or angels come after us in force right now, we are screwed.”

“I am aware of that.”

“Then please, Cas, keep going out and getting the papers. We need to search for leads.”

The angel nodded. “And you are certain that you don’t want your parents to know?”

“I just don’t think that they’d go along with it.”

“They’ll find out eventually.”

“It’s better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. Especially if this all goes well.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Dean shrugged. “Then we may not need to worry about being around to tell them about it.”

Cas didn’t respond, but merely inclined his head and disappeared with that familiar ruffling sound. Dean pulled open his bottom desk drawer a yanked out a handful of newspapers from halfway across the country. He scanned the headlines and dismissed them. Nothing useful. Just like all the other papers from all the other days. He was beginning to feel really discouraged. Dean knew that tracking down their target could take some time. All the conditions would have to be right. There would have to be an incident and a reporter would have to write an article in a paper. Cas would have to pick that town at random to visit and pick up the paper and then Dean would have to see it and recognize it for what it was. So yeah, the term ‘long shot’ came to mind. But it wasn’t like there was any other way to track this kind of stuff. Dean was discovering an all new level of respect for Bobby and his ability to put together omens and all that crap from next to nothing.

When he heard the footsteps getting close to his door, Dean shoved the newspapers back into his drawer, and pulled out his homework. He’d just started on an algebra equation when his door opened. 

“Hi, Dean!”

“Hey, Sammy.”

“What’cha doing?”

“Homework.”

“Oh. Wanna play?”

Dean smiled. “I’d love to, short stuff, but I gotta get this done first. Maybe after dinner, okay?”

“But after dinner, we’re gonna do cake and presents.”

“And we can play after that.”

“Can we play now and you can do your homework after dinner?” Sammy pleaded.

Dean sighed. “And what’ll I tell Mom when she asks if I got my work done?”

“That you’ll get it done before bed. You tell her that all the time.”

Well, he really couldn’t argue with that. “Fine, but if I get grounded, you’re gonna suffer with me.”

They were sitting on the floor playing with Dean’s racetrack when suddenly Cas appeared in the middle of the room with his arms full of newspapers. Both boys looked up. With their attention away from the race, the cars jumped the track and tumbled onto the floor with tiny twin thuds. 

“Dean, I went to several different locations today and retrieved…” The angel stopped talking upon seeing the youngest Winchester.

“Oh crap.” Dean muttered.

Sammy looked between them. “Dean, what was Cas doing?”

“Picking stuff up for me, and you can’t tell Mom and Dad.”

“He’s not supposed to leave you alone.” Sammy argued.

“I’m safe in this house and what he’s doing is important. But it’s gotta be a secret for now, Sammy. Please.”

“Okay, Dean. Can you tell me what you guys are doing?”

“Not yet. But you’ll find out soon.” Dean turned to Cas. “There’s nothing in the other papers. Hide the new ones and dispose of the old ones. I’ll check out these ones tomorrow.” 

“Dinnertime!” Dean’s mom called up the stairs.

“Be right there!” He yelled back. “Okay Sammy, remember…”

“Cas was with us in your room the whole time.” Sammy recited. 

“Perfect.” Dean ruffled his hair. “But don’t say that. Don’t mention anything about him at all, okay?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s go down and eat. And have some cake afterwards.”

“And then you get presents!” Sammy exclaimed.

Dean laughed. “You know what I’m getting?”

“Yep, but I’m not allowed to tell you.”

“C’mon…”

“Nope.”

“Just a hint.”

“Mom will know. And then I’ll be in trouble.”

Dean sighed dramatically. “Fine. I guess I’ll wait.”

That night, as Dean lay in bed, he wondered if he was going to be able to pull off what he was trying to accomplish. He had no leads and he knew that there was a chance that he could be running out of time. Hell, a pissed off demon or angel could ambush him tomorrow on his way to school. And if they somehow knew about Cas and knew how to deal with him, Dean would be screwed. Without his own personal guardian angel, Dean would be defenseless against his stronger enemies, and the demons or angels would drag him off somewhere where his family would never find him and…

The boy sighed and tried not to think about it. He looked over to where his brand new board game, video games, clothes, and leather jacket were stacked on his desk. Birthdays were a lot more fun in this timeline. Yep, that was definitely something better to think about right now. How he’d gotten to eat a piece of chocolate cake and a piece of pecan pie after dinner and then he’d opened his gifts. Afterwards, they’d watched some television before he’d had to go upstairs to finish up his homework. Sure as hell beat being left alone in a crappy hotel room or celebrating by getting drunk alone in a run-down bar.

“Are you ready to go to sleep, or do you wish to discuss our mission further.”

“Not much to discuss, is there?”

“No.”

“Then sleep it is.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“’Night, Cas.”


	99. Found Him

Chapter Ninety-Nine: Found Him 

Dean’s cry of pain was almost impossible for Castiel to ignore, but that was exactly what the angel had to force himself to do. If he took his attention off of the boy’s parents right now, the demons would surely slaughter them. And if he allowed that to happen, then his friend would never forgive him. Besides, Dean had the demon killing knife but John and Mary were defenseless since one of the demons had knocked the Colt out of their reach moments ago. 

Castiel stabbed the demon closest to himself with his angel blade and watched for just a second to make certain that it was truly dead before rushing forward to grab at the one that had its hands wrapped around Mary’s neck. The angel snatched a handful of his hair and jerked the possessed man’s head back before slashing the man’s throat. Light poured out or the wound and Castiel dropped the body to the floor, thrusting his sword straight ahead over Mary’s shoulder and into the other demon’s heart before it even knew what was happening. 

With Dean’s mother safe, Castiel spun around to the three demons that had surrounded John. They had seen how easily the angel had disposed of their colleagues and seemed to be weighing their options. The demons obviously had been given orders to retrieve Dean and to kill anyone who got in their way, but they just as obviously did not want to meet their end by Castiel’s hands. They were now trying to decide if they were more frightened of the angel or the demon who was calling the shots. In the end, it didn’t matter to Castiel. This group of demons had seen him wielding his angel blade and now probably knew what he was. If they returned to Hell and told of him, it could prove to be a disaster. Of course that was assuming that Hell didn’t already know. After all, Lilith _had_ known… But in any case, Castiel was going to stay on the side of caution and end the demons before they could flee, if that was their intention. 

He reached the first of the demons and put the blade of the sword through her eye. A killing blow, no question. He pulled his weapon out and went to confront the others. Black smoke began to pour from their mouths but John shouted a brief incantation in Latin that momentarily paralyzed the demons and allowed the angel to finish them off. As Castiel yanked his angel blade out of the chest of the last of his opponents, he was finally able to give in to his desire to turn his attention to Dean. He prayed that he wasn’t too late to help his young friend.

Castiel ran from the room, two sets of footsteps close behind him letting him know that the boy’s parents were following. He tore down the hall and into the kitchen. The first thing that he noticed was the copious amount of blood that was splattered everywhere. It was like the gruesome aftermath of a bloody hurricane. And there, at its eye, was Dean. The young hunter stood, breathing heavily and covered in the same thick red substance as the rest of the area. His eyes were wide, but hard, as if he were both frightened but determined. His clothes were torn and the visible portions of his skin were covered with bleeding wounds. In his right hand was the knife, blood still dripping from its blade to land in a growing puddle on the already red floor. It was actually a terrifying sight and Castiel wondered for a moment if something had happened to force the boy into one of his Hell-flashbacks. The angel slowed his approach, just in case.

“Hey Cas. ‘Bout time you joined the party.” Dean’s words were light, but his voice was laced with pain, exhaustion, and residual fear. But it was obvious that his mind was clear. Still, that didn’t account for the carnage all around him. The young hunter seemed to read the angel’s mind, because he glanced around and then gestured to the wreckage with his knife. “This was like this when they dragged my ass in here. Those bodies on the floor belong to the homeowners and were dead already. I just ganked Heckle and Jeckle over here. And they did _not_ make it easy.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he muttered. “Bastards.”

Mary and John both stepped up to their son to make certain that he was alright. The boy’s father gently and carefully took the knife from his hand. Castiel noticed that Dean handed it over without a fight, probably knowing that it would ease his parents’ minds. Mary started to check him over, starting with the bleeding gash that ran across the same exact spot on the side of Dean’s face where he’d been left with a scar from that disastrous demon attack so many years ago. Castiel knew that one of the demons must’ve restrained Dean while the other had cut him open. 

“Dean, honey, where does it hurt the worst?” Mary asked, her voice shaking with the effort of staying calm. Both her and John were also injured, but they merely had some scrapes and bruises from their struggles with the demons and Castiel knew that neither would even think about those until Dean was cared for. 

Dean seemed to think for a moment before answering. “My face, I guess. My ribs hurt a bit too and I think I’m losing a lot of blood from my left leg.” With that, he collapsed and would’ve landed on the blood coated tile if his mother hadn’t caught him. 

While Mary held him tightly, John pushed apart the tattered remains of his pants leg to reveal a long, deep slash in the boy’s flesh. It ran from just under his knee to his ankle. How he’d managed to even stand, let alone fight off and kill the two demons was a mystery. But that was Dean. Castiel found himself admiring his friend’s strength once again.

“Castiel, get us to Bobby’s.” John ordered. “We need to get Dean patched up _now_.”

It was less than a week later when Dean looked up from one of the newspapers that Castiel had brought back and exclaimed in an excited stage whisper “Cas! I think I found him!”

Castiel was a bit startled. They had been searching for a very long time and had found no leads at all. Nothing. Not even a clue that had made them the slightest bit interested in looking further into a particular area. And now Dean thought that he had found him. Of course, ever since the school year had ended and Dean and Sam had been spending more time in their well-protected home, Castiel had had more time to sneak out and collect newspapers from all over the country but still…

The angel looked at the small hunter’s still bruised and stitched-up face. He now looked excited and a bit hopeful. 

“Are you certain?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded “Listen to this. There’s this older chick that’s a regular Cruella De Vil…”

“A what?” Castiel interrupted.

“You know, from that Disney movie with the dalmations? The woman with the freaky hair that makes coats from cute little dogs? Anyway, this chick is apparently practically her real life twin, just with slightly better hair. But the point is that she’s in the hospital right now, in the ICU, due to wounds suffered from being mauled by a litter of new born puppies. New born freakin’ puppies. Who the hell gets mauled by a litter of just born puppies? Are they even capable of mauling anyone?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side. “I do admit that that is unusual.”

“Damned freaky is what it is.” Dean nodded. “And totally his MO.” 

“Is that all you have?”

“Nope.” The hunter replied with a smirk. “That incident apparently happened a few days ago. It’s back in the papers now because PETA is making a big deal about it and the article is covering their point of view or whatever. But just yesterday, another douche-bag got his comeuppance. This dude is in charge of the most unsafe lumber company in, like, ever. According to the reporter, everyone knew that the man was putting his guys in unnecessary danger to save a few bucks but he somehow always passed his safety inspections. Anyways, yesterday, he met his grisly end while driving home when a tree fell on his car.”

“While that is somewhat ironic, it doesn’t prove…”

“Look at the picture, Cas.”

Castiel looked at the grainy black and white photo. The windshield of the car had been crushed by a tree that had fallen on the rather expensive automobile and had most certainly killed the driver. But the real interesting thing was the fact that as far as Castiel could tell, it was the only tree on the entire street. And it did not appear to be broken, sick, or weak in any way. It was as if the one and only tree that the man had to drive past just suddenly decided to uproot itself and fall over while the car was directly underneath it.

“Alright. Perhaps it _is_ him.”

“I say we got a trickster on our hands.” Dean announced, looking pleased with himself. “Or, at least an archangel in hiding, pretending to be a trickster.”

Castiel wasn’t quite sure how he felt. He was preparing to go and see one of his brothers. And not just to be in the same area as them, but to actually speak with them. It would be the first time in years. And this wasn’t just any of his siblings. This was Gabriel. Castiel wasn’t quite sure how he felt about Gabriel. He’d abandoned them all to go and hide on earth and had pretended to be a pagan god of all things. Then he’d gone and tormented the Winchesters. Yet in the end he’d given his life for their cause. And now they had another chance and Dean was convinced that Gabriel could possibly be an asset. But Castiel wasn’t even sure how he himself would react to seeing his brother again.

“Are you certain about this Dean?”

“We’ve been over this, Cas. We need allies. What happened last weekend proves it even more. Hell, we don’t even know why those demons lured us to that house. But they went right for me. They were dragging me off for some reason. Could’ve been for interrogation again, or maybe they got their plan B in place and need me, or maybe it was just revenge and they wanted me dead.”

“If it were merely revenge, they would’ve gutted you where you stood.” Castiel informed him.

Dean’s hands went to his stomach as he made a face. “Thanks for that mental image, Cas. But the fact remains that we need all the help we can get. I want us to be a bit more prepared before either side starts making steps towards any apocalyptic plans.”

“You do not need me to remind you that Gabriel has never been your biggest fan.”

“Yeah, he’s never exactly been on team Dean, he proved that by killing me over a hundred times. But I’m not looking for a guardian angel. Already got one of those.” He favored Castiel with a grin. “All I need is to convince him that our cause is right, our plan is better than his, and that he should sign on the dotted line.”

“And if he doesn’t agree with us?”

Dean shrugged. “Then I cross my fingers and pray that he doesn’t dream up the whole never-ending Tuesday thing over a decade and a half early.”

Castiel found that Dean’s response didn’t put him at ease.


	100. Guest of Honor

Chapter One Hundred: Guest of Honor 

Contrary to what television would have people believe, not every town in the United States of America was over-flowing with abandoned warehouses. So, as Dean painted the symbols on the metal walls and concrete floors, he prayed that whoever owned this particular warehouse and was storing dozens of crates of surplus textiles in here didn’t pick today to stop by and take inventory or pick up some of his merchandise. Besides being awkward and possibly leading to Dean’s arrest, if the owner showed up later while the confrontation was taking place… yeah, that wouldn’t end well.

“You almost done over there, Cas?” He called.

“Yes. I have one more to draw and then this wall will be complete.”

“Awesome.” 

The symbols that they were placing everywhere were designed to turn the warehouse into a lockbox of sorts for angels. Of course, it would mean that Cas would be trapped inside as well, but there was nothing that could be done about that. Any symbol or charm that they could find to protect Cas from the effects would be too easy for Gabriel to get his hands on as well and that was just too risky. The symbols would also dull, but not completely cancel out the angels’ powers. Of course, they also had made some holy oil circles as well and hope to lure Gabriel into one of them as an extra precaution. But that couldn’t be guaranteed. 

“It’s complete.” Cas announced.

“Done here too.” Dean confirmed. “And you’re sure that you can’t sense anything?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. Try to leave.” Dean watched as his friend exited the warehouse and then walked back in. “Perfect. I’m going to destroy this symbol now and we’ll see if the trap works.”

“No.” Cas stopped Dean before he could scrape the paint off the concrete floor.

“What? Why? I’ll put it back after we make sure that this works correctly.”

“As soon as you break that one symbol, all the other symbols in this warehouse become active.” The angel pointed out. Dean nodded. This was pretty much their plan on how they’d get Gabriel into the warehouse and then trap him. Pastor Jim had told them about this sigil that could be used to disguise and cancel out the powers of other symbols in a room. “If you activate all these Enochian sigils, Gabriel is certain to take notice. It would…”

“Screw up our plan.” Dean finished.

“Not the words I was going to use, but yes.”

“Okay then, no test case. But I have to say that I don’t like going into this blind.”

“We aren’t. We may not have a chance to try out this particular warehouse, but we know that the symbols should work.”

Dean sighed. “Still don’t like it.”

“And I don’t like the fact that you wish to go out and lure him back here by yourself.”

“You know that you can’t come, Cas. So far none of your brothers have recognized you, but Gabriel is hyper-aware of everyone since he’s in hiding too. If anyone is going to try and see past your little disguise, it’ll be him. So it’s best for both of us if you wait here and I bring him in. Especially since you even said that your work in hiding the true condition of my soul from others might even help keep my intentions from him as well.”

“I agree. But I still don’t like it.”

Dean grinned. “Well, now that neither of us are thrilled with our plan, I’ll go get our guest of honor.”

The town was relatively small, so Dean wandered around downtown and kept his eyes open. He figured that Gabriel would stay around for a bit to revel in the chaos he’d created and to find any other victims in the area. Also, if the dude had spent so long hiding out on Earth, he probably spent a while just hanging out and probably wouldn’t move unless either he had to or grew too bored with a certain area. 

The young hunter checked out all the diners and stores where candy could be purchased (although since the archangel could make sweets appear with but a though he probably wouldn’t waste money on buying them), and was about to call it quits for the day and head back. They’d lied to his parents and claimed that they were researching something for Bobby but were supposed to be home for dinner. It was getting late and Dean figured that he’d have to wait and try again the following day.

He was still following the long main road through downtown when the boy realized that he was being followed. A quick glance in a shop window revealed the familiar face of Gabriel. Dean tried hard not to react. He couldn’t let on that he was aware that he was being tailed yet, nor that he knew his stalker. So he just shoved his hands into his pockets and kept his pace steady. Dean just hoped that the pretend-trickster would let him get back to the warehouse before he tried anything.

And why the hell was Gabriel following him anyways? Sure it made it a hell of a lot easier to lure him into their trap, but what reason did the archangel have to tail a normal looking kid? Well, normal looking except for the stitches and bruises on his face and the slight limp. There was no way that Dean could’ve been made for a hunter… unless…

Crap. Gabriel had known who Sam and him were in the original timeline even though the archangel was many years separated from Heaven’s water cooler gossip. Which meant that even in this timeline, he could probably recognize Dean. So, now he would be curious as to what a hunter’s kid was doing here and probably thought that he was here to stop his current pranks. Well, the good news was that if that was the case, Gabriel would assume that John was here as well and was probably following Dean to discover where they were staying and not to try and harm Dean. 

It seemed to take twice as long to walk back, but finally the warehouse came into view. Dean let out a sigh of relief as he reached out for the doorknob, only to have the small object disappear. Along with the door. Okay, that certainly complicated things. It was time to improvise.

Dean spun around and came face to face with Gabriel, who was standing there, unwrapping a Hershey’s bar. The archangel took a bite and then pulled another chocolate candy bar from his jacket pocket and held it out to the boy.

“Want one?”

Dean shook his head. “No thanks. Brought my own.” He reached into his jeans pocket and produced an open bag of M&Ms. After tossing a few in his mouth and chewing them, the young hunter continued. “My dad taught me to never accept candy from tricksters.”

Gabriel’s eyebrow went up. “You know what I am?”

“Yep. And I know how to deal with something like you too.”

The archangel looked amused. “Trust me kid, there’s nothing else like me around.”

“You’re not so unique.” Dean shot back. “I take out douche-bags with delusions of grandeur all the time”

Gabriel laughed. “I like you. But that won’t stop me from taking you out if you try to stop me.”

“Not really your MO though, is it? Don’t you usually just off assholes?”

“And hunters who try to stop me. Of course _you_ can drop the tough act, Deano.” Gabriel smiled as he said the boy’s name, obviously expecting Dean to be shocked that his identity was known. “I don’t see any weapons in your hands, so I’m going to assume that your daddy is waiting inside this building to deal with me?”

Dean allowed a brief look of panic to pass over his face before he shook his head. “No.” He denied. He prayed that everything inside was in place. They’d planted some of his father’s stuff around the warehouse and placed a spell on it that would allow the archangel to sense John Winchester inside if he didn’t probe too far. Of course, if it didn’t fool him and things fell apart too quickly, Dean knew how dangerous crossing Gabriel could become.

“Riiiiiight.” It was obvious that Gabriel thought that Dean was trying to lure him into a trap… which he technically was, but a different trap than the archangel was expecting. 

Dean bit his lip and tried to look like he was moments away from panic. He hoped that he was a good enough actor to sell this next bit. And that Gabriel would take the bait. And that the false-trickster was so deep in hiding that he didn’t hear about all the changes that the Winchesters had made to the timeline. 

“He’s not. I… I was just going in there because that’s where I’m staying. There were no vacancies at the motel.” Dean delivered the lamest cover story ever with a sincere look in his eyes.

A smirk lit Gabriel’s face as he crumbled up the candy wrapper and tossed it carelessly to the ground. “Daddy Winchester didn’t teach you to lie very well, did he?”

Dean glanced nervously at the warehouse, where the door should’ve been, and then at his watch. He bit his lip again and swallowed uncomfortably. “Well not everyone lies and kills as easily as breathing, like you do.”

Gabriel seemed to pick up on Dean’s ‘discomfort’. “What’s up, kiddo? Am I holding you up? Got somewhere to be?”

“Yeah, I have a job to do.” Dean responded. “Evil sons on bitches to gank.” But he put no real fire behind the words, letting his voice waver a bit.

“Well, you get right back to that. Tell me how it turns out.” Gabriel pulled a lollipop out of seemingly nowhere and stuck it in his mouth.

A sound came from inside the warehouse. _Perfect timing, Cas._ Dean jumped, and made it seem as though he were shrinking in on himself. “No! I… I mean, I’m going to get you inside this warehouse and put a stop to you once and for all.”

As he watched, the archangel put together the clues that Dean had wanted him to. “And what happens to you if you don’t.”

Dean reached up and touched his bruised face, making it seem like an unconscious move. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Gabriel grinned. “Look Deano, I think if we work together, we can both get what we need.”

“Work with you? You’re the bad guy.”

“I’m not the one who gave you that, kiddo.” The archangel gestured to Dean’s beaten face, obviously hinting that he thought that John had abused the hell out of his son. “You were correct-o earlier, you know. Dealing with assholes _is_ my specialty.” He winked at Dean.

Dean shook his head. “No way. I’m not gonna let you kill my dad.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Hunter Jr. But I’m thinking that since this town’s running a bit low on the entertainment level for me, that I can have a bit of fun with him and maybe teach him a lesson or two. Make him think twice before he lays a hand on you again.”

“And in return?” Dean crossed his arms. “’Cause I don’t believe for a moment that you’d do it just to help me.” Especially since this was the same guy that would later not hesitate to repeatedly kill him just to prove a point to Sam.

“Well, besides the fact that it’d be hilarious as all hell to take the great John Winchester down a peg, at the end of the charade, his little wayward son gets to kill me.”

“Huh?”

“Not really, Deano. But we put on a good show, you get the ‘kill’, and I move on to the next town. I get your daddy off my back and maybe he stays off your face for a while, waddya say?”

Dean had to fight hard to keep the grin off of his face. So far it seemed that he was deceiving the deceiver. Sometimes his smaller, innocent looking packaging could come in handy. As an adult, Gabriel would be putting him through the grinder by now. 

“You promise not to kill him?”

“Yep.” He said around a mouthful of candy.

“But if I let you go, you’ll keep killing.”

“Just the assholes, Deano. And the world can sure use a few less of them, yeah?”

Dean made it seem like he was considering it for a moment. “Yeah. I mean… okay.”

The door suddenly appeared back on the warehouse and Dean looked from it back to Gabriel. It was show time.

Dean entered slowly, like he wasn’t quite certain about his actions. He didn’t want to seem too eager. Once both of them were inside the warehouse, the door slammed shut. That wasn’t part of Dean’s plan, so it must’ve been Gabriel. He heard footsteps approaching.

Suddenly, the entire area was lit up with multi-colored lights and a huge disco ball descended from the ceiling as some obnoxious music from the seventies blasted out of nowhere. 

“The guest of honor has arrived!” Gabriel announced. “Now it’s a party!”

Dean turned and saw that his clothes were sparkly and he was wearing a pair of dance shoes. Confetti fell from everywhere and the young hunter reached up to brush it out of his hair, and his hand knocked a brightly colored paper party hat off his head and onto the floor. Gabriel took the lollipop out of his mouth and was about to blow on a party horn when Cas stepped out from behind a stack of crates.

The archangel blinked. “You’re not John Winchester.”

Dean placed his foot on the correct sigil. “And you’re not a trickster.” He scraped the paint away and watched as both Cas and Gabriel winced and the party décor started to flicker in and out of existence. That was all the proof he needed. The symbols in the room were active. “Isn’t that right, Gabriel? Or can I just call you Gabe?”


	101. What Are You Hiding

Chapter One Hundred and One: What Are You Hiding 

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. For the fact that the small child standing before him had called him by name. No one on this entire planet knew who he was. No one. But somehow, Dean Winchester, a boy of only ten years, knew a secret that Gabriel had hidden from Heaven, Hell, and all those in-between for more years than he cared to reflect on. Not only that, but the kid had somehow tricked him into this warehouse that was actually a trap and was now standing in front of him with a rather smug look on his young face. But the look was wrong. As Gabriel stared at Dean, not sure whether to be more impressed or annoyed at the child, he realized something that he hadn’t before about the boy. His smug expression wasn’t the type one that a child would have, where they’d be practically bouncing off the walls screaming ‘fooled you!’ at the top of their lungs. No, this child had a more calculating look in his eyes, as if he were pleased with his performance thus far, but was planning his next move. There was a maturity to him that Dean should not possess at this age. That made an uncomfortable thought pass through Gabriel’s mind as he considered what he knew of Dean’s destiny. But no… they wouldn’t have accelerated their plans… would they? And surly he’d be able to have sensed something if _he_ were present… wouldn’t he? But still…

Gabriel studied Dean Winchester closer, and had to ask. “Michael?”

Dean jerked his head back in surprise, then scrunched up his nose. “Nope. Never.”

Gabriel shrugged, as if it were no big deal and the very thought that his big brother had possibly tracked him down hadn’t just given him a minor heart attack. “Okay, just asking. And by the way, nope, you _can’t_ call me Gabe.”

“So Gabe, now that we’ve got your undivided attention, maybe we can have a chat.”

Gabriel plastered a smirk on his face, trying to act as though he had the upper hand. He was the archangel here, after all. The Winchester kid might be clever, and have some kind of maturity and intelligence far beyond his years, but he was still a human boy and no match for Gabriel. This warehouse was blocking a good deal of his powers and was preventing him from leaving but given enough time, there was always a chance that he’d find a way around the sigils. And as for the child’s companion…

Gabriel turned his attention to the man in the trench coat. There was something so very familiar about him. At a glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary and further probing revealed some sort of cloak or disguise in place, protecting the man’s true essence. Gabriel recognized it, as it was a trick he himself would use around any creature that would be able to peg him as an angel. So, this man wasn’t human. And Gabriel would bet his left wing that he was an angel. But another angel in hiding? Really? 

“So what can little old me do for you and your guardian angel?” He asked.

Dean blinked at that, giving away that Gabriel had gotten that part right, but other than that, he didn’t really react. “You were the one offering that we help each other out just a few minutes ago. Well, I don’t need the kind of help you thought I did, but I do think that we can still be of use to the other.”

Gabriel flicked his eyes back over to Dean’s companion. Why would an angel be helping the Winchesters at this point in the game? That was _not_ in the plans. Sure he’d been out of the loop for quite some time, but plans had been in place since practically forever, and Gabriel doubted that his siblings had willingly changed them. So that, combined with the fact that this angel was in hiding, meant that this angel was definitely a rogue. That could be a good thing or very bad. But the biggest question in his mind was who could it be. Who would defy the others? And what for? Gabriel continued to study him, trying to get a sense of his true self through the disguise.

“Well Dean, since I have a bit more power than you, I don’t exactly see what you have to offer me.”

Dean grinned at him. “A hell of a lot. For starters, I know more about what’s going on with the apocalypse than you do. Such as the fact that it’s currently way off schedule. And I know why.”

Gabriel tore his attention away from the angel to look at the boy. The apocalypse was off schedule? The other angels would never allow that. If he wasn’t currently trapped in a room that secluded him from everything outside, he’d be tempted to risk tapping into the ‘angel chatter’ to see if what Dean was telling him was true or not. 

The trench coat wearing angel seemed to know what he was thinking. “He speaks the truth.”

“Well sure. I guess I’ll just take you’re word for it, then.” Gabriel agreed sarcastically. 

“It doesn’t matter whether you believe us or not.” The angel informed him. “What matters is that we speak the truth. Not that you would know much about that.”

Something in his voice, in his mannerisms, and the glimpse that Gabriel was getting through the nicely done cloak hiding the angel’s true self all seemed to click together at once and a smile spread across the archangel’s face.

“Well, it appears that we’re all trying to hide something right now, aren’t we Castiel?”

Castiel didn’t react other than to incline his head, but Dean’s eyes widened and then narrowed. If he wasn’t only ten years old, Gabriel would actually feel threatened by the look on his face. 

“So, you’re figuring things out. Good for you. But just remember that you were right when you said that we are _all_ hiding something. You spill any of our secrets to anyone, and I just might tip off the wrong people as to the real identity of the so-called trickster. Got it?”

The archangel put aside his annoyance at the threat and his curiosity as to why Castiel was down on Earth helping out the Winchesters against Heaven’s wishes for the moment. Instead, he turned his full attention to the small boy. He squinted and sure enough, Dean had a similar sort of cloak hiding something in his soul. But the boy was human, of that Gabriel was sure.

“So, what’s your secret, Deano?”

“That I’m way too awesome for this planet.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Riiight.”

Dean stepped forward. “I know why you’re in hiding, Gabe. You hate the fact that your siblings are constantly at each other’s throats. You couldn’t stand to sit up there and watch it, but felt that you couldn’t stop it, so you ran and put yourself in witness protection.”

How the hell did this kid know all that? “What makes you assume any of that?”

“I don’t assume. I know. Just as I know that you don’t really want the apocalypse to take place. Hell, if I had to take a bet, I’d say you like us humans.”

Gabriel laughed dismissively. “Oh and you got this idea from where? Pulled it out of your ass?”

“Nope, saw it in the smoke you were blowing outta yours. See, you spend all your time with people and what do you choose to do? You help those that can’t help themselves by punishing the world’s douche-bags. And you indulge in all the pleasures of this world just like you were one of us. No, I don’t think you want all of this to end at all.”

“What do you know?’ Gabriel asked stepping closely to Dean and staring at him so hard he was hoping that whatever was blocking the boy’s true self would just crack to pieces and fall away. “What are you hiding?”

Dean seemed to think for a moment and then sighed. “Promise that you’ll hear me out and I’ll show you.”

“Well, don’t really have much choice on the whole ‘hearing you out’ thing. I’m kind of a ‘captive audience’.” As if to prove his point, Gabriel lifted his hands up and a pair of handcuffs appeared on them.

Dean lifted an eyebrow. “Wow… kinky. But I’m really not into that sort of thing.”

Castiel seemed concerned. “Dean, I’m not so sure if telling him…”

“Cas, we gotta lay our cards on the table now if we want his cooperation. And this is the safest place to do this. No other angels can see in, so we got privacy.”

Castiel nodded reluctantly and stepped forward to place his hand on Dean’s chest. Dean winced in pain but only made a small grunt as light seemed to radiate from both the angel’s hand and the boy’s ribs. 

When Castiel stepped away, Gabriel looked back at Dean. Outside, he looked no different, but when the archangel took a glance at his soul, he for once was speechless. The child’s soul was a wreck. Oh, it was still bright and very much the essence of a hero, but it had been torn and shredded and was old far beyond the age of ten. What had happened to Dean Winchester? If Gabriel remembered the angels’ plans correctly, nothing but small encounters with the supernatural were supposed to happen to him until he was almost thirty. But then again, Dean had said that things had changed…

“And I thought you looked like crap on the outside.” Gabriel finally managed to say, handcuffs fading away into non-existence. 

“Yeah well, forty years in Hell will do that to a guy.” Dean commented casually. 

“But you’re…”

“Not supposed to know about that yet? Yeah well, been there done that, came back to change things.”

“Came back?” Then it clicked. “You’re time traveling. But you can’t…”

“Obviously we can.” Dean shot back. “See, we’ve been here for almost six years. And since we know how this whole crappy story ends, we decided to rewrite the middle and change a few things around. My mom’s not dead, Sammy’s not infected with demon blood, Azazel and Lilith both kicked the bucket early, and Heaven and Hell are standing around trying to figure out where to go from here. Their precious apocalypse is about a million miles off the tracks and we intend to keep it that way because trust me, things aren’t going to end well if we let them have their way.”

“And you want my help.”

“Yep.”

“Why would you even entertain the idea that _I_ would help _you_?”

“You mean besides all the perfectly valid reasons I gave earlier?” The boy/man answered. “Because I’ve lived through negotiations with you before. And you’ll fight me on it, you’ll joke around, you’ll be a damned coward and try to bury your head in the sand. But in the end, you’ll come through.”

“And how did everything end the first time around?” Gabriel asked.

“With all of us dead and the world ready to burn.”

The archangel laughed in disbelief. “You have got to work on your sales pitch, kiddo. Why exactly would I help you if that’s gonna be the outcome?”

“I said that that’s what happened the first time. This time will be different. Last time we all acted too late and made some really bad decisions. I’m fixing it this time, but I need help. And so do you. Because I know that you can’t be completely happy existing like this; in hiding, knowing that your family is out there ready to kill each other and take this whole world with them. You hide behind your jokes and a goofy smile but you can’t fool a fooler, Gabe.”

Everything Dean had said was ringing in his head as the archangel glanced from the hunter to Castiel and back. The angel had remained silent and Gabriel wondered what had happened to make him rebel and take such drastic measures to help this human. 

“It seems to me that you already have an angel on your side.” Gabriel replied, playing for time as he considered everything.

“True. And I’m not asking you to follow me and my family around and protect us from harm. That’d draw far too much attention to us and you. Besides, I’m not entirely sure I’d be able to trust you completely. No offense, but there is some history between us. But there are going to be some battles coming up that we may not be able to fight on our own. And if we lose, the whole world will lose. All I want is your word that if myself, Cas, or anyone in my family calls for you, you’ll come.”

“And if I don’t?” 

Dean looked him in the eyes. “Then, if we fail and your siblings manage to find a way to start up the apocalypse, you’ll have the honor of knowing that you helped to bring about all the fighting, death, and destruction that will undoubtedly follow.”


	102. Frustration

Chapter One Hundred and Two: Frustration 

“Damn!” Dean exclaimed and pounded his fist into his thigh with enough force that he was pretty sure that he’d have a bruise there the next morning. 

He had made what he’d thought was a pretty convincing argument to Gabriel, had laid all their cards on the table and told it like it was. Trickery had been the only way to lure Gabe into the warehouse, but it wouldn’t win him over in the long run and if they were caught in a lie later on, it would prove disastrous. Still, it wasn’t a guarantee that they’d acquire the archangel’s help, no matter how sure Dean knew he’d sounded during his speech. Part of him was certain that eventually Gabriel would throw in with them, after all he had in the original timeline, but another part of him kept whispering that everything was changing and some of those changes _wouldn’t_ be for the better. But as he stood there listening to his inner voices argue, suddenly the party inside the warehouse kicked into high gear. The disco ball shined blinding spots of light everywhere, the music became deafening, streamers and confetti fell from the ceiling, and silly string splurted out of nowhere to cover everything. Dean had covered his face with his arms and screamed for Gabe to cut it the hell out. And then it had all stopped, just as quickly as it had started. And when Dean lowered his arms, he saw the remains of the impromptu party, but no archangel. And thus his frustrated exclamation.

“How did he escape?” Dean questioned.

“The symbols are inactive.” Cas informed him.

“How?” Dean looked around at the mess. “Okay, so some are covered by this crap, but that’s not enough to render them useless. And even if it was, we have enough to…” His voice trailed off as he caught sight of something on the floor. “That sneaky bastard. The party was a diversion. Look.” Dean pointed down to sigil that canceled out all the others. He’d broken it with his foot once they’d gotten Gabe inside, but now it was once again complete. And lying right next to it was an envelope.

The boy picked up the paper object and tore it open. Inside the envelope was a brightly colored card. Dean scanned it with his eyes, reading the whole thing before throwing it down in anger.

“What is it?”

“A thank you card.” Dean responded. “Gabe wants to thank us for the party and for offering him such a wonderful opportunity but says that unfortunately he has plans.”

“You knew that this was a long shot.”

“He’ll come around, Cas. Hell, you gotta know him better than I do. He’s your brother.”

“I know that he left to come down here and pose as a pagan god.”

“Yeah, and you left to come down here and help out a bunch of humans that are trying to stop your family’s plans.” Dean countered. “Now’s not the time for us to get picky about our allies.”

“But he has not chosen to align himself with us.”

“He will.” Dean hoped that he was right. Because he somehow doubted that he was going to get the chance to state his case to the archangel again and they really didn’t have any other powerful being to appeal to for help. 

Dean was exhausted, frustrated, and discouraged by the time he and Cas opened the front door to the Winchester house. All he really wanted to do was go up to his room and collapse on the bed. Preferably with Cas by his side to make certain that Hell wouldn’t intrude on his dreams, but at this point he was almost beyond caring. But the boy realized that his plans for rest were going to have to wait when he was greeted just inside the entrance by both of his parents, one looking more stern than the other. Oh yeah, this night was gonna suck.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, Dean.” His mom greeted. “You missed dinner.”

“Sorry. Lost track of time.”

“Well, were you at least able to help Bobby complete his research?”

“Yep.” Dean responded tiredly, trying to avoid any real conversation so that he could get to his room.

“Really?” Dean’s dad cut in. “Well, I can’t figure how you could’ve done that when you weren’t even there. When he, in fact, never asked for your help.”

“What…”

“I called him.” His mom informed Dean. “When you didn’t show up at dinner, I called to see why you were running so late and Bobby told me that he hasn’t spoken to you in a couple weeks. So, where were you two?”

“And no lies this time.” His dad folded his arms across his chest and glared down at Dean.

“We were out running a very important mission. If it pans out, it’ll save all our asses. And no, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You don’t get a choice in it, mister.” His dad snapped, stepping forwards.

“You know what? Yeah, I do. I may not look it, but I’m just as old as you are, Dad, and I got more experience. I needed to contact a potential ally and it was best handled by just me and Cas. It was a judgment call and I made it.”

“Oh, so now you’re making all the decisions for this family?” There was anger and a hint of something almost dangerous in his father’s voice. “I’m still your father, Dean. No matter how old you think you are.”

“You really wanna have this pissing contest? ‘Cause I’ve gone head to head with far worse than you and come out on top.” Dean set his jaw defiantly.

“Both of you calm down.” His mom cut in. “Dean, you can’t just lie to us and sneak out wherever you want to go. Besides being dishonest, it’s dangerous. What if something had happened to you?”

“I had Cas with me.”

“Yes, and if you were attacked by someone who knew what he was and how to disable him? Dean, we could’ve lost you and we never would’ve known where to even begin to look.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, besides Cas being there, I can take care of myself too. I think I’ve proven that over that past few years. And I was just going to meet up with a potential ally, not face down the armies of Hell or anything.”

“Yeah well, if you were just going to talk with a friend, why hide it?” His dad challenged.

“To avoid a confrontation like this!” Dean shot back. “And because it would bring up more crap about my past and I’m sick of explaining myself all the time. You can never just accept my word for it. You would’ve questioned me and made me go over every freakin’ detail that I’d much rather forget and then you probably would’ve said no to my entire plan even though it was a good one and may have worked.”

“May have?”

Dean shrugged. “He’ll get back to me.”

“And who is this ally that you couldn’t tell us about?” His dad asked.

“I’ll let you know if he signs on.”

“You’ll let me know now.”

“No. My reasons still stand.”

“I don’t give a crap about any of your reasons, Dean! I’m your dad and you will tell me what I want to know!” He stepped up and grabbed Dean by his jacket, jerking the boy forwards somewhat roughly.

Dean flinched back from the anger he saw in his father’s face and it reminded him instantly of something he’d worked hard to forget over the past few years. Unfortunately, his mouth was connected straight to his brain with no sort of filter in-between, so the moment he thought it, the words tumbled out of him. “And what if I don’t? Then what? You’ll do you’re best impersonation of that shifter from a few years back?”

His dad’s hand pulled back as though he’d been burned. Dean stumbled, stunned that he’d said the words but still caught up in the memories of that experience. The father and son looked at each other a moment longer, both looking like deer caught in the headlights. Then Dean turned and took off up the stairs while his dad went out the front door. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

John’s hands were shaking as he poured himself a cup of coffee and he knew it wasn’t just because he’d sat outside on the porch in the cold for over three hours. It was because of the damned scenes that kept replaying in his head. What the hell had he been thinking, grabbing his son like that? Sure, Dean was insisting that he was an adult, but he was still in many ways a ten year old boy and John had snatched his jacket and dragged him forwards, screaming at him like a madman. He was reasonably certain that he wouldn’t have hit Dean, but he knew that he’d only been a moment away from shoving the child backwards where the boy would probably have ended up sprawled on the floor. Certainly not anything to be compared to what the shifter had done to Dean, but also not father of the year material. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t. Damn his temper. And now he kept replaying that moment over and over along with the greatest hits of the shifter case and they just kept blurring together and…

“Dad…”

John’s head jerked up to see his son standing in the kitchen, hands shoved in the pockets of his pajama pants, head bowed, looking up at him from underneath his long eyelashes. Dean looked about as lost as John himself felt. Without thinking, without even realizing what he was doing, the father put down his coffee mug and moved towards the boy. Seconds later, they were wrapped together in a hug.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“I shouldn’t’ve said that, Dad.”

“No, I get it. I acted…”

“Not like him.”

“But I scared you.”

“A bit. Well, more startled me than anything.”

John pulled back with a chuckle. “Yeah, ‘cause nothing scares the great hunter Dean Winchester.”

Dean grinned. “And don’t you forget it.”

John went to the refrigerator and poured a glass of milk for his son. After grabbing a handful of chocolate chip cookies for them to share, they sat at the table to eat their snack. It was really much too late to be eating junk food, but what the hell. 

“You still…” John cleared his throat. “You still think about that a lot?”

Dean shrugged, biting into a cookie. “Try not to. I file it away with the least pleasant memories and leave it there. But sometimes things jar the memories back to the present.”

“Yeah, same here. Took me a long time to stop seeing images of your dead body after that. I mean, I know it wasn’t you that I shot but…”

“Sorry for bringing it up tonight.”

“Sorry for losing my temper.”

“Well, I’m pretty damn good at pushing buttons, huh?”

“According to your mother, we both are.”

Dean snorted. “We’re gonna drive her crazy.”

John nodded his agreement. “You worried her tonight, you know.”

“Didn’t mean to. And I know I’m probably going to piss you off again with my lack of details, but what I did had to be done. We need allies, Dad. And I knew one.”

John wanted to press, but an inner voice that sounded suspiciously like his wife’s encouraged him not to push his son away again. “And you think it worked out?”

“Only time will tell.”

“Dean, I get that there are painful things in your past, but I need you to promise that you won’t keep secrets that we need to know. I don’t want anyone put in danger if we can stop it by simply having a talk.”

Dean gave a bitter laugh before taking a gulp of milk. “Nothing simple about my life, Dad. And I try not to keep important stuff from you guys on purpose. I mean, I told you a bunch of stuff about what’s gonna happen and the things that have changed. But there is some stuff that just doesn’t matter anymore. Not to anyone but me, that is.”

“Your mom and I want to help.”

Dean muttered something low that sounded suspiciously like “You wouldn’t if you knew the truth ‘bout some stuff.” But then before John could say anything, he hopped off his chair. “It’s really late, Dad. I just stayed up ‘cause I couldn’t leave things the way they were. I know we still don’t agree about how I handled things with our potential ally, but what’s done is done. And mom was right that I shouldn’t sneak off like that ‘cause it was dangerous and so I wanted to just say that if Cas and I need to go out on our own again, it won’t be behind your backs. Okay?”

And John knew that that was the best offer he’d get from his son and he was a bit surprised that it was even being suggested. “Okay. Now get to bed.”

“You too.”

John rolled his eyes at the fact that his son refused to take an order without giving one in return. Raising Dean was certainly turning out to be an interesting experience.


	103. Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is a very dark storyline containing semi-graphic torture, descriptions of dead bodies, child murder, and other disturbing topics. You've been warned.

Chapter One Hundred and Three: Dark 

Pain. That was the first thing that John became aware of. The next was an incredible cold that seeped through his clothes and into his skin and all the way to his bones. Yet even that deep, freezing, icy cold couldn’t begin to numb the fire that was coming from his too numerous to count injuries. And while those injuries were making themselves known, the pain was clouding out the reasons for all the pain that he was in. 

What the hell had happened? Why was he in such bad condition? He was bleeding, his leg was throbbing and was definitely broken, his head was ringing, his ribs ached… everything hurt. Where exactly was he? John was lying on cold, hard ground. Cement. It was wet and sticky. Yeah, that was probably his own blood. 

The hunter forced his way passed the pain and opened his eyes. At first it made no difference. The room remained bathed in darkness. John panicked for a moment, wondering if perhaps his eyes had been damaged and he was blind, but then his vision began to adjust to the pitch black of the room that he was in. There still was not much to see but some shadows and shapes but it was enough to let him know that his eyes were still working and that he was being kept somewhere without windows. Concrete floor and no windows. Probably a basement then. 

Since he couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of himself with any sort of accuracy, there was just no way for him to tell the size of the basement. He also couldn’t make out any objects in the room with him. Not until he turned his attention to the ground. Then he saw a small lump on the ground a few feet away. John’s heart nearly stopped as he realized that it was human shaped. A small human shape. A child. And that’s when John remembered. He’d been on a hunt. And Dean had been with him.

The hunter dragged his injured body over to the shadowy form on the ground and squinted down at it, but he couldn’t make out any details in the dark. He ran his hand over the body. Denim pants that were torn and shredded. A leather jacket covering a t-shirt in similar condition. The clothes were stiff with dried blood and when his hand reached the boy’s stomach, John felt a large gaping hole. No. No, no, no, no, no. He ran his hands up his son’s body, trying not to feel all the broken bones and reached the child’s throat. He grasped desperately for a pulse. Nothing. No. Oh God, no. Not Dean. John felt the tears running down his face as he pressed his fingers harder into the cold flesh of his dead son’s neck, praying that this time he’d feel a heartbeat. Still nothing.

“Dean.” He croaked out. John half pulled the body into his arms, cradling the boy against himself. He couldn’t even remember what had happened. What had done this? How had he let his son down like this? How had he let the monsters kill his boy? John broke down even further, allowing more tears to stream down his cheeks as he leaned down to bury his face in Dean’s hair. The longish strands tickled his face as he closed his eyes tightly. 

Wait. No. That was all wrong. Dean had just gotten his hair cut. John had taken him to the barber shop himself right after school had let out and the twelve year old had insisted that his hair needed a ‘summer cut’. So, his son should have his signature short, spiky hair, not this long, curly hair that was currently brushing up against his skin. 

John gently lowered the dead boy back to the ground and ran his hands over the child. He couldn’t be certain, but the kid was probably about Dean’s age. Now that he knew that it wasn’t his son and was ‘seeing’ the child clearly, he realized that this boy was a bit heavier than Dean and maybe a little shorter. And judging by how cold and stiff the body was, the poor child had been dead for a long while. He felt bad for the kid, but extremely grateful that it wasn’t his son. But still, Dean _had_ been with him, so that meant that Dean might still be here somewhere.

“Dean.” John hissed his son’s name out in just above a whisper. He wanted to alert the boy if he was nearby, but didn’t want to call the attention of whatever had injured him and killed the unknown child. 

When he got no response, he pulled his injured body along the floor even further. A couple feet away from the body of the preteen boy was another human shaped lump. When John was mere inches from it, he could tell that it was clearly female. He used his hands to carefully inspect the damage. Her head was completely caved in, so he didn’t even bother to check for a pulse. She was dressed similar to the boy and John assumed that they were probably related. As he trailed his hand down her shoulder, he realized that she was missing her right arm. John swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. He was really hoping that he wasn’t going to find Dean among the bodies in here. 

About a yard away from the woman was another body. This one was a burly male; his body cold, stiff and coated in dried blood. John’s hands brushed the man’s innards that were lying in a heap next to him. Piled half on the large man was a short, slender man. John’s careful exploration with his fingers revealed a face that was young, probably only a teenager. The deep gash in his throat left no doubt to the teen’s cause of death. 

As John was discovering the bodies, his memories of the case were flashing back to him. Hunters and their children had been disappearing. Five hunters in all. Five? Yeah, he was pretty sure it had been five. Four men and one woman. All had had kids of various ages that had vanished with them. Two had had wives, but the women had not been touched. Just the hunters and their children. Boys. All the kids that had disappeared were boys. One little girl had been left behind with her mother and one teen girl had been left alone at their apartment, injured when her younger brother had been grabbed. No one had seen anything that had been helpful at identifying the creature, except that it was most likely humanoid. John squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to recall more details of the case. No bodies had been found. Until now, that is. 

When word had reached him, he knew that he had to look into this. One of the missing hunters had had a young boy that was only seven years old, one year younger than Sammy. Not only did he want to find and help those that were missing (looked like it was a bit too late to help them now), but he wanted to make certain that his own children weren’t added to the list of the missing. He’d gone over the journal with Dean only to discover that he hadn’t been involved with this the first time around. He’d been across the country following a lead on Mary’s killer that had led to nowhere. So they had started with no extra leads. John tried to remember what they had done. 

His hands came upon another small body and as soon as he knew that it was long dead, the hunter moved on. He couldn’t stand to explore and know the kind of damage the monster had caused the poor child. Close by was the body of a man and another body that was taller than the man but thin and probably that of a teenager. Yeah, the father of the seven year old had had a nineteen year old that had vanished with them as well. 

John stopped his exploration and dragged his injured body back the way he’d came. When he was pretty sure that he was around the area that he’d started, he allowed himself to collapse for a moment to catch his breath. He was dangerously close to passing out again. But he couldn’t allow that to happen until he found Dean or at least remembered what had happened to his boy. Maybe his son was in the other direction. John reached his hands out and found nothing. He pulled himself forwards a few feet but there was still no bodies, dead or otherwise, in the area. The hunter put his head down and let out a moan that was half agony, half despair. 

No. He couldn’t afford to give in to that right now. Not yet. Not when Dean might be counting on his father to save him at this very moment. So what had happened? 

John had asked around. He couldn’t remember specifics (damned head injury) but the first clue he’d gotten was… damn, what had it been? A hunter. Some young guy had contacted him and said that he had a lead on the creature doing it. He wasn’t sure what kind of creature it was, but he thought he knew where it was heading. John had taken the information to Bobby and the older hunter had cross referenced it and come up with a handful of possibilities. Vampire nest looking for revenge. Shifter. Some creature called a fiuevo. And those were only his top three choices. There were half a dozen other creatures that might be going after the hunters and their sons. But what had he done next? 

He’d gone to meet with the hunter. He’d taken Cas with him. He hadn’t wanted Dean involved, and had convinced the boy to stay to protect Sammy. But he was almost certain that Dean was involved with this later on… how… _Think, John, think!_

The three of them had followed the leads but were too late. The hunter that lived in that area with her eleven year old son had already gone missing. Oh God, those must be the bodies that John had first discovered. He, Cas, and the other hunter Paul something-or-another had dug around for clues as to where the creature(s) could’ve taken them but came up with nothing. Finally, they had split up, sending the younger hunter off to try and contact more hunters. A warning had to be sent out to those with children and those without would hopefully offer their help. John and Cas had stayed in town for another day to finish up just in case anything had been missed and then headed back to Bobby’s house for more research. 

And that was it. He’d been at Bobby’s house when he’d gotten a frantic call from Mary. Dean had been out with his friend, Emily, and they were supposed to be back to the house for dinner. But the fourteen year old girl had run to the house alone and in tears. She said that they had been walking towards the Winchesters’ house and a car had driven up onto the sidewalk, speeding right towards them. Emily claimed that Dean had shoved her out of the way and had dove to the other side, but had gotten clipped by the car. The driver had gotten out and dragged a semi conscious, but still struggling Dean into the vehicle. The driver was dressed all in black, with a hood over his head, gloves on his hands, and a scarf hiding his face. The car had no plates. Emily had gotten to her feet and gone straight to the Winchester home. After hearing the story, Mary had called Bobby’s house, hoping to get a hold of John. 

John had relayed the information to Cas but the angel was no longer able to track Dean. Since the other angels had begun to stick their noses into the Winchesters’ business two years before, Cas had hidden the family from the Heavenly host. Unfortunately that included Castiel himself. But they immediately went home. From that moment on, John had told Cas that his only job was to protect Sammy. There was no doubt in his mind that Dean had been taken by whatever was taking the hunters and their sons and he wasn’t going to lose both of his boys. Also, he was hoping that maybe the creature wouldn’t harm Dean until it had John and Sammy as well, so maybe by protecting Sammy, he’d be protecting Dean as well. It was a long shot, but he wanted to keep up any small amount of hope that he could. He’d also made Mary promise to stay out of the action. If she kept up the role of ‘wife and mother’ she’d be safe, but if she was seen as a hunter, she’d be fair game for this monster. Also, if she stayed with Cas, the angel could protect her as well.

John had then crossed any creatures that couldn’t drive a car off the list of suspects, but was still left with a few. He’d loaded up the Impala with any weapons he’d need to deal with those monsters that were left and threw in the Colt for good measure. And then he… damn it… what had he done next?

He couldn’t remember. John clenched his hands into fists and tried to dredge up the next memory but then something else sprung into the forefront of his mind. It was a clear memory, and one that went along with this case. But it wasn’t the next thing that had happened chronologically. And it wasn’t something that he wanted to remember:

_John is tied to a wooden support beam with his hands behind his back. There is a scratchy burlap bag over his head, blocking out most of the light and all of his vision. His head is ringing, indicating that he’s already sustained a head injury by this point. Then the hunter hears footsteps. They come closer. John doesn’t move, trying to pretend that he is still unconscious. But the footsteps come right up to him and suddenly a massive pain flares out across his chest. He can’t help the scream that erupts from him as he feels some of his ribs give way. A baseball bat. John is almost certain that that is what just broke his bones. Then it connects with his middle again and he doesn’t have the air in his lungs to do more than grunt this time. He hears the bat drop to the floor and takes as deep a breath as he can manage. John wants to ask the creature what it is, what it wants. He wants more than anything to demand to know where his son is. But before he can force any words out between his lips, something much heavier than a baseball bat comes crashing down on his left leg. All the air he’d pulled into his lung goes rushing out in a scream of agony. As it dies down, the hunter could swear that he hears a chuckle. Whatever is beating the crap out of him is a sadistic bastard. The object that just broke John’s leg, probably a mallet of some sort, is noisily discarded. The injured man leans his head back against the beam he’s tied to, fighting back the nausea and the urge to pass out. But he isn’t given the chance to recover as a sharp object cuts into his skin. John tries to twist away but he’s grabbed tightly by one hand while the other continues cutting him. Of course, that means that the creature is close. It has made a mistake. John rams his head forwards and the monster lets out a yelp of pain and surprise as John’s skull makes contact with its face. The hunter tries to shake the sack from his head but suddenly large hands are on his throat and are squeezing and he can’t breathe. Then his head is slammed back into the beam once, twice, three times. John is on the verge of blacking out when he feels the ropes binding him cut away. But he’s far too injured to fight back by now. He’s shoved down to the wooden floor where he lays moaning in pain. Just as he is slipping into unconsciousness, the bag is removed from his head from behind. John doesn’t see the creature that has done this to him. But what he sees makes his blood run cold as his vision turns black. Dean is lying on the ground not far from where he is lying. And the young boy looks like a small broken toy, splashed with dark red paint. John’s last thought before he loses his grip on consciousness is that he’s not certain if his son is still alive._


	104. In and Out of Darkness

Chapter One Hundred and Four: In and Out of Darkness

There had been no news, and despite what the old cliché said, no news was _not_ good news. If Mary didn’t get word on what was going on with her son soon, she was going to go crazy. And all she could do was pace the house and wait and worry. John had left the day before to go find Dean and hadn’t contacted her since. But she had unfortunately been in contact with the police. It seemed that a neighbor had witnessed her son’s abduction and so it had become unavoidable to call in the authorities. Mary knew that Dean hadn’t been taken by some random kidnapper or pedophile but she couldn’t exactly explain to the cops that her twelve year old was most likely being held captive by vampires, a shapeshifter, or some other creature that they’d never even heard of or dreamed possible. Not unless she wanted a one way trip to a white padded room. The only good part about involving the authorities was that it would explain any injuries that Dean would be coming home with. If he came home at all… No, she wasn’t going to think like that.

With a sigh, Mary threw away the almost untouched lunches that were left behind on the plates. Neither she or Sam had had much of an appetite. After putting the plates in the sink, the worried mother had to stop herself from calling Bobby yet again. If he’d heard anything, he would’ve called her. 

As a hunter and Dean’s mom, Mary wanted to grab Castiel and get the hell out of the house. She needed to be on the move, tracking down leads (even though there were none that she knew of), finding the creature, tearing the thing to pieces, and getting her son back. But she was also Sam’s mom and that meant that she couldn’t leave. Her and Castiel had to protect him. Besides, there was a chance that the creature would come here to finish its mission of grabbing her boys and if that happened, she’d be ready for it. Mary was almost hoping that that would be the case because she wanted to hurt the thing that had hurt her son. On the other hand, she didn’t want it anywhere near her youngest.

“Mom, has Dad called yet?”

Mary turned around to see Sam standing in the doorway looking up at her expectantly. “Not yet, sweetie.”

“It got him too, didn’t it?” It was said with such conviction and sorrow that Mary thought that her heart would break.

“I’m sure your dad’s fine, Sammy. He’s probably just not able to get to a phone…”

“I heard you talking with Uncle Bobby. The monster went after the other hunters and their sons. And now it has Dean, and Dad hasn’t called and you got Cas following me around. I may be young Mom, but I’m not stupid. The monster is after us. And it has Dean and probably Dad. Are you going to go after it?”

“No Sammy. I’m staying here with you.” She assured him. Damn, but he was far too smart for eight years old.

“Do you… do you think it’ll come here?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. But if it tries, it won’t get in. Remember, we always tell you how safe this house is?” Mary prayed that whatever was after her family wouldn’t get to her youngest son.

“I remember. And Cas is an angel and can kill anything with that sword he carries. I know I’m safe. I’m more worried ‘bout Dad and Dean.”

“Your dad is a great hunter and Dean is…”

“The best hunter ever.” Sam finished. Mary smiled at the hero-worship that the younger boy clearly held for his big brother. “But I don’t want them to be hurt. Or killed. ‘Cause that can happen, right? The older kids at school, they were talking and they said that even the best soldiers when they went to war sometimes didn’t come back. I don’t want Dean and Dad to not come back.” Tears started to run down the little boy’s face. 

Mary wrapped her arms around her son. “Oh no, Sammy. No. Your dad and Dean are going to come home to us. You just wait and see.” And in her thoughts, the mother hoped that she wasn’t lying.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Most times when Dean was sleeping or unconscious and Cas wasn’t there to keep the memories away, he was plunged into Hell and had to fight to remember that it wasn’t real and struggle to break free and escape back into reality. It had become slightly easier over the years and the boy no longer lost his sense of self or teetered on the brink of insanity but every time he lost touch with the waking world without his angel in his mind, Dean still suffered. Except for this time. Oh he still saw flashes of Hell, still felt Alastair’s blade cut and slice, still experienced all the old tortures, but his mind was fighting it. Dean was trying to stay tethered to the real world for fear that if he gave in and let himself fall into the pit, that he’d never wake from it. Because the young hunter knew that what was going on out in the real world was a horror that rivaled the crap that had occurred in Hell itself.

His memories of what had happened were choppy at best. Dean recalled walking down the sidewalk with Emily, the two of them eating ice creams that they’d purchased from an ice cream truck at the park. He clearly remembered the taste of the chocolate éclair bar and the feel of the sticky melted desert dripping down his hand (or was that blood? No, the blood came later). Then a sound. A car. It was coming right for them. On the sidewalk. Emily… he had to get her out of the way! And he had. Dean had pushed Emily out of the way, and dove to the other side, sure that whoever or whatever was driving the car was after him and would veer to the right rather than the left where Dean’s friend was now lying. Whatever happened next, hopefully Emily would remain safe. The car connected with his left side as he dove and he tumbled to the ground, pain flaring through his arm. Oh god, his arm! It hurt and that wasn’t part of any memory. It hurt now! But back in his memory someone had grabbed him and forced him into a car. The dude was dressed all in black, face completely covered. Maybe some sort of fugly creature? Dean had struggled. Once in the car, the boy had tried to escape even though his arm was clearly broken and his head was ringing and his chest was on fire and blood was dripping down his face. Dean had managed to unlock the car door and had started to open it when a hand had grabbed him and rammed his head into the dashboard. It went dark. 

Then Dean was in a room with wooden floorboards and someone was walking around and then a foot kicked him in the head and he couldn’t remember any more.

Then Dean was in a room with wooden floorboards and someone was walking around and Dean was so quiet hoping that whatever it was that was in the room with him wouldn’t hurt him again because he needed to regroup and get ready to fight back and he couldn’t do that if he was unconscious again. The young hunter slitted one eye opened and saw the figure still dressed all in black and pacing around, carrying a huge mallet in one hand and a large butcher knife in the other. Dean shut his eye immediately. Oh God, he did _not_ want those objects used on him. Maybe the guy was a demon? That would definitely explain the sadistic nature. Or a shifter. It wouldn’t be the first time a shifter had decided to torture Dean. Maybe this was a shifter that was related to the shifter his dad had killed all those years ago and had been killing hunters and their sons this whole time looking for the two of them to get revenge? It made sense. The vampire theory no longer looked right. Nor did any of the creatures that just took people for food or rituals. This whole thing seemed like either revenge or pure sadistic pleasure. Suddenly the footsteps got closer and then a boot came down on Dean’s already broken left arm and ground down on it. Dean screamed in agony as the bones shattered and moved. Then everything went dark again.

Then Dean was in a room with wooden floorboards and someone was walking around and then a hard object that was most likely a baseball bat came crashing down on Dean’s small, unprotected, already abused body. Thankfully, the boy wasn’t conscious very long. 

Then Dean was in a room with wooden floorboards and he heard screaming. For a moment he was confused, wondering who was screaming and why. But then he recognized the voice. Dad. He forced his eyes opened and saw the figure in black drop the mallet on the ground next to a man tied up to a wooden beam with a sack over his head. No… no, Dean had to help his dad. The boy tried to move and his shattered arm screamed at him in agony and he blacked out yet again.

Then Dean was in a room with wooden floorboards and someone was walking past him. Then small hunter opened his eyes and watched the figure get further away from him. The black dressed thing wasn’t that tall or that imposing-looking but it was certainly strong. Dean’s father was lifted up over the figure’s shoulder as if he weighed nothing at all. The boy saw blood dripping from his dad’s prone body to the wooden floor. Tears filled Dean’s eyes. What if his father was dead? Had the black dressed figure killed him? Dean felt unconsciousness pulling at him still. His small body was injured and weak and the effort it was taking him to stay awake was just… it seemed like far too much. The darkness and memories of Hell beckoned him, but the boy struggled to stay here with the pain and these hellish memories instead. He knew that the chances of him being able to do anything were next to nothing, but if he weren’t conscious, then those chances dropped to nothing at all. 

Dean watched as the black dressed figure opened a door and disappeared. The small hunter heard what sounded like footsteps going down stairs. He took the time that he was alone to think. So, he’d been kidnapped and beaten, but by who? And why? And then his dad had been taken too. Which fit the pattern. But that still didn’t answer the who/why questions. He thought back to his previous shifter and demon theories. Maybe. But there was only one way to find out. When the figure came back up, Dean would have to get him talking. Even if that meant more pain.

The small, injured hunter closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. He needed to stay calm and try to conserve all of his energy and strength. What very little he had. Dean tried not to think about the many wounds covering his body or the way that he had begun to shake a bit. Or the fact that his dad might very well be dead. And that Dean himself was probably well on his way to joining him. Nope, not thinking about any of that. Just concentrating on breathing and getting ready for the upcoming confrontation. 

Then there were footsteps again. This time they were coming upstairs and getting closer with each step. A door closed. Dean listened to them as they proceeded right up to stand in front of him. Then they stopped.

It was time. Dean was tired of being the victim to this dark figure. He couldn’t stop the torture, but he wasn’t just going to lie here and take it without saying a word. It was time for him to speak up and hopefully get some answers. At the very least, he’d throw some sarcasm at his attacker while he got the crap beaten out of him. Because he was Dean Winchester, damn it, and he wasn’t going to die quietly.


	105. What Makes a Monster

Chapter One Hundred and Five: What Makes a Monster 

The dark figure stood over Dean, still dressed completely in black with most of his face covered by a thin black scarf. The young hunter glared up at him, no longer trying to disguise the fact that he was awake. The figure’s icy grey eyes stared back at him and he knelt down next to the boy. Dean was a bit relieved to see that his captor was unarmed, but considering the dude’s strength, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t do any damage. But still, the smaller of the two refused to back down. 

“What are you?” Dean asked. He was disappointed when his voice came out weak and raspy. He’d been going for strong and defiant. Oh well.

“What am I?” The figure’s voice was smooth and surprisingly quiet. Dean had been expecting it to be rough and loud.

“Yeah. What. Are. You. Demon? Shifter? Some dorky bitch I’ve never heard of?”

The figure stared right at him. Dean expected the eyes to turn black, but that didn’t happen. The figure instead pulled its hood back, revealing dark brown hair that was slightly long and matted down. Then the dude unwound the black scarf and let it fall to the floor. If the small hunter had been waiting for some startling reveal, he’d have been sorely disappointed. The figure, whatever it was, definitely looked normal enough. It had a young look to it, maybe mid-twenties if it had been human, and there was nothing remarkable about the guy’s face. Dean and the mystery dude stared at each other for another long moment before he answered the boy’s question.

“I’m you. And you’re me.”

“Uh… no. I’m a hell of a lot better looking. And if you’re gonna suddenly shift into my form, just letting you know, been there, done that, didn’t end well for that shifter. And if you’re gonna try and tell me that you’re me from the future or some crap like that, I’m not buying it ‘cause I happen to know that I’m quite a bit sexier than that when I grow up.”

Dean’s rambling was stopped by a hand smacking him across his face. It was far from the most painful thing he’d been through, but it still stung and made his aching head spin. “I’m not you like that, you idiot! But I was just like you are now. An innocent little child, just waiting to die. And just like me, the hunters will fail to save you.”

Dean blinked his eyes a few time to clear his vision. “Fail to save you? I don’t understand. What are you?” He asked again.

“Why do you keep asking me that? I’m not anything. I’m just a person.”

“You’re human?” The injured hunter asked.

“Yes! Why would you even ask?”

“Uh, let me think… you kidnap me, torture me, take my dad, did God knows what to him, and I know that you’re the one who’s responsible for the disappearance and possible death of all those hunters and their sons. So, yeah, I kinda figured that you were some kind of monster. And human or not, I still think you’re a monster.”

That earned him a booted foot in the ribs as the man stood up straight. “I’m not the monster of this story!”

“This isn’t a story, douche-bag!” Dean gasped out. “This is life.”

The guy continued as if the boy hadn’t spoken. “I was innocent, just like you. And then… then came the monster. It tore into my parents’ house, came up the stairs, and it ripped my mom and dad to pieces. That… that is a monster, Dean. I saw the whole thing from where I was hiding in their closet. I don’t know how I managed to stay quiet… I don’t know. I wanted to scream. To cry. But I was so scared, so I stayed quiet as it shredded them, and broke them, and when they were dead, it dropped their bodies on the floor and left. I still couldn’t move. I stayed in that closet for another hour or so and that’s when the man came into the room. He was dressed in old torn up clothes and was holding a weapon and I thought he was there to finish what the monster had started. And that was when I started to cry. The man found me. He told me that he was a hunter and that he’d get what killed my parents. Then he left me there. I sat on the floor next to my dead parents for hours. I expected the police to show up or something, but I guess I never realized that there was no reason for them to come. No one had called them. I would occasionally move to use the bathroom, and I think I’d get drinks of water, but other than that I just sat in my parents’ room staring at their broken and bloody bodies until the hunter came back almost two days later. He said that the monster was dead. He said it like it was a good thing. Like I should congratulate him or something.” The guy’s voice got louder and rougher for a moment before settling back down. “The hunter asked if I had relatives to go stay with. I didn’t. I have an uncle who hates kids and grandparents who were too old to care for me. The hunter took me with him. I found out later that he saw something in me that he thought would make a good hunter. He thought I wanted revenge. I did. But it’s not the monsters that need to die. It’s the hunters that fail to protect the innocents. Can you imagine it? The nerve of that hunter? _He_ fails to save my parents, then kills the monster and wants to be seen as a hero? Then he takes me in to train me so I could become a failure just like him? No. No, the hunters have to be punished for failing the innocents like me.”

Dean shook his head, and then immediately regretted it as the room spun around him. “You’re killing all those hunters because you blame that one guy for getting there a little too late? Seriously? By that reasoning, all police should be blamed for the crimes that criminals commit.”

“Why not? They should be out there preventing it!”

“Yeah… you know that you’re nuts, right?”

The guy picked Dean up and threw him across the room. The boy let out a cry of agony as his shattered arm collided with the ground and the world started to gray out. He fought it though, as he didn’t want to lose consciousness. Dean let out the most pathetic whimper as he curled in on himself and tried to stay focused on the room around him. Footsteps announced his tormentor’s approach. 

“I’m not crazy! You just… you don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t understand how you can murder the very people that kill the creatures that slaughter millions of innocents. And what I really don’t get is why you torture and kill their sons too. Why? Some of those boys that disappeared were as young as seven years old? Why them? Why me?” Dean felt his entire body tremble with a combination of shock and the effort of remaining awake. 

“The hunters die to be punished. But not before they see their innocent sons die like my innocence died so long ago thanks to them.” The guy wiped his forehead and Dean realized that the dude was sweating and kind of pale. 

“You can’t blame the hunters. They try their best but sometimes they can’t track the monsters until there is a trail. And unfortunately sometimes that trail means bodies.”

“No! Don’t you dare defend them!” The guy screamed, but instead of delivering another blow, he ran his hands through his hair, grasping at the strands and pulling. Then he started to pace back and forth. “You don’t know. You can’t know. You’re the child of a hunter. You think that they are right. You don’t know. You just don’t know!”

“Okay man, I don’t know.” Dean agreed, wary of the guy’s sudden change in mood. 

“It’s not… they just… I don’t…” The guy pulled his black hooded sweatshirt off and dropped it on the floor. Then he started to rub at his bare arms as if he were cold.

“Maybe you should calm down.” Dean suggested. “Have a seat and…”

“Shut up! I didn’t ask you!” The guy stalked over to him and grabbed Dean up by the front of his shirt, pulling the boy to his feet. From that position, Dean could clearly see track marks on the man’s arms. Drugs. Well, that explained the dude’s strength and a bit of his erratic behavior. The rest of the guy’s issues were clearly due to insanity. “And what you say doesn’t even matter, because you’re going to die before this day is done! And then I’m going to drag your father back up here and show him your pathetic corpse and then I’ll snap his neck.” 

By that point the guy was shaking almost as badly as Dean was, and he almost dropped the boy when he released one hand to pull a switchblade knife out from his pocket. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

John was beyond exhausted as he dragged his injured body across the cement floor towards what he hoped was the exit. He’d decided to head in the opposite direction as the bodies. They had all been there before him and it didn’t make much sense that the creature would step over the corpses to deposit him onto the ground. So he pulled himself forwards a bit and then would feel all around himself for any clues. Upon finding nothing, he’d continue onwards. 

After what seemed like forever, John’s hand touched what had to be a step. Well, that was kind of a good news/bad news situation. The good news was that he’d found his way out. The bad news was that John wasn’t one hundred percent positive that he was going to be able to drag himself up the stairs. But he had to. Dean was up there with whatever had taken them and the boy needed help. The father wasn’t sure what kind of help he’d be able to provide even if he reached his son, but he had to try. 

The injured hunter pulled his broken body up the stairs, one step at a time. He rested twice, not really wanting to waste the time but also aware of the fact that pushing himself too much would be dangerous. 

It took forever, yet was all too soon when John’s hand brushed against a wooden barrier. The door. 

With a grunt, he managed to get himself balanced on his good knee on the top step and grasped the door knob. It was unlocked. The door swung open easily and John spilled out onto the wooden floor. 

When the hunter pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked up, he was greeted by a sight out of his nightmares. A man was holding Dean up by the front of the boy’s blood stained t-shirt with one hand and the other hand held the handle of a knife. And the blade of the knife was buried in his son’s side.


	106. Together

Chapter One Hundred and Six: Together 

He didn’t have a clue as to how long he stared at his son hanging from the guy’s hand with the knife protruding from the boy’s side and blood just about everywhere on his small battered body, but when John finally managed to tear his eyes away from that gruesome sight and fixed his gaze upon the attacker he couldn’t hold back his gasp. He just couldn’t believe it.

“You…” The hunter growled as he stared at the young man that he’d worked with only days ago. What the hell had his name been? Paul something or another. The young hunter that had provided John with his first lead on the creature that had been killing their peers and the boys. But now it seemed that Paul wasn’t quite as helpful as he had seemed. Unless he was possessed… “Christo.” 

“I’m not a demon!” The guy shouted, dropping Dean to the floor. “I’m not a monster! What the hell is wrong with you people! I’m the hero here. Not you. Not those assholes that I took care of. Me!” Paul waved his hands in the air violently, looking nothing like the cool, eager hunter that John had dealt with a few days ago.

“A hero?” John repeated incredulously. “You cannot be serious. You killed all those people. Those people, _they_ were the heroes. They saved countless lives. And those kids… they were just children and you slaughtered them too! You’re worse than a demon.”

“Oh, and you’re one to judge me, John Winchester. How many lives have ended because you failed to save them? You claim to be a hero, but you let down the innocent people that count on you!”

“I’ve never claimed to be a hero.” John countered. “I just do my best to help save as many lives as I can and to keep my family safe.”

“And who was looking out for my family! Who was keeping them safe?” Paul screamed. “No one! You self-righteous pieces of crap deserve death for what you’ve done!”

“So something killed your family?”

“Ripped my parent to pieces. Right in front of me.”

John nodded. “And you were trained by a hunter after that.” It wasn’t a question.

“He was the first I killed. Since the ass never spoke much with the rest of you losers I guess he was never missed.”

The injured hunter tried to ignore the callous way that the deranged man spoke of a person’s death. “Then you had a chance. You had a chance to take a tragedy and use it to become something more. To rise above all this and save others. Instead you became this.” John shook his head sadly. “And you pretended to be a hunter to get close to me. Why?”

Paul let out a laugh. It sounded more than slightly manic and John wondered how the guy had ever passed for normal. “Not just you. All of them. All those stupid hunters. I provided them with the ‘lead’ they needed and they played right into my hands.”

John glanced over and saw Dean lift his head and look around. The boy looked barely conscious but the father knew that his son would still do what needed to be done. Together they’d get out of this alive. John just had to keep the guy talking and distracted. And since the insane murderer obviously was in love with the sound of his own voice, it wouldn’t be that hard of a trick.

“By why go through all of that?”

“To get to know you. Your names and if you have kids. Then I know who to target. You shook my hand and gave me your full name. I found out through conversation how far away you lived and it wasn’t too hard to look up your address after that. Then I went on ahead and waited until Dean left the house so I could grab him.”

John could’ve kicked himself. He never gave out his address or personal information but Paul was right. Casual conversation had given the psychopath enough to go and get at Dean. “But why Dean? Why only him?” With other families, this guy had taken more than one child.

A confused look crossed Paul’s face. “What do you mean _only him_? Dean is your only kid, isn’t he? He’s the only son you ever mentioned.”

John wanted to laugh. He knew exactly why he hadn’t mentioned Sammy. When he’d been talking to Paul earlier he’d been nervous that Dean was going to do something stupid (like trying to follow John out on this job) and get himself killed, so he’d mentioned that he was scared for his son. But it had never even crossed his mind to be frightened for Sammy. His youngest son was secure in their well-protected home with Mary who was more than capable of keeping him safe. So Sammy’s name had never even come up. And now John was extremely grateful for that. “So you don’t do any kind of research besides getting ‘friendly’ with the hunters you intend to torture and kill?”

“Why would I need to? You idiots tell me all that I need to know.”

“Not everything. Like for instance, you didn’t know that my son isn’t just a hunter’s kid. He’s a hunter too.” John declared.

As the words left his mouth, Dean lunged forwards with the knife that he had pulled from his side and buried it deep into the back of Paul’s knee. Paul let out a shriek of pain as he collapsed to the ground. The enraged man backhanded Dean across the face and the boy crumpled onto the wooden floor. 

John ignored the agony that radiated from his broken leg as he crawled across the space in between them and threw himself onto Paul. He had absolutely no chance in a hand to hand fight with the man, and he knew it, but luckily for him, that wasn’t his plan. When he’d worked with the young pretend-hunter, John had noticed that the guy had kept a gun tucked into his pants at the small of his back. He prayed that it was still there. 

For once, luck smiled upon the Winchester family. John’s hand closed around the butt of the gun just as Paul threw the larger man off of himself. John hit the ground hard and rolled. The hunter somehow managed to suppress the pain he was in and controlled his roll. He came up facing the psychopath that had captured, tortured, and tried to kill his son. John raised the gun, released the safety, and shot him twice in the chest as Paul took a single step towards him. The man’s body hit the floor and John didn’t even spare him a glance as he dragged his injured body towards Dean. 

When he reached his son, the concerned father realized that the boy was unconscious once again. Dean’s left arm was obviously broken, bent in an unnatural position. There were cuts and bruises all over the boy’s body and blood was dribbling down out of his side where he’d been stabbed. John groaned in pain as he struggled out of his jacket and then balled it up and pressed it against the wound. Dean let out a tiny whimper but remained motionless. The hunter looked around the room, hoping to see a phone to call for help, but there was none in sight. And he was just so damned tired.

John felt his body giving out under the strain and stress of all he’d been through. He suddenly found himself lying on his side on the wooden floor and he reached out and gathered Dean up into his arms and pulled the boy close. The father angled the boy’s body so that his own arm would keep pressure on the bleeding wound even if they were both unconscious. Of course, he knew that they wouldn’t last very long left alone in this hellhole, injured and bleeding, but at that moment he could barely find the energy to breathe, let alone get himself and Dean to safety. So he just held his son tightly and let himself drift off into the darkness.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean fought his way out of his memories of Hell only to be greeted by more pain and agony. Everything hurt and for one very brief moment, the boy wondered if perhaps Hell was real after all. But then he felt strong arms wrapped around him and warm breath ghosting over his face sporadically. Dean moaned a bit as he attempted to look around himself. He was still in that Godforsaken room but this time someone was holding him tightly, but not in a threatening manner. It was comforting and made him feel safe although he knew that he probably wasn’t. Dad. His dad was hugging him even though Dean could tell that the man was unconscious. The boy was concerned for his dad but the uneven breaths let him know that the man was alive at least. 

The small hunter tried to extract himself from his dad’s grip, wanting to get up so that he could assess their situation. He remembered stabbing their attacker, and since neither of them was dead and the guy wasn’t hovering over them threatening their lives, Dean figured that his father had finished the job. But he still had to get up and see if they could call for help. But even the smallest of moves made his arm scream out in agony and white hot pain radiate from his side. Oh yeah, he’d been stabbed. He was lucky that he hadn’t bled to death yet. Oh, not luck. His dad had put pressure on the wound. Dean settled back into his previous position. No use undoing all the hard work that his father had put in to keeping him alive. With his good arm, he held onto his father and then he buried his face into the man’s shoulder. Everything hurt so badly. And he was so tired. So very tired.

Dean knew that he was in no condition to get up and look around for a phone. He couldn’t remember seeing one in this room anyways and something told him that this guy probably didn’t have many friends to call. And if all the screaming and noise hadn’t brought the neighbors running or had anyone calling the cops, chances were that there were no houses close enough for Dean to make his way to to get some help. So his only hope was to rest up and pray that he’d get up enough energy to come up with some kind of clever plan and then carry it out. 

But for now, the small, injured boy clung to his dad and allowed himself to drift back into the darkness.


	107. Found

Chapter One Hundred and Seven: Found 

Nothing. Hours upon hours of research and placing calls to all of his contacts and that’s exactly what Bobby Singer had to show for it. Nothing. Not a single lead. Not even a goddamned hint of a lead. Which just pissed him off beyond belief. Dean was counting on him. And probably John was as well. Because now it seemed that John Winchester had disappeared too and Bobby had to find and save both of their asses. But there was no trace of them. Nor was there a trace of what they had been hunting. Which made no sense if he thought about it. Because some hunter had been able to track the creature without even knowing what it had been. Had tracked it right down to the town it had been in, just a bit too late. So just how the hell had a young hunter with almost no connections tracked this thing when Bobby couldn’t?

Bobby picked up his phone and dialed.

“Hey Taylor, it’s Bobby.”

“Singer, I don’t got no more info for you.”

“I know. But I still want to ask ya questions.”

“Fine, whatever. Got nothing else to do while I drink my beer. So, shoot.”

“There’s some pieces here not makin’ much sense ta me. This thing’s been killin’ us off and no one no where has any leads? That strike ya as a bit odd?”

There was a pause. “Yeah, a bit. I mean, a case like this, you’d think the bastard would be strung up over a fire by now. But there gotta be leads. Stew and his boy were following one when they disappeared.”

“Ya know what lead they were followin’?”

“If I knew, I woulda told you when we spoke before. But the guy to ask is some hunter named Paul Brookes. I don’t have his contact info, but if you ask around someone might.”

Bobby just about dropped the phone. “Paul Brookes? Is he the one that gave the lead to Stew?” 

“Yep. Don’t know much about him but Stew said that he seemed like a real good kid. Bit inexperienced and didn’t know what exactly it was they were hunting but he seemed to have tracked the thing well enough. Maybe he could help you. Sorry I didn’t think of him before. Maybe my ex was right and all this beer _is_ rotting my brain after all.”

Bobby chuckled. “I wouldn’t go _that_ far. I don’t think there was a truthful word that ever came outta that old woman’s mouth.”

“Amen to that, Singer. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Taylor.” Bobby hung up the phone. 

Paul. He was the same kid that had been working with John and Cas. So Paul had given a similar lead to at least two hunters that had disappeared soon after. It was a place to start. Bobby looked through his book of numbers. Time to place some more calls.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

“Yes… okay… so, what are we thinking he is? Uh huh… no, I guess it really doesn’t matter what he is as long as Castiel has his blade. That thing kills just about anything. Okay… right… thanks so much, Bobby. I’ll send Castiel out immediately.”

Castiel was sitting at the Winchesters’ dining room table next to Sam as the two of them listened in on Mary’s phone conversation. They had sat down to eat but had only taken a couple of bites when the ringing of the telephone had interrupted them. The police and some reporters had called earlier, so when Mary had answered, she had sounded a bit angry but her tone had softened upon hearing the older hunter’s voice. From what Castiel had overheard, Bobby had managed to find a lead on where John and Dean had disappeared to. And now it seemed that the angel was about to be sent out to rescue them. He found that he was looking forward to it. His concern over his young friend was driving him insane.

“Dean and your husband have been found?” Castiel asked as soon as Mary stepped in.

“Are they okay, Mom?” Sam asked. “What took them? Was it a demon?”

Mary looked between them before answering. “Bobby found a connection between most of the disappearances. Castiel, do you remember the hunter that helped you and John? A Paul Brookes?”

Castiel nodded once. “Yes. He seemed inexperienced but eager to help. A bit off, maybe, like he’d seen true darkness before, but that is a quality of many hunters. Why?”

“It seems that Paul gave similar leads to several of the hunters shortly before they went missing. Maybe all of them, but we can’t be sure since not all the hunters would’ve spoken of it. In each case he was able to somehow track the creature but failed to identify it and never reached it in time. Then he’d leave the area and shortly thereafter the hunter and their son would go missing.”

“So Paul is either the one responsible or he’s working with it.” Castiel summarized. 

“That’s what it appears.” Mary conceded. 

“So Cas goes and gets Dean and Dad back from Paul, right?” Sam wanted to know.

“Paul never told us where he lived.” Castiel informed them.

“That’s because as far as Bobby can figure, he doesn’t have a home. Word from other hunters is that his parents were killed when he was just a kid and a nomadic hunter took him in. He’s been traveling around ever since.”

“So we don’t know where John and Dean are? But I heard you tell Bobby that I’d go out immediately.”

“Paul doesn’t have a home. But there is one place that he might be. His parent’s had a place in Raton, New Mexico. That’s where they were killed and it was kept in the family but left abandoned. It’s only about a ten hour drive from here.”

Castiel was more than ready to go. “Let me know the address and I’ll go rescue them.”

Mary recited the address that Bobby had given her. “And please take the cellular phone with you. I wish I had thought to buy one of those things _before_ John had left.”

Castiel picked up the device from where it was lying on the kitchen counter. They were far from the common place objects they would soon be, but at least now they had one. He could keep in touch while he went out to retrieve his friends and kill whatever had taken them.

So, placing the phone in his pocket and pulling his angel sword out, Castiel disappeared from the Winchesters’ home and appeared just outside the rundown house that had once belonged to Paul Brooke’s parents. It was a lonely-looking, desolate place at the end of a long drive out in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. If the angel squinted, he could just make out what had to be another house in the distance, but it was clear that the Brookes family had bought this place wanting some privacy. Maybe the land around it had once been beautiful and this was their refuge, but now it was the perfect place for a creature to keep and kill hunters and their sons. 

Castiel reached out with his senses and, now that he was close enough, he could feel Dean. The boy was still alive but was clearly in bad shape. The angel extended his powers but felt no demonic energy inside the house or anything to indicate that a monster was inside. But some creatures were tricky and Castiel would not let his guard down. Not when Dean’s life was counting on him. The angel held his blade at the ready, raised his other hand, and blew the front door wide open.

The fight that he was expecting never came. Castiel cautiously entered into a dingy, gutted-out kitchen, closed the door behind him, and crossed the room quickly, his weapon still out in front of him. The moment that the angel crossed through the doorway that separated that room from the next however, he abandoned all caution and ran forward to drop to his knees next to Dean and John. They were unconscious and lying in a pool of their collective blood, embracing one another. Both were pale and had many obvious injuries. Castiel yearned to reach out and heal them, but that would be a red flag that would bring the other angels running and that was just what they _didn’t_ need right now. Or ever. 

The best move would probably be to transport them back home. Or to a hospital, if they were gravely injured. 

But before he settled on a plan, Castiel took a quick look around the room. He spared a glance back at the corpse he had passed on his way in. Paul Brookes. And the angel got no sense that there had been anything demonic or supernatural about him. There wasn’t even a trace of anything on him, so it was unlikely that he’d been coerced into his actions. He’d been human and he’d done _this_. 

It seemed that Castiel had arrived too late and the threat had been taken care of. If the gun lying close to John’s hand was any indication, it had been the older Winchester that had seen to that. But now it was up to Castiel to make certain that both hunters survived.

The angel considered laying his hands on them and taking them straight to the hospital, since he didn’t like the way that they were breathing and they both had bones that were obviously broken, but figured it would be best to call Mary first.

The worried wife and mother answered on the first ring. “Castiel, did you find them? Are they alright?”

“I found them. Paul is dead. John shot him before I arrived. But John and Dean both need immediate medical attention. I believe a hospital would be the best place for them. Is that alright and which should I bring them to?” Castiel waited impatiently for her answer. He just wanted to gather his friend and the boy’s father up and deliver them somewhere where he could demand that they be cared for.

There was a brief pause. “How bad are they? Can they hold on for a few minutes?”

“I believe so. Why?”

“Because the police are involved, Castiel. They know that Dean is missing, was taken, and if suddenly the two of them mysteriously appear in a hospital in bad condition it’ll raise questions. I think the best course of action is for me to call the police and tell them I got a call from an anonymous source claiming that my son was being held at that address. That will be enough to get the police over there to check it out and they’ll find John and Dean and take care of them from there. We can think up a story as to why he would’ve taken John later. And the shooting would certainly be ruled as self-defense.”

By now, Castiel decided it was time to interrupt. “Are you certain?”

“Any other way will cause questions that we can’t answer. And we can’t afford to be under intense scrutiny.”

“Alright. I’ll stay with them and stay out of sight when the police arrive.”

“Thank you, Castiel.”

The angel hung up and put the phone away. He wasn’t particularly thrilled with Mary’s plan but he conceded that it made sense. Still, if either Dean or John showed signs of getting any worse, Castiel would transport them to a hospital himself in a heartbeat and worry about the consequences later.

After five minutes, nothing had changed but Castiel was growing more worried anyway. Five minutes after that, he was certain that Dean’s breathing had slowed, but when he checked closer, he realized that the boy’s breaths hadn’t changed at all. By the time that the angel had been in the house for twenty minutes, he was alternating between pacing and crouching down near his friends to check their weak vitals. It was over half an hour later when Castiel finally heard a car pull up outside the house. He went into what Dean liked to call ‘stealth mode’.

There was a knock at the door. Then another. “Hello, Mr. Charles Barnes?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side. That must be the relative that ended up with ownership of this place. Nice that he took so much interest in it.

A different voice called through the door. “Are you home? This is the Raton police. We need to talk to you about your cousin, Paul Brookes.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. Right, because if the man was here and was helping a kidnapper he’d just open the door and talk with the police.

“Let’s go in.” The first policeman said in what the guy obviously thought was a quiet voice.

“We don’t have a warrant and there’s no proof anything’s going on here. Hell, the guy may own the place but I doubt he’s ever set foot on the property.”

“Then he’ll never know if we go in and look around.”

“Let’s report back in.” Policeman number two responded.

Castiel had had enough. Dean and John needed help now. They couldn’t wait for those two officers to decide that it was time to do something other than talk outside the door. The angel remembered Dean mentioning something about how police were able to enter if they had a ‘justifiable cause’. Well, he’d give them one.

“Help!” Castiel yelled. “I need help!”

Seconds later, the door was slammed open and the two officers rushed in. They took in the three visible people lying on the wooden floor in the living room and immediately called for both backup and an ambulance. Castiel still didn’t allow himself to feel any sense of relief until he heard the sirens close to their location. Then, and only then, did he begin to believe that his friends would truly be alright.


	108. An Unusual Case

Chapter One Hundred and Eight: An Unusual Case

Officer Scott Anderson no longer wanted anything to do with this case. At first he’d been kind of excited when his partner had told him about it. So far, he’d only been called on really small, kind of stupid stuff; the most exciting of which being the old woman that had tried to sneak a fifteen pound ham out of the supermarket in her purse. While being questioned, she’d proceeded to smack his partner in the face with the very same purse (luckily the ham had long since been removed) and had tried to make a run for it. Scott had calmly strolled after her, cuffed her, and walked her out to the patrol car. It had been hilarious, but far from a thrilling chase. And it had put Marc (his older and grumpier partner) in a crappy mood for the rest of the day (week). So when Marc had informed him of this case, a possible kidnapper living amongst them, he’d been excited. Not because he wanted glory or stuff like that (not that that would be unwelcome though) but because he’d become a policeman to help people, not to stop old women from taking food after their husbands ran off with a younger woman and left them with no means to buy what they needed to survive. But then they arrived at this rundown house and Marc had wanted to leave just because the guy wouldn’t open the door. Like a kidnapper would just open the door and let the police in if he was holding a child in here against the kid’s will, right? Luckily, as they had stood arguing outside the front door, a call for help had come from inside the house. They had rushed in to find three bodies sprawled out on the ground. One was clearly dead; shot two times in the chest. The other two didn’t seem to be in much better shape, bloody and broken. From the way that they were clinging to one another it was clear to Scott that they were family. Father and son. The officer would bet his career that they’d just found Dean Winchester but that the boy’s father had been the one to rescue him long before the police had gotten their tip about this place. Scott remembered his own dad and all the people that the man had saved before being shot down during that damned bank robbery seven years ago. He shook his head. Time and place. Looking around though, he was presented with his first question on this case. Who had called out for help? Everyone in the room was either dead or unconscious. There was no one that could’ve yelled out to them. And that’s when Scott started to feel like maybe he really didn’t want this case after all.

While Marc called for backup, Scott radioed in for an ambulance and told them to hurry. He wanted to kneel down and check on the injured family himself, but didn’t dare touch them in case he caused more damage. His trained eyes took in the gun near the father’s hand and silently congratulated the man on disposing of the sicko that would harm a child like that. 

Scott ran out to their squad car and retrieved his camera. He wanted to take a couple pictures of the scene so that there wouldn’t be any questions later on as to what had happened. He made sure to document everything so that it would be clear that this was definitely a case of self defense.

“Stay with them, I’m going to have a look around.” Marc announced when Scott finally lowered the camera.

“Sure thing.”

He watched from the corner of his eye as his partner walked off. It was only a moment later when he realized that he had a feeling like he was being watched. Scott looked around, his hand on the butt of his weapon, trying to determine whether there was actually a threat or if he was letting this place get to him. Strangely enough, neither conclusion seemed right. It was as if there was someone or something in the room with the officer and the unconscious father and son but it meant them no harm. Which was ridiculous, of course. His father had told him that years ago when he’d insisted that he’d seen that spirit of the small boy that had been hit by a car out past old man Vick’s place, and the boy had just stood there and reached out towards him sadly, but had never tried to harm him like the ghosts did in the stories that his friend Billy always told. Scott, who had been only nine at the time, had been so startled that he’d stopped dead and just stared at the spirit as a car suddenly sped around the blind corner and right passed the spot where he would’ve been walking had the boy’s ghost not stopped him. When Scott was able to breathe again, the spirit had smiled at him and flickered out of sight. Yet when Scott had told his Dad, he’d been told that the supernatural wasn’t real and no unseen forces were out there looking out for people. So why he was standing here now, as an adult, feeling as if there was a comforting presence in the room was beyond him. But still, he couldn’t shake that feeling.

But the officer didn’t have much time to dwell on it. As he glanced around the room, he heard Marc call to him from downstairs.

“Damn, Scotty! There’s a whole hell of a lot more dead bodies down here, man. Some men, some teens, and some boys. It’s a mess. Oh god! I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Of course not. Even though Marc had been on the force longer than Scott had, the toughest case he’d ever had had been a hold up at the local gas station. And the perp hadn’t even had a real gun.

The officer walked to the top of the stairs, still keeping an eye on the injured father and son. “Are you sure they’re all dead? Maybe when the paramedics get here…”

“Way too late to be saved, man. Some of these guys look like horror movie rejects.”

“A little respect for the dead, Marc.” Scott snapped. “You said some of them were kids.”

“They’re too dead to care, Scotty.” The younger officer could practically hear his partner’s eye roll.

“I’ll remember that when they ask me to make the speech at your funeral.”

Scott wandered back over to where the still breathing victims were lying on the ground holding on to one another for dear life. He felt so bad for them that they had had to go through all that. They’d obviously been tortured and had probably thought that they were going to die. He couldn’t imagine how scared the poor child must’ve been. And then the dad had had to kill a man. This experience was going to scar them for life. If they made it through alive.

Just then, Scott heard the sirens on the ambulances. Thank God. The sooner these two got to the hospital, the better. It was only about a ten minute drive to the Miners’ Colfax Medical Center and hopefully both operating rooms would be open. 

The officer stood by as he heard the emergency vehicles pull up outside and then he rushed to the front door to wave the paramedics inside. Scott led them to the boy and his father and watched as they did their best to stabilize them for the trip. The presence that he’d been feeling seemed to almost brush past him to reach Dean when the boy started to moan and thrash about. Seconds later, the child relaxed. Scott began to think that something really was looking out for that kid.

The ambulances were just pulling away when more vehicles started pulling up. Backup and all the people they’d need to properly process the scene. Scott hoped that he’d be involved in the work upstairs because he really didn’t want to look at the bodies of dead children. Or maybe they’d just send him back to the station to get a start on his paperwork. Yeah, right. Because he’d ever been _that_ lucky.

He let out a groan when he saw Officer Craig Fields getting out of his SUV. The senior officer had his eye on two things; making chief of police and making Scott’s life miserable. Not necessarily in that order. 

“Officer Anderson, report.” Officer Fields barked.

“Upon arriving, we announced our presence and received no response. But then we heard a cry for help come from inside. So we entered and found three people lying on the living room floor. One was dead from two gun shot wounds to the chest. The other two were a man and a boy who’d been badly beaten. A gun was lying close to the man’s hand. We called it in and then I took pictures of everything. Officer Cutler further investigated the house and discovered more bodies downstairs, all deceased. The ambulances arrived and took the injured victims to the hospital shortly before you arrived.”

“Good, then you can go down to the hospital and take the victims’ statements.” 

“Uh, sir, they’re critically injured. They are going to be in the operating rooms for hours and then recovery. It could be a very long time before they’re able to make any sort of statement.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to wait around there for a while, won’t you?” Officer Fields commented with a smirk.

“Yes, sir.” Scott responded. He knew better than to argue. Even if it meant spending hours or even days camped out at the hospital. With a sigh, the officer turned and walked over to the top of the stairs. “Hey Marc, everyone’s here now. Fields is sending me over to Miners’ Colfax to take the victims’ statements, so I’m gonna take the car. I’m sure you can bum a ride with someone. See you.”

On his way to the front door, Officer Fields ‘accidently’ bumped into him. “Watch where you’re going, rookie.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Sorry, sir.” He’d been on the force long enough to no longer be considered a rookie but he didn’t think the ass would ever quit it with the nickname. 

When he got to his car, Scott got that feeling of being watched again. But this time there was nothing comforting about it. It gave him a creepy, crawly kind of a feeling up his spine. The officer tried to pass it off as a side effect of this case but as he reached for the door handle, he heard a strange fluttering sort of sound. Scott Anderson spun around with his hand on the butt on his weapon to see a man standing only a couple feet away.

“Who are you?” He demanded, not letting the slight amount of fear he was feeling show in his voice. “This is a crime scene. You don’t belong here.”

The man smiled. Scott got the feeling that it was supposed to be reassuring but it was far from it. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m here to help. I’m looking for a small boy and I have reason to believe that he might’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave.”

“It’s very important that I find him.”

“I can’t discuss the details of any active cases with the public. I don’t even know how you got in here without being stopped, but if you don’t leave now, I’ll have to escort you out.” Scott informed him.

“Dean Winchester. You’d know him if you met him. He makes quite an impression.”

The young officer didn’t like the way that the slightly portly man in front of him grinned as he made that comment. Hell, he just really didn’t like anything about the guy. And he just knew that the man’s intentions were _not_ good. Maybe that was why he said what he did next. 

“I’m sorry sir, but the only people we discovered in that house were dead. A list of names should be available within a few days but until then, I won’t ask you again to remove yourself from my crime scene. And you better not make me remove you.”

The guy, who had a feeling to him that wasn’t quite right, leaned forward and glared at Scott. “Watch who you talk to like that, boy.”

Scott narrowed his eyes even as his heart picked up speed. “I could say the same.”

A door slammed back at the house and Officer Scott Anderson turned to signal that he might need some assistance but then he heard that weird rustling sound again and when he turned back, the man was gone. 

Yeah. He was really wishing that he hadn’t been assigned this case. But he had and it wasn’t over yet.

Scott drove down to Miners’ Colfax Medical Center and parked his squad car in the area designated for long term parking. He knew that he could park closer, it wasn’t like he’d get a ticket even if he was stuck inside for days waiting, but it wouldn’t be right if others needed to park close to get inside in a hurry. Besides, he’d likely be sitting in a plastic chair for hours to come, so he’d take advantage of the excuse for a longer walk now. 

Once inside, the police officer went to the desk and smiled at the receptionist.

“Hi, Beth.”

“Hey, Scott. What brings you by?” The pretty girl asked. They’d gone to high school together and he’d had a crush on her for most of those four years.

“I’m here to talk to the Winchesters. You know, whenever they’re out of surgery and in any condition to talk.” 

“Okay. I’ll have the doctor let you know. If you need to, you can talk with the family. They just arrived.” The dark haired receptionist pointed over to where a woman sat with a man in a trench coat and a small boy. 

Scott shook his head. “Are you certain that’s the Winchester family?”

“Yep. Just spoke with them.” Beth nodded. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay Scott?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Now he was even more confused. The tip about the missing boy had come in from the police station in Lawrence, Kansas. A good ten hours away. How the hell had the Winchesters gotten here already? This case was getting more and more bizarre. Scott took a deep breath and approached them. As he got close, he felt that strange presence from the house. The officer tried to shake it off. “Mrs. Winchester?”

The woman stood. “Yes?”

“I’m Officer Scott Anderson. I was at the house when your husband and son were found.”

Mrs. Winchester gave a small smile. “Oh. Well, thank you, officer. I’m extremely grateful that they were rescued in time.”

Scott smile back. “That had nothing to do with me, ma’am. From what I could tell, it was your husband that protected your son. All I did was go into the house and call for an ambulance.”

“Still, thank you.”

Scott waved her off. “It was nothing ma’am. Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”

“There’s not much I can tell you that I haven’t already gone over with the Lawrence police department. My son was hit by a car and kidnapped in broad daylight. My husband went missing soon after but, as I’m sure you know, you can’t report an adult as missing right away. I didn’t even know at first because he works such crazy hours at the auto repair shop some days. And then, out of the blue, I get a call from some guy that was obviously disguising his voice and he tells me that my son and husband are being held at this address in New Mexico by some guy named Paul Brookes. And that is all I know.”

“Can I ask how you got here so quickly?”

“I drive fast.” The man in the trench coat replied, which made the small boy giggle.

Scott turned to the man. It was him. Not only was that strange feeling seemingly coming from him, but his voice was the same as the one that had called out for help from inside the house earlier. Yet he couldn’t have. Because this man hadn’t been inside when they had entered. “And you are…”

“Cas. I am Dean Winchester’s uncle.”

Okay, that was a lie. But for some reason, Scott let it go. “Well, thank you for answering my questions. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”

“I will.” Mrs. Winchester promised.

Scott Anderson was about to go sit down and start his incredibly long wait when a feeling crept up on him. He knew that the thing to do was to ignore it and go about his business. That his father, if the man were still alive, would tell him that he was being ridiculous. But in his gut he felt like that nine year old boy standing on the corner of the street staring at the spirit of a small child that had just saved his life. There was more to this world than what he could see. And some was good, and some was evil, and Scott was almost certain that he’d encounter both today. And something was telling him that he had to let the good know about the evil.

“One last thing, Mrs. Winchester.”

“Yes, officer?”

“As I was leaving the crime scene, I was approached by a man asking about your son. He asked about him by name and I didn’t get the feeling that he had the boy’s best interests in mind. I didn’t give him any information, in fact I told him there were no survivors, and asked for him to leave the crime scene. I just thought that you should be aware.”

The woman seemed both concerned and thoughtful. “Did he try to threaten you or anything?”

“Sort of.” Scott shrugged.

“Did anything seem out of the ordinary about him?” Cas asked. 

“Such as?”

“His eyes?”

“They were normal.” Scott replied, wondering what the man thought would be wrong with the guy’s eyes.

“Did he seem to appear or disappear out of nowhere?”

Scott paused, not wanting to seem crazy. But, they _had_ asked. “He _seemed_ to have.”

The two adults looked at each other. Then Mrs. Winchester asked another question. “Was he silent while doing this, or was it accompanied by a kind of a fluttering noise.”

Scott blinked in surprise. How the hell could they have known about that? “Uh… yeah, the second one.”

“Oh, crap.” The woman muttered. “Thank you so much for telling us, Officer Anderson.”

“Can I ask what’s going on, ma’am?”

“You can ask, officer. But I seriously doubt that you really want to know.”

Yeah, Scott seriously doubted that he wanted to know too.


	109. Waiting

Chapter One Hundred and Nine: Waiting 

If he had to sit still any longer, Sam thought that he was simply going to go nuts. All he’d done for days was wait and now that Dean and his dad had finally been found, he was forced to sit in a hard plastic chair and wait some more. Yay. Not only was he getting more worried and bored by the moment, but now his butt was getting sore. He had to get up. He had to move around.

“Mom, can I go to the cafeteria and get something to eat please?” Sam asked in his most polite, yet most pleading voice.

“Sorry Sam, but no. I can’t leave here in case there’s word on your father or brother, Cas is…” His mom looked over to where the policeman sat close by. “…elsewhere right now,” Yeah, he was watching over Dean and Dad invisibly in the operating rooms. “And I can’t let you go anywhere by yourself.”

Sam sighed. “Please Mom, I won’t be long.”

“If you’re hungry I can get you something from the vending machines over there.”

The boy made a face. “No thanks.”

“I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation ma’am, but if you’d like, I can take the boy down to the cafeteria for some real food.”

Sam turned to see the police officer facing their direction. The boy had overheard his parents talk of cops before and they didn’t seem to think much of them, but this guy seemed nice enough and smart enough to recognize the supernatural for what it was. Besides, Sam _really_ needed to stretch his legs and eat something besides chips, candy bars, and soda.

“Please, Mom.” The boy added.

His mom seemed to consider it. Sam knew that if the officer hadn’t given them the information he had earlier, the request would have been completely out of the question.

“Fine.” Then she pulled him into a hug and whispered into his ear. “If anything seems the least bit strange, you come right back here immediately, understand?”

“Yes, Mom.”

She handed him a ten dollar bill and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He kissed her back and then walked off, glancing back at her only once as he left the almost empty waiting room. Besides themselves and Officer Scott Anderson, there had only been a few people to come in; a guy with a cut on his head, a girl with a sprained ankle, and an old man with a cold. Maybe there had been more, but if so, Sam hadn’t noticed them in his worried state. Not really the safest way for a hunter-in-training (which is how Sam considered himself even though he’d never been out on a real case and didn’t really want to go on one, at least not for a very long time) to conduct himself, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, he knew that his mom would keep him safe. 

Except that they probably weren’t safe at all. Sam had heard the whole conversation that his mom and Cas had had with the policeman earlier and knew that it meant nothing but trouble. Something was around here and was looking for Dean. And that something had to be an angel. Which was weird. Because Sam understood that demons were bad. Hell, demons scared the crap out of him (and he’d never say that sentence out loud because when he used bad words both he and Dean got in trouble for it). Sam would never forget the night that he was introduced to the supernatural and he and Dean had almost been killed. Sure, he’d first seen vampires, but his big brother had been able to handle them (even if he _had_ gotten bitten) but the demons… now they were creepy. The black eyes, the pure evilness, the power they held, and the fact that Dean had needed Cas to show up to save them… Sam just was afraid of demons. Also, he just had this lurking feeling that he’d encountered them before in his life, maybe when he was much smaller, but couldn’t recall it. He’d read somewhere that people could be traumatized by stuff when they were babies and just never remember it so they’d never know why something bothered them. Maybe someday Sam would ask Dean if there was more to the whole thing with demons than Sam could remember. But for now, the young boy just knew that he had reasons for fearing demons, but angels… weren’t they supposed to be the good guys? Cas sure was. He was family. Yet the Winchesters had to learn how to hide from angels, how to banish them, fight them, kill them even. It was just plain weird. 

His mom and Cas hadn’t said anything about an angel being the one that had been looking for Dean (they couldn’t with Officer Anderson so close by) but they didn’t have to. Something that could appear out of nowhere and made a fluttering sound? Sam had lived with Cas his entire life. He knew an angel when he heard that description. And he knew from his family that if that angel wasn’t Cas, it probably meant bad news. Besides, the cop had seemed shaken and said that he’d sort of been threatened. So, Sam had just gotten his big brother back, still didn’t know what condition he was in, and now the older boy was in danger yet again. As he reached the cafeteria, Sam flopped down at the first table and buried his head in his arms. Tears rushed to his eyes.

Sam didn’t even try to stop crying until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the young policeman looking down at him rather compassionately.

“Hey, your brother seems like a strong kid. I’m certain he’ll pull through. You guys’ll be home and playing together before you know it.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t even know Dean! You’re just some guy that was called in to investigate that house and showed up after everything was all over. You don’t know anything.”

“Then tell me. What’s your brother like?” Officer Anderson asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Sam.

Sam shrugged. “He’s amazing. Dean’s not like anyone else in the whole world. Like, other kids say that their older brothers are mean and stuff but not Dean. I call him a jerk sometimes when we joke around ‘cause he likes to tease me, but he’s always protected me and he takes care of me and I feel really safe when he’s around. And Dean is really smart. And not just ‘cause he skipped two grades in school or ‘cause he can rebuild a car but because he can figure stuff out that no one else can and he knows people well too. And people like him. Well, good people like him. He pisses the bad people off.”

The cop laughed at that. “He sounds remarkable.”

“He is. And I don’t want anything else bad to happen to him.” Sam admitted.

“Do you and your family think that he’s in danger from the man that I spoke with?”

Sam considered carefully how to respond. He knew that hunters _did not_ talk to the police. But this guy hadn’t acted like a normal policeman when he’d shared that info with them earlier. Anyway, Sam wasn’t a real hunter.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “We may all be in danger.”

“From who?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.” He replied truthfully. “But I do know that we both know that that guy was bad news. And I doubt he’s just gonna give up.”

“Well, he won’t be able to get in to see your brother in this hospital, even if he does somehow manage to track him here.”

Sam made a face. “You’re talking about a guy that can appear and disappear anywhere he wants in the blink of an eye. What’s going to stop him?”

Officer Anderson looked like he was going to protest for a moment but then stopped. “How does he do it?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You believe that he can.”

The man ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s say for the moment that I do. So, if he can, how does he?”

“He’s not human.”

“Then what is he?”

“If I told you, you’d never believe me.”

The policeman laughed. “I’ve just accepted that I encountered someone who may or may not be human and can appear and disappear at will. And you’re worried about what I’m willing to believe?”

Sam smiled. “You know, you’re not like any police officer that I’ve ever heard of.”

“Well, you’re not like any kid that I’ve ever heard of. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“It’s… it’s something that possesses people, kinda like a demon can. But I’m told they can be even more devious and like to tell people that they’re the good guys when they really aren’t. Not all of them. And they…”

“Sam,” Officer Anderson interrupted. The boy figured that he was going to scold the boy for not getting to the point quick enough, but he didn’t just want to blurt out ‘angel’. Then Scott Anderson continued. “Get up and leave the table quickly. Exit the room and go back to your mom.”

“Officer Anderson?”

“The man I saw earlier… he’s here now.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary hoped that she hadn’t made a mistake by allowing Sam to leave with Officer Scott Anderson, but the guy seemed nice enough, trustworthy, and obviously had a feel for the supernatural whether he realized it or not. And Mary knew that her younger son would go stir crazy if she didn’t let him get up and move around a bit. Besides, with the policeman gone, she’d had the opportunity to call up Bobby and fill him in on the latest developments. But now she was left to go back to waiting and worrying.

The worst part was that at this moment she had no clue as to what condition her husband and son were in. She knew that she could’ve grilled the cop and found out what he knew, after all he’d actually gotten to see them (and how exactly was that fair?) but if it wasn’t good news, she didn’t want Sam to overhear it. Of course that was a bit ridiculous since if the worst happened to either one of them, the boy would certainly find out. No, not going there. Yet, even if she didn’t allow her brain to venture in that direction, she had to admit that it was likely that Sam would find out about the full extent of both John and Dean’s injuries. Still, the thought of him hearing the policeman relay what he’d witnessed at the crime scene made Mary feel ill. 

She leaned her head back and sighed. Personally, she wished that she could get up and go take a walk as well. Not that she’d get any food; she was far too worked up to eat. But Mary certainly had enough nervous energy to burn. And the more she thought about what Officer Scott Anderson had told her, the more worried she was becoming.

The last thing they needed was to add the angels into the mix. And was it just them? Or were the demons going to pop their ugly black-eyed heads into this as well? Either way, it was bad news. And John and Dean were very vulnerable at the moment. They were completely unprotected right now… well, except for Cas, but he was just one angel trying to watch over both of them. Once they were moved into rooms, Mary planned on trying her best to inconspicuously protect them, but she didn’t think that her drawing sigils in the O.R. during an ongoing surgery would go unnoticed. On the other hand, at least it would give her something to do.

Mary was just about to get up and start pacing when one of the the double doors leading back into the main portion of the hospital opened and a doctor walked out and headed right towards her. He looked grim and Mary hoped that it was just because of the nature of his work and not because he was here to deliver bad news. At this point, she didn’t even know which of her family members this man had been operating on. She rose to her feet in anticipation.

“Mrs. Winchester?”

“Yes?”

“You may want to sit back down.”


	110. Angels

Chapter One Hundred and Ten: Angels 

Mary ignored the doctor’s request for her to sit back down, just as she attempted to ignore the impulse to grab the man and shake the information she wanted out of him when he didn’t continue right away. Instead, she balled up her hands into fists and kept them at her sides as she spoke in a forced calm voice.

“How is he, doctor?” She asked, unsure of who she was even asking about.

“Mrs. Winchester, your husband was critically injured during his time in captivity. The most troubling injuries were the severe loss of blood, which we are in the process of replacing, a collapsed lung and some internal bleeding, which we repaired during extensive surgery, and massive head trauma. We sent him down for scans, but I’m afraid that we just won’t know the full extent of the damage caused until he wakes. If he wakes.”

“If?”

“It’s possible at this point that, for his body to recover, he’ll slip into a coma. That is the body’s best way of giving itself the opportunity to relax and heal properly and completely. Unfortunately, if that happens, there is a chance that he won’t reawaken. But at this point it is far too early to speculate. I will say that we lost him twice on the table in the operating room and he pulled through both times. Your husband is a fighter.”

“I know.” Was all Mary could force out.

“He also sustained multiple lacerations, contusions, and his leg was broken in several places. For now, we stabilized his leg and we’ll properly set it and apply the cast once he’s back from his scans.”

“When can I see him?”

“Once we are done with his scans and the cast, and are certain that he’s stable, your husband will be moved to a room in the ICU. At that time you’ll be allowed in to visit.”

“Thank you, doctor.” He nodded and was about to walk off when Mary called out to him. “Excuse me.” The doctor turned back around. “I know you’re not the one working on him, but do you know how my son is?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have that information. But I can tell you that there was no code red from that room while I was next door and that they were still working on him when I walked past.”

“Thanks again.” Mary smiled.

Once the man had left, her legs gave out from under her and she fell back into the chair. This wasn’t happening. None of this could be happening. Mary took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that desperately wanted to escape and for a moment wished that an evil angel or a demon would appear in front of her so that she could take out all her emotions and frustrations on it.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam didn’t even glance in the direction that Officer Anderson was looking when the man gave his warning; he just stood from his seat and started for the cafeteria door. But then he stopped dead as a quiet, yet still somehow audible fluttering sound came from right in front of him and a dark skinned man appeared, blocking his way. The boy stood there for a couple of seconds, wondering whose side this particular angel was on, when a look that could only be described as cold passed the man’s face as he glanced down at Sam. The child backed up quickly.

“Officer Anderson…”

“I’ve got you.” The policeman’s voice was strong and steady as a hand grasped Sam’s shoulder and pulled him up against the tall man’s body. 

“You again.” A voice sneered. Sam looked over to see a somewhat fat guy glaring at Officer Anderson. “You don’t want to get in our way.”

“I didn’t think I was in anyone’s way.” The policeman responded. “I was just taking a break in the cafeteria. You’re the ones that are making a big deal here.”

“We are here on business.” The dark skinned man informed them.

“And what business would that be?”

“To see Dean Winchester.”

“Who you claimed not to have seen.” The pudgy angel added. “I figured that you were lying.”

Sam pressed his small body closer to the cop at the threatening tone.

“What makes you think that I was lying?”

“You’re here with the brat’s little brother.”

“His family could be here to identify the body. We _did_ recover several of them.” Officer Anderson shot back in a reasonable voice.

“No. We would know if the child had passed on.” The angel blocking the door cut in. “He is alive.”

“How… how did you find us?” Sam asked.

“Oh, you mean ‘how did we see past your little cloaking trick’? Well, you and your family hid yourselves well from us and you know we can’t enter your residence. But to get you out alone on a hunt? It was as simple as looking for the right clues. Fathers and sons that were hunters; disappearing and their spirits turning up in heaven? We knew exactly where to look. Unfortunately, we figured out the correct address and arrived a bit too late and met with… this guy… instead of finding Dean.”

“You can’t have my brother!”

“They won’t.” Scott Anderson assured him.

Fat angel smiled. “And who will stop us? You? Do you even know who I am?”

“Just another perv looking to get his hands on a kid. Oh sure, you aren’t human, I got that memo, and you have some tricks up your sleeve, but you’re obviously scum and you are _not_ getting anywhere near any kid.”

The angel’s face grew dark. “I am Zachariah, an angel of God, and I demand your respect!”

The very air of the cafeteria grew thick and energized and Sam was glad that they were the only people currently in there. He hoped that no one else came down for some food and that the kitchen staff stayed put behind closed doors. 

Officer Anderson looked down at him. “Angels?”

“Uh…yeah. I was getting to that earlier. But they aren’t the good ones. Dean calls ‘em dicks with wings.”

The cop let out a bark of a laugh as he turned his attention back to Zachariah. “Well then, no respect for you, assholes. Now get out of here before I remove you myself.”

Sam could tell that the man was a bit nervous, but he was sure good at putting on a brave front. 

“Oh I would love to see you try.” Zachariah challenged.

Officer Anderson’s hand went towards his weapon and Sam shook his head.

“Uh, that won’t help. Bullets don’t kill angels. Won’t even slow ‘em.” Sam muttered. He was also afraid that the sound of the gun firing would bring his mom, not to mention a bunch of innocent people, running into a dangerous situation. Besides, according to the shows and movies his parents sometimes watched, it seemed that police officers got in trouble for firing their guns if they couldn’t prove that it was for a good reason and Sam doubted that Officer Anderson would be able to explain this situation to his boss without getting yelled at. And the guy had been so nice that Sam didn’t want to see him get in trouble or get fired over this. You know, if they lived through the next couple of minutes. Oh God, please let them live through this…

“I’ll do more than try.” Officer Anderson responded. “You keep threatening children and I’ll find a way to end you.”

“You know nothing of us and even if you did, no mere human could stand against us.” The dark skinned angel insisted.

“Then why are you all afraid of Dean?” Sam questioned. “You fear him and so do the demons. That’s why you want him so bad. So you can hurt him and get your answers and then he won’t be a threat anymore. You talk so big and bad but you’re all afraid of a twelve year old boy! And you know what? One day, I’ll find a way to fight you too and then you’ll be afraid of me too. I’ll make sure of it.” Sam narrowed his eyes, mad that they wanted to hurt his big brother that had already been injured so much.

“You won’t live that long if you don’t watch your mouth, boy. I’ll see to it myself, destiny or no destiny.” Zachariah stated, stalking forwards.

Officer Anderson shielded Sam behind himself and the boy ended up pressed against the table. 

“I… I don’t have a destiny. That’s Dean.”

“Oh, if only you knew, boy.”

“That’s enough, Zachariah.”

“Yes, Raphael.” Zachariah gave in reluctantly. 

“The only ones about to meet any kind of destiny are the two of you if you don’t back off and leave this boy and his family alone.” Officer Anderson warned. 

The portly angel gave a nasty smile and stepped forward, reaching a hand towards the cop. The man reacted by tensing and assuming a fight position but Sam knew that it wouldn’t be enough. The boy had never seen an angel kill anyone but he’d heard that the angels could kill a human just by touching them. They could burn them from the inside out. He didn’t want to see that happen to Scott Anderson. Hell, he didn’t want to see that happen at all. Ever. But Sam knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Just as it seemed inevitable that the policeman was going to die, the old television set that was fastened to the upper corner of the wall turned on and was filled with static. Both angels stopped in their tracks and cocked their heads to the sides. Then an ear piercing noise filled the room and Sam clamped both hands over his ears and let out a cry. 

“What? No.” Zachariah said, shaking his head and backing away from the policeman. “We are in the right here.”

The sound intensified and Sam winced in pain. 

“I’ll handle this.” Raphael walked up next to where Zachariah stood. “We need the boy. We are doing our best to get plans on track but without knowing… I understand that but… if He were… No, you cannot expect us to…”

All the windows on the far wall shattered. Officer Anderson pushed Sam down and under the table as the sound increased to the point where the boy’s hands were doing a poor job of protecting his ears. He started to sob and then he felt strong arms wrap around him and one of those arms helped to block out the noise. Sam briefly wondered how Scott would cover his own ears if he was protecting Sam, but for the moment he was just glad that the cop was there to help. He really didn’t want to end up deaf at eight years old. 

Sam could no longer hear if Zachariah or Raphael were talking but he supposed it didn’t matter much. He had no clue who they were speaking to or what they had been talking about. The boy tried to glance out to see if he could catch a glimpse of anything, but then a bright light started to fill the room. Sam shut his eyes tightly and buried his face in Officer Anderson’s chest. 

The table above them began to tremble and so did Sam. He hadn’t been this scared since his encounter with Gordon, the vampire, and the demons. And that time he’d had Dean to help him through part of it. This time he had to rely on a stranger and hope that the guy was as kind and good as he seemed to be. 

So, the terrified boy sat huddled under a table that provided very little protection and continued to press himself further into Officer Anderson, hoping beyond hope that they’d make it out alive.


	111. After the Storm

Chapter One Hundred and Eleven: After the Storm 

The first thing that tipped Mary off that something was very wrong was a feeling in the air around her. Up until then she’d been worried just because she’d gotten some not-so-encouraging news about John, no real news on Dean, knew that the angels were circling, and was separated from Sam. But now… now the very air had become thick and almost electrified and that seemed to becoming from somewhere down the hall. Where Sam had disappeared to not all that long ago. 

Mary got to her feet and was about to go and check on her son when suddenly a loud buzzing/ringing noise came from that same direction. Without hesitation, she took off in the direction of the commotion. But the hunter hadn’t made it far when the noise intensified and she was certain that she heard the sound of glass shattering. Mary kept running but as she drew nearer to the cafeteria, she had to clap her hands over her ears to try and block out the earsplitting racket. 

She turned the corner, wincing as the noise only got worse and worse, and saw a bright white light emanating from under the closed double doors. Even the tiniest bit that was escaping the room was enough to hurt her eyes and Mary was force to close them. That was the cafeteria, she was certain of it. And Sam, her youngest son, was in there. She needed to go in and save him, but how? She’d have to have her hands clamped over her ears and her eyes tightly shut just to enter. Mary wouldn’t even be able to locate Sam that way, let alone rescue him. And it wasn’t like she was armed to deal with any threats that she’d encounter. 

Just as she was about to say ‘the hell with it’ and risk possible blindness and/or deafness to run into the room and get to her son, the cacophony stopped. After half a second, Mary opened her eyes and saw that the light was gone as well. Without wasting anymore time, the hunter ran forward and pushed open the doors, bracing herself for a fight.

There was no fight to be had. The room was a mess; some of the tables and chairs were overturned, some of the floor tiles were scorched, anything in the room that had once had glass in it (a television set, lights, picture frames, all of the windows) was now shattered, and the air was still thick and uncomfortable. But the room was also deserted. Well, at least that was her first impression upon scanning the cafeteria. But upon taking a closer look, she realized that there was a man huddled under one on the tables not too far away from where she was standing. It was Officer Scott Anderson. Mary was about to stalk over to him and chew him out for hiding like a coward while angels had attacked and taken her son, when she saw that the man wasn’t cowering but was instead wrapped protectively around her little boy. 

“Sam!” She called, hoping that the officer’s body had been enough protection from whatever had happened in here.

“Mom?” Her son called back.

Anderson lifted his head and seemed to sweep the room. “Is it clear?” He called to her, obviously not able to see the entire cafeteria from his position.

“Yes.”

The policeman released his grip on the small boy and Sam scrambled out from underneath the table. Mary felt like collapsing to her knees in relief when she saw that her son seemed to be alright. He appeared to be scared, shaking a bit and pale, but otherwise unharmed. The little guy ran to her as she knelt down and threw himself into her arms. 

The relieved mother held him tightly, stroking his hair and fighting back tears of joy. Mary looked up to see Anderson unfolding himself from under their rather small hiding space. She suddenly realized that the man was a couple of inches taller than Castiel, and although he was rather wiry, that was probably not the most comfortable position for him to have been in. Mary also realized that the way that he’d been protecting her son hadn’t allowed him to protect his own ears. By all rights, Scott Anderson should’ve been completely deaf, yet she only noted a tiny, thin trickle of blood from his left ear and he _had_ reacted to her announcement that the room was clear. 

Mary was trying to figure out what to make of that when the man turned to face her and blinked his eyes a couple times as if to clear them. The hunter almost gasped as she saw that Anderson’s eyes were a bit dilated and he squinted them and rubbed his hands over his face. He’d looked at whatever had been in the cafeteria with them a few minutes ago. Mary knew that without even asking. The officer should be blind; hell, his eyes should’ve burned right out of his sockets. But as he walked straight towards her, looking like a man that had just survived a terrorist attack, yet still somehow intact, it was obvious that there was something very special about Scott Anderson. 

Oh sure, Mary had know that he was smart and had really great instincts. He’d proven that when he’d given her the information just after they’d met and it was the only reason she’d let Sam go to the cafeteria with him in the first place. But now, as she thought about it, she should’ve realized that there was something more. He’d known something was up with the angel he’d encountered while most would’ve just brushed it off. Then, he’d obviously sensed something about Castiel, if the looks he kept sending in the angel’s direction were any indication. Also, he’d had an idea that he could pass the information about his encounter on to Mary, something most policemen would never do. And now this. 

When Anderson got close, Mary stood, picking up Sam and holding him in her arms. Eight years old was a bit too old to be being carried around, but there was no way that she was letting him go right now. “What the hell happened in here, Officer Anderson?”

“Angels.” Was his one word, and slightly in-shock, response.

But Mary didn’t have time to take it easy on him, even knowing that this was his first encounter with anything supernatural and his mind was probably trying to process what had happened. “Yeah, I figured that much out. But what did you hear? What did you see?”

Anderson opened his mouth to respond when the doors to the room opened once again and two security officers rushed in.

“Hey Scott, how the hell did you get down here so fast?” An older man asked.

“You know what happened down here?” A middle-aged over-weight woman asked.

“Yeah. I was down here when it happened.” Anderson replied. “Some freaky electric thing. Blew out the television set, the lights, everything. I felt it building up in the air and got the kid here under the table before it blew out the windows. There were a couple other guys in the room too but they took off when it all went down. I told them to take cover but they didn’t listen, so I hope they didn’t get hurt on the glass. Anyways, I don’t know if it was internal electrical issues or weird weather crap but that’s for the experts to figure out, not me.” 

Mary tried not to smile. The guy was certainly good at spinning a convincing story. He’d covered all his bases if the kitchen staff had seen him and Sam there beforehand. And she was assuming the ‘other guys’ were angels that were there in hosts. She just hoped that the security personnel bought it.

“Electricity did this?” The lady asked. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“It’s true.” A man confirmed, coming out from a heavy looking door against the far wall. Mary assumed that the room beyond was the kitchen. “I mean, I didn’t see anything that happened out here. I glanced out right after Scott came in with the kid, but when the whole crazy thing went down, me and Trish were in the back. We felt the electricity building up in the air and some of our equipment went screwy and the coffee pot just exploded. As did all our glasses. I sent Trish upstairs to go get some stitches for her hand. And that ringing sound. Damn, but I thought we’d both be deaf before it ended. It was just nuts.”

The older security guard looked between them. “Well then, no offence Scott, but I’m glad it was you down here and not me. I already got myself a hearing aid. No need to make my problems worse.”

Anderson smiled. “Aw, c’mon Ralph, you and I both know that you only wear that thing so you can have an excuse to ignore your wife.”

“And it works.” The old man winked.

“For now. But one day that woman is going to catch on and I’ll be called to your house to investigate your death.”

They both laughed, but Mary could tell that Anderson’s was a bit strained. He was still in shock and struggling to put on this show of ‘yeah, sure, everything’s alright’. 

“Excuse me, but can I take my son out of here now?” Mary inquired.

“Sure.” The female security guard nodded. “Will you be around if we have any further questions? If not I’ll need contact information.”

“My husband and son are here and will be for quite some time, so yes; we’ll be around.”

“Okay then.”

“I’ll escort them out and make certain they’re alright.” Anderson offered.

Without waiting for a response, he put one of his hands on the small of her back and gently ‘led’ her from the room. The three of them, her still carrying Sam, made their way down the hall and back to the waiting area. But when she went to go back over to the hard plastic chairs, Anderson held her arm.

“Hold up a moment.” Then he turned his attention to the woman behind the receptionist desk. “Hey, Beth.”

“Oh, Scott! Your ear… it’s bleeding! Do you need to go up and see a doctor?”

He reached up and touched the blood. “This? No, it’s nothing. I’m fine. But the Winchesters here have been through a lot and I was wondering if I could bring them upstairs to the private waiting room?” When Beth hesitated a moment, Anderson flashed her a charming smile. “They could really use it and I need to talk with them in private. Police stuff, you know. Do me this one favor, please?”

Betty bit her lip but smiled back. “Alright, Scott. It’s yours for now. I’ll make a note in the system.”

“Thank you so much. I owe you.”

“Not a problem. But you really should get yourself checked out. Your ear might be hurt. And your eyes look a bit funny too.”

“I’m fine, I swear. I’ll see you later.” With one last smile, he turned and gestured to Mary to follow him over to the elevators. 

Once inside the small metal transport, Anderson pushed the button marked ‘1’ and the cab rose. A ‘ding’ announced their arrival and the door opened. Mary followed the officer down a hall, passed the entrance to the ICU, and to a door marked ‘PRIVATE’. Anderson grasped the doorknob, turned it, and swung the door open. Mary walked in after him and watched as he went to an overstuffed chair and collapsed into it. 

She made her way over to a comfortable looking couch and placed Sam down on it. 

“You okay, sweetie?” She asked, hoping that now that he’d had some time to calm down that he’d be feeling alright and be ready to talk. She hadn’t pressed him earlier because she was afraid it’d be too much for him just after a traumatic event.

The boy nodded. “Yeah. It was scary, but Officer Anderson protected me from the angels. I didn’t get hurt at all, Mom. Well, my ears are ringing, but not too bad.”

“Good. That’s good.” Mary ran her hand over her son’s cheek and kissed his forehead. Then she turned to face the policeman. “And you; are you sure that you’re alright?”

Anderson was slumped down in the chair with one now-shaking hand over his face and the man allowed it to slowly slip down into his lap. Mary briefly wondered if he was going to end up down in the psych ward before this day was over. She really didn’t think that she’d blame him if he did. 

“Yeah… yeah, I’m alright.”

“Your hearing? Your vision?”

“A little ringing right after the fact but now I’m fine. As for my eyes, everything seems a bit hazy but it’s getting better.”

“Okay then.”

“But that’s not what you really want to know.” When Mary opened her mouth to protest, Anderson held up his hand. “I’m not saying that you’re not concerned about my well-being or anything, but back in the cafeteria you were asking me about what happened. I doubt that you’ve suddenly stopped wondering.”

“You’re right.” Mary admitted. “So, are you okay enough to go over the details?”

The policeman let out a laugh. “You know, that’s usually what the cop asks the victims, not what the victims’ family asks the cop.”

“I think we can both agree that this is a unique situation.”

“That it is.” He nodded. “So, we got to the cafeteria and we were just talking when I saw the guy… well, now I know that he’s an angel… from back at the kidnapper’s house suddenly appear in the room. I knew that Sam wouldn’t see him from that angle, so I warned him and told him to leave and go back to you. But then Sam got my attention and I saw another man was blocking the door. They acted in a threatening manner and again asked about Dean. When I challenged them, they revealed that they were angels. They gave their names as Zachariah and Raphael.”

Mary nodded in recognition. “Zachariah’s the same angel that threatened Dean at school once.”

“Well, he seems to be big on the whole threatening thing. He was spewing them left and right as he approached us. I tried my best to shield Sam, and Zachariah was reaching for me when suddenly another voice rang out. It seemed to come from no where and was much louder than Zachariah’s or Raphael’s.”

“There was no voice.” Sam protested. “Just a loud ringing noise like the guy in the cafeteria said. Right when the tv set turned itself on and the angels started speaking to no one.”

Anderson looked confused. “I don’t know why no one else heard it, but there was another voice. I’m sure of it.”

“I believe you.” Mary confirmed. “I think it was an angel. The ones you saw were in host bodies… uh, that means that they were possessing people. But angels can only possess people who are willing. But what you heard was the voice of an angel that was in its true form. Most humans can’t perceive it but supposedly a very few can.” She looked pointedly at Anderson and the man seemed to be thinking this over. Before he could question her or possibly go insane from everything that had just been dumped on him in such a short amount of time, Mary asked him another question. “Do you know which angel was speaking? Did it give a name?”

“Yes. Michael.”


	112. Nothing Makes Sense

Chapter One Hundred and Twelve: Nothing Makes Sense 

Dean was in Hell. And Hell was as confusing as all… well, as all Hell. And that thought was kind of confusing. Which actually made a strange sort of sense, since nothing made sense anymore.

One minute he was suspended over an endless pit, meat hooks digging into his flesh at several places in his body, causing unbelievable amounts of pain. Dean felt his skin and muscles tearing and an unimaginable heat radiating from somewhere below and he closed his eyes and thought about screaming for help once again. Or perhaps just calling out in agony. But his throat was raw and sore from yelling and he just couldn’t do it anymore. This was it… he’d sold his soul and he was in Hell and this was just how things were going to be forever and… No. No, he’d been here before. Then, he’d been tortured in other ways, and then… other stuff that he really didn’t want to think about had happened before Cas had saved him. Cas had saved him. He shouldn’t be here. This was a nightmare; a memory… nothing more.

Then he was a small boy but not really because he still remembered being an adult and he was being beaten by some asshole that had it out for hunters and… and… then he was stabbed. The pain was terrible. Was he still in Hell? It was terribly confusing. No it couldn’t be Hell because his dad was there and he was quite certain that his dad had been freed from Hell long before Dean himself had been damned there. But the pain…

The next thing he knew he was an adult again and he was strapped down to a table and Alastair was standing… no, looming… over him with a dull scalpel that had already been used to remove more than half the skin from Dean’s body. The man tried to hold in his screams and tried harder to ignore the words that the demon was forcing into his consciousness. It wasn’t like it was anything new; it was stuff he had thought himself and knew to be true. That this was what he deserved for letting his family down. That his family was glad that he was here. That _Sam_ was glad that he was here. But to hear this hateful piece of demonic crap spewing out those words was just too much. Dean wanted to somehow get away from… he had. He had gotten away. Cas had rescued him. He wasn’t in Hell anymore.

But he was in… in Hell. It had to be Hell because he was in so much pain that there was just no way that this could be anything other than Hell. Dean tried to drag himself across the cold concrete floor to reach his brother’s side. He wasn’t sure he was going to make it, though. Not that it mattered too much. Sam was dead, had been for quite a few minutes already, and Dean was well on his way to joining him… So, not in Hell then. Not if he was dying. But if he had to die like this, he at least wanted to see his brother one last time. Was that really too much to ask? Apparently it was, because there was just no way that Dean was going to make it. His back had been broken when one of the demons had hurled him into the cement post, so he couldn’t move his legs at all. And that was after another demon had mangled his left arm beyond repair. Dean would’ve passed out long ago if it wasn’t for the strange spell that had been set over this demon torture facility that they were in that made it impossible for a person to lose consciousness until they were dead. Still, Dean used his right arm to drag himself another few inches closer to Sam. The gravely injured hunter had to stop moving when he felt a terrible pain in his chest. He let out a low moan which turned into a coughing fit. When he finally got his breathing back under control, there was a large amount of blood in a puddle by his hand. Dean spit out one last mouthful of the metallic tasting stuff and then tried to crawl forwards, not even caring that he was dragging his damaged body through the blood that he’d just coughed up. He was only a few more meters away. Maybe he could make it there after all. But then a pair of nice looking dress shoes appeared in front of him. Dean looked up to see a balding forty-something year old businessman with black eyes looming over him. Wait… No, this wasn’t right either. Cas had taken him away from this moment. Had taken him back in time to when he was four. Dean had saved his mom, had changed everything. Hell, this moment would never exist now except for in his own dark memories.

Then Dean was in Hell being tortured once again, then he was at a birthday party having his arm broken and being thrown from a window, then he was back in Hell being tortured, then he was in his back yard being strangled by a swing set chain, then he was back in Hell being tortured, then he was tied to a chair being beaten by his father… no a shapeshifter, then he was back in Hell being tortured, then he was trying to keep Sam safe from that damned vampire even as the thing bit down on his flesh, then he was back in Hell being tortured, then he was… he was… WHAT THE HELL WAS REAL?

“Cas!” Dean closed his eyes tightly to block out everything around him and called out to his friend. “Cas! Please, I need you!” There was no response and he began to feel desperate. “Cas!”

_Dean._

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly for his friend. What he saw was a confusing compilation of memories; Hell combined with home but it was what he didn’t see that made him feel scared. Cas wasn’t there.

“Cas, where are you?”

_I am close by, Dean._

“I need you here, buddy. I think I’m going nutso. I… I can’t control the memories. The dreams are just… they’re… I can’t… I need your help, Cas.”

_I’m sorry, Dean, but I can’t come into your dreams with you right now._

“What? Why not?” Dean looked down at himself and realized that not only was his surroundings a mixed up mess, but he himself was flickering between ages. One moment he was in his early thirties and the next he was four and a half, then he’d jump to twelve. “I think I’m losing my grip on reality, dude.”

_I can sense your confusion and the horror that you’re experiencing Dean, and I want to help you, but I cannot abandon my post out here. I am charged with guarding you and your father while you undergo surgery. Once you are both safely protected in your rooms, I will be free to join you in your subconscious._

Dean tried to fight past all the terror and disorientation that was trying to paralyze him to focus on what his friend was telling him. “Guarding us? Is it just a precaution or are we in danger?” As he forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand, his surroundings settled on a room with wooden floorboards and Dean stayed as his twelve year old self. This was the closest to the truth and it helped him remember what had happened. “It was just some guy, Cas. A human. Deranged, but not supernatural. He can’t get to us in a hospital. Especially not since I think that Dad killed him.”

_Your father did kill him. But it isn’t him that we are worried about. A policeman informed your mother that an angel was near that house, looking for you. And I just sensed them here, in the hospital._

Dean’s eyes widened. “Angels are here? Which ones? Where are they? What do they want? What are they doing?”

_I cannot tell. I am using my energy to hide you and your father since I took the sigils from your ribs so that the doctors could x-ray you without raising questions. Besides, if I try to reach out to them, they will sense me and could discover who and what I am._

“Yeah, okay. But let me know as soon as you know anything, okay?”

_I will._

“Okay… I, guess I’ll let you get back to it then since chatting with me is probably distracting you a bit and that’s not a good thing when we’re under attack by the flying monkeys. See you later.”

When there was no response, Dean knew that Cas had turned his full attention back to guard duty and panic began to seize him once more. No. No, he couldn’t let that happen. He was Dean freakin’ Winchester and he DID NOT panic. Well, okay, maybe he did, but he wasn’t going to if he could help it. And he was certain that he could. He just had to take control of this dream. And that meant trying to control his own mind without Cas to push back the nasty crap that liked to sneak up on him.

Dean took a deep breath. First thing first. He closed his eyes and squeezed his hands into fists and imagined himself as an adult. Because adult Dean had better control over his emotions than kid Dean. He opened his eyes to find that it had worked. Awesome. Then he started on the room. There was no way that he wanted to hang out in the place where he and his dad had been tortured and almost killed. Dean stared hard at the hateful room until it flickered and rearranged itself into his childhood bedroom. Not really what he’d been going for but it was better than where he’d been and he was far too mentally tired to try again. 

Dean sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. It hurt. It hurt to breath. His freakin’ ribs were killing him. But not as bad as the pain that suddenly flared through his left arm. Dean looked down and saw that the limb in question was broken and twisted and he immediately cradled it to his chest. He looked around himself, expecting to see Hell encroaching in on him once again, but all he saw was his bedroom looking the way it had when he’d first arrived back in 1983. But then why…

“His vitals are…”

What was that? A voice. But one Dean didn’t recognize.

“We have to get his heart rate back down or he could…”

There it was again. Dean tried to concentrate on the voice. But the pain started to overwhelm him. He had to get away from it.

“I can’t work on his arm if he’s thrashing about.”

There it was again. Maybe if he could find the person who was talking…

“He’s waking up. Holy crap, the kid’s actually waking up!”

“I can see that. Now do your job and give him another injection so I can do mine and finish fixing him up.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Dean didn’t even realize that his eyes were closed until he opened them and saw strangers all around him. They wore surgical scrubs and masks and there was a bright light over him and… and… 

A warm sensation filled his body and Dean realized that they had given him something to put him back under. He fought it for a moment, not wanting to be pulled back into that crazy kaleidoscope of memories that was his subconscious. But when he realized that it was inevitable, Dean released his hold on the real world and simply prayed that the drug allowed him a dreamless sleep.


	113. Angel Experts

Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen: Angel Experts 

“Michael?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, that was what he said.”

Mary’s face had gone pale. “Are you certain? The angel… the one without a host… it was Michael?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t something he’d forget. It wasn’t like Scott was some religious nut or anything. His mom had been raised Catholic but had drifted away due to her job at this very hospital that had required her to work crazy hours that had included most Sundays. So, young Scott Anderson only had had a passing interest in religion and had joined up with a local non-denominational church when he’d grown up (they didn’t look down their noses quite so much at you when you didn’t show up every week like the small Catholic church here in town did) but he too had a career that left few Sundays free. Still, he recognized the name Michael and knew that the correct title was archangel, not merely angel. So no, not something he was going to forget anytime soon.

“What did he want? Was he looking for Dean?”

“No.” Scott shook his head. “Like I said, the other two were, but Michael, he just told them off.”

“What?”

“Well, at first he sounded kind of reasonable, like he was just having a conversation, although his tone was a bit like… like an older sibling scolding a younger kid that had gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He asked what they thought they were doing and if they thought they could get away with defying his orders. Zachariah objected and Michael raised his voice but it wasn’t so much like he was yelling; more like his voice was just amplified. He told him that he’d already been spoken to about his methods. So Raphael tried to explain that they were trying to get their hands on Dean to get their plans back on track. Michael told him that he was told not to touch Dean. The more Raphael tried to protest, the angrier Michael got. He said that _he_ was in charge for the moment and that he would not be questioned. And that’s when the windows shattered. I missed a bit of the exchange while I was concentrating on getting Sam under the table and trying to make certain that he was safe, especially since I realized that the ringing in my ears that I was experiencing from Michael’s voice was hurting the boy and I wanted to make certain that his hearing wasn’t damaged, but I got that they were still going on about the best way to get the information they needed. Apparently, Zachariah and Raphael both want your son because they think that he can help them with some plan they’re working on. Well, they claim to be working on it but I get the sense that they’re exaggerating a bit. They seem to be making stuff up as they go along if you ask me. Michael on the other hand seems almost apathetic about their plan and does not want them anywhere near Dean. As a matter of fact, he said that he _had_ given them permission to observe your family but was now revoking that as well. And when Raphael challenged him on that, kind of a more sophisticated ‘I’d like to see you make me’, Michael took him up on it. Because that was when the room started to brighten. I hid Sam’s face but I found that I couldn’t look away. At first there was just light, but then there was a figure and it was… I don’t know. It was like I was looking at him but I just couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing exactly. And he wasn’t completely there, either. I really believe that if Michael had been there fully, no one would’ve survived. Zachariah fled but Raphael still challenged him. The light got brighter, and my eyes started to hurt, and suddenly it was like Michael realized I was there and he turned his attention to me.” Scott paused, remembering how terrified he’d been, sure that the archangel would end him for some reason. “He advised me not to look at him unless I wished to go blind.”

“He must’ve realized that you could perceive him.” Mary provided.

“The angels don’t know these sorts of things?”

She shook her head. “Apparently not. Which is probably why they spoke so openly in front of you. So what happened next?”

“I shut my eyes.” He shrugged. “I kind of value my eyes. Everything seemed to intensify for a moment and I heard Raphael scream something like ‘you can’t take me away from here, I still have a job to do, you can’t do this’ and then it was all over. I opened my eyes, which were still a bit sore and blurry from the bright light, and saw that it seemed like everyone was gone but Sam and me. And that’s when you came in.”

Mary seemed to think it over. “And you’re certain that that’s what happened?”

“One hundred percent.”

“But that makes no sense.” She protested.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” He buried his face in his hands, thinking back to how much more sense his life had made when he’d woken up that morning. Maybe he should’ve just called in sick and stayed in bed all day. No creepy house, no strange family, and no angels. But on the other hand, he’d been able to provide some assistance today that maybe another officer wouldn’t have, so he knew that he couldn’t really regret this crazy day. “None of this has made a bit of sense.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant. I just meant that as far as I knew, Michael would be the first in line to get his hands on my son.”

“What do you mean? What do you know about all of this?”

Mary paused for a moment before answering. “Nothing that you need to know about. It’s family stuff.”

Scott dropped his hands and sat up straight. “Family stuff? Seriously? I just risked my ass to help your family and you are going to pull this crap?”

Mary’s jaw clenched and she stood up. “I’m the one trying to help my family and I don’t have time to explain our life stories to you, Anderson. If you have a problem with that, too bad.”

“I get that you all have your secrets and you’re feeling really protective of your family right now.” Scott tried to keep calm, knowing that a yelling match was not what was needed here. “But I just protected your son from pissed off angels and then eavesdropped on their secret talks. Afterwards I turned around and relayed that information to their enemies. I didn’t have to do any of that. Hell, I didn’t have to tip you off to them in the first place.”

“What do you want? A medal?”

“Mom…” Sam tried to interrupt.

“No, I don’t even care if _you_ care about what I’ve done. But I figure that I’ve probably pissed off some pretty powerful creatures now and any information that you could give me would be welcome. You know, so I’ll be a little bit prepared if I go home to find them in my bedroom ready to strike me down.”

A small smile made its way to her face. “Well, if that happens, no information that I can give you will stop them from burning you from the inside out, but you do have a point.” Mary sat back down next to her son. “You’ve gotten yourself in pretty deep, especially if Raphael or Zachariah even suspect that you can hear and see their true forms. But still, there are some things that I cannot tell you for your own safety. Alright?”

Scott nodded. “Alright. And I’m sorry if I came off as a jerk, I just…”

“No need to apologize. You were right.” She smiled again. “Besides, I think that Dean would approve of you. Anyways, as for what you were asking about, we don’t know too much about the angels’ plans. We do know that they originally had planned to jump start the apocalypse so that they could have their paradise on earth early.”

“Wait, angels want to end the world?” 

“Yeah, and they claim to be the good guys. Really makes you not want to meet the bad guys, huh? Anyway, that plan was disrupted.”

“They blame your son.”

“You picked up on that?”

“How could a twelve year old do that?”

“Actually he was much younger when all that took place.” Mary responded.

Scott looked for the telltale smile but it didn’t come. “You’re serious?”

“Completely. We have an interesting family. The point is that they’ve been after Dean to try and find out how he did it and other information to try and perfect a new plan. But Michael has a special interest in Dean.”

“What?”

“I can’t say. It’s not my story to tell. But it just doesn’t add up that he’d be protecting Dean. It doesn’t make sense that there’d be fighting within the ranks of the angels at all.”

“Well, you said yourself that you don’t know much about them. Michael seemed… disgusted by the others.”

Mary looked at him skeptically. “You meet angels once and suddenly you’re an expert?”

“Hey, I never claimed to be an expert, I’m just telling you the feelings I got off of them. And the feelings seemed to pour out of them. Zachariah is cruel. No doubt about it. If Sam hadn’t confirmed to me that he was an angel, my guess would’ve been demon or something like that. Hell, before today I would’ve labeled him as a serial killer or some similar sort of scumbag. As for Raphael, he wasn’t as bad. Like, I didn’t get the sense that he would take any joy out of hurting your sons, but he certainly wouldn’t hesitate to do it. He was cold. Best I could describe would be a guy that didn’t care who he hurt so long as he got what he wanted. And Michael was angry at both of them. And a little ashamed too, I think, at their actions and intentions. He also came off as almost protective of your family.”

“That still doesn’t sound right.”

Scott shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I know.”

“It’s just that no angel has ever tried to protect our family except…” She stopped herself short.

Scott thought over the last few hours and the last piece (well, it was probably far from the _last_ piece, but whatever) fell into place. “Except Cas. Or whatever his real name is.”

The woman didn’t even try to deny it. “That’s his real name. Or at least the shortened version Dean gave him. And yes, you’re right. So, Officer Angel Expert, what do you get off of him?”

Scott rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. “He’s very protective of Dean. Definitely one of the good guys. And he was in that house somehow. And I’d bet a year’s salary that he didn’t drive you here in a car.”

Mary laughed. “Yeah, I knew it was a bit of a risk to get here so quickly but I had to see John and Dean as soon as possible. And I was hoping that it would take longer for anyone to notice that we were here.” She sighed. “Besides, John took our car and then disappeared, so I was without another means of transportation.”

Scott Anderson smiled. “Well, you had an option that most people don’t. But if you want to find your car, I might be able to help. It might be in the area so if you can give me the information, I can call it in and have an APB put out on it.”

“Uh… thank you, but probably not the best idea. Our trunk is filled with weapons used to hunt down supernatural creatures and I think it might raise some questions if the cops find it.”

“Oh… yeah. Well, then I guess I’ll leave it up to you guys to find it.” He took in what she’d just said and sighed. “So… supernatural creatures? As in… more than just angels and demons?” Then remembering his own childhood experience he added “And ghosts.”

“Much more.” Sam nodded. “Like vampires and stuff. I saw one once.”

“But you probably don’t need that list right now.” Mary added. “Not if you want to keep your sanity intact.”

“Too late for that.” Scott muttered.

“You seem to be doing okay so far, Anderson.” Mary allowed. “And did I hear you mention ghosts? Something you want to share?”

He shook his head. “Nah, just something from when I was a kid. Not related to this at all.”

“Not necessarily. If you are special, you might find that you attract supernatural things.”

The policeman raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were trying to preserve what was left of my sanity?”

“Sorry.” 

They were interrupted from any further conversation by a knock on the door. It opened to reveal a doctor in surgical scrubs.

“Mrs. Winchester?”

“Yes?”

“Hello. I’m Dr. Graham. I’m the surgeon that was assigned your son’s case.”

“How is he?” She asked nervously.

“He pulled through surgery and is stable. I’ll be pleased to give you all the answers you want, but I’m sure you’re anxious to see him. We just moved him to a room in the ICU down the hall, so if you wish, we can continue this discussion at his bedside.”

“That would be perfect. Thank you, doctor.” She stood and took Sam’s hand. “Come on, honey, we’re going to go see your big brother.”

The little boy was grinning ear to ear and practically ran for the door. He did spare a quick wave on his way out. “Bye Officer Anderson. See you later.”

“See you, kid.”

Mary nodded to him. “Thanks for everything and I’ll talk more with you later.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll also let you know as soon as Dean is well enough to give a statement. I’m sure he’ll want to meet you.”

“Don’t rush him.” Scott advised. “I’ll see you guys later. Take care of each other.”

Then the door closed behind them and the strange little family was gone. Scott slumped back into the chair and closed his eyes. He was exhausted after the events of the day but wasn’t sure he really wanted to sleep. Hell, after everything he’d experienced and learned he wasn’t sure that he wanted to let his guard down to sleep ever again.


	114. Please Get Better

Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen: Please Get Better 

Upon entering the small hospital room and seeing his big brother lying so still in the bed, hooked up to a bunch of machines, covered in bandages, and looking so pale; Sam burst into tears and pulled away from his mom. He ran to Dean and scrambled up onto the narrow mattress. The little boy didn’t want to hurt his obviously very injured brother any further, so he was extremely gentle when he hugged the older boy, but he did hold on tightly and he never wanted to let go again. Sam gently kissed Dean’s forehead as his tears landed in his brother’s spiky dark blonde hair.

“Please get better, Dean. Please. I’m sorry you got hurt and we’ll do better at taking care of you from now on if you just get better and please don’t die.” Sam was terrified because Dean never ended up in a hospital bed like this. They were always able to patch him up at home or at Uncle Bobby’s. But seeing him here like this…

“You’re brother is going to be alright.”

Sam turned his head to see the doctor standing nearby, looking down at him. He instantly started to sit up. “Oh sorry. I… I uh, am I hurting him? I can get down if...”

“No, you’re not hurting him. And you seem like a really great brother, so I think Dean would want you to stay. Is your name Sam?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Your brother was asking about you.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “He was?”

“He was awake?” His mom asked.

“Dean woke up twice.” The doctor informed them. “The first time was during surgery and we gave him a sedative to put him back out, but it wasn’t a strong one since we didn’t want to risk him going under too deep due to his head injury. Then he woke briefly while we transferred him to this room. He wasn’t too coherent but he asked about Sam at one point.”

“About his condition…” Sam’s mom prompted.

“As I said, he’s stable. He sustained a head injury that required thirteen stitches to close and resulted in a concussion. Scans don’t show any signs of permanent damage to his brain, however, and the fact that he’s waking up already is a good sign. There was a stab wound to his ribs that we stitched up that resulted in a massive loss of blood. We’re replacing the fluids and giving him a round of anti-biotics. Two of his ribs were broken and another two were fractured on his left side. There’s a small hairline fracture on his spine but the position and severity aren’t cause for concern and it should heal rather quickly with no real damage. There was minor internal bleeding that we fixed during surgery. Dean’s left arm required the most work. It was broken in several places, with pieces of the bone actually splintered off from the rest. We had to remove some of the bone fragments and then stabilize the bone and hold it in place with metal plates, pins and screws. I couldn’t help but notice that he’s had a similar, though much smaller, procedure done before?”

Sam looked to his mom as she sighed. “Yes, when he was four and a half years old he was at a birthday party and one of the older boys was bullying him and pushed him out the window.” Sam knew that there was far more to the story than that. Was Dean hunting even back then? Or had something come for him? 

The doctor shook his head. “That’s terrible. Dean’s been through a lot in his young life.”

“Yes he has.” 

“Well, we removed what was there from that surgery and put his bone back together. As you can see, his arm is in a plaster cast to keep it stable, and he’ll have to keep it in that for six to eight weeks. After that he’ll probably need a brace for his wrist and forearm for another few weeks since that was the area that sustained the worst damage. He’s young and obviously active, so with physical therapy he should recover most if not all range of motion in his arm.”

Sam found himself staring at the bright green cast on his brother’s arm that started above his elbow and went all the way down to his hand like some bizarre bicycle glove. He couldn’t believe that it hid such awful damage. Once more, tears rushed to his eyes.

“Thank you doctor.” He heard his mom say.

“If you need anything or have anymore questions, just press the call button right here and a nurse will be in momentarily.”

Sam turned his attention away from the doctor as the man exited the room. He’d heard all he needed to. The bad guy had hurt his brother really bad, but Dean would be okay. Of course he would. He was Dean. If vampires and demons and stuff like that couldn’t kill Dean, then that stupid man that had taken him certainly couldn’t have. But still… Sam snuggled into his big brother and clutched his good hand. After a few minutes he became aware of his mom moving around the room.

“What’cha doing?” He asked.

“I’m drawing sigils to protect us from angels and demons behind all of these painting and anywhere else that the staff won’t see them.”

Sam nodded without turning his head to look. He thought about what the cleaning crew would think some day when they finally decided to switch out the ugly artwork and he almost giggled. That would be funny. Well, as long as it happened long after they had left and were back home safely. 

“Mom… do you think the angels are gonna leave us alone now?”

There was a pause before his mom responded. “You heard what Officer Anderson said. They were told to stay away from us.”

“Yeah, and I also heard what _you_ said. You said that Michael was no better than the others and that he was probably after Dean too. Why would he be after Dean too, Mom?”

“We don’t know anything at this point, Sam.”

“You just don’t wanna tell me.”

“You don’t need to be worrying about the angels right now, sweetie.”

Sam sighed. “None of us should be. When I had to tell Officer Anderson that the angels were the bad guys it just… it’s not right, Mom. They shouldn’t be after us. We’re good people. _Dean’s_ a good person. They should help him. They shouldn’t have come here to take him and hurt him after he’s already been tortured. Look at him, Mom! The angels should be in here healing him, not plotting to use him to end the world. It’s just wrong!” 

“I know, Sam. I know. You’re right.”

“Maybe… maybe Officer Anderson’s right and Michael can help us.” Sam suggested hopefully after a moment. “I mean, Cas is nice and he’s an angel. There has to be other nice ones out there. They can’t _all_ be dicks with wings, right?”

“Sam!” His mom scolded. “Watch the language. I don’t care if you hear Dean say it, I don’t want you repeating that.”

Sam rolled his eyes, just like his big brother always did. “Fine, but about what I said…”

“We can’t trust any other angels right now, sweetie. Okay?”

He didn’t like it. There were just so many bad things out there. It would’ve been nice to think that there were some more good guys too.

“Okay.”

Sam snuggled back into Dean and was thinking about maybe taking a nap (sure naps were for babies, but he was really exhausted after everything that had happened) when he felt his brother move just a tiny bit. 

“Dean?”

“S’mmy?”

“Dean!”

Sam grinned as he saw the older boy’s eyelids start to flutter. He propped himself up so that he was directly over Dean’s face. He was aware of his mom coming over to stand next to the bed, but his full attention was focused on the broken body lying next to him.

“Sammy?” This time, Dean’s voice was clearer, if still weak sounding. His eyes finally opened completely and focused lazily on Sam.

“I’m right here Dean.” Sam assured him.

Dean blinked and tried to look around but winced as he moved his head. “Uh… ow. What… what happened?”

“You got hurt. But you’re safe now and you’re gonna be alright.”

“You ‘kay, Sammy?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Sam smiled, pleased that his brother cared enough to always ask about him.

Dean closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to think. “I don’t ‘member… was I in Hell?”

Sam gave him a strange look. “No. Why would you be in Hell? Only bad people go there. And you’re the best good person there is.”

Their mom cut in before Dean could respond. “You were probably having a nightmare, honey.”

Sam knew that Dean had nightmare. Bad ones. They got so bad that Cas had to help him through them, but that made sense because Sam hadn’t seen much supernatural stuff and he had some really scary dreams sometimes, so someone that saw as much as Dean must have really horrific nightmares. 

“Oh… yeah.” Dean still looked a bit confused. “I… I ‘member… pain. And a guy who… Dad!” Dean’s eyes went wide and he tried to sit up only to cry out in pain. An alarm went off on one of the machines next to him and the boy’s body started to tremble. Tears were leaking from Dean’s tightly clenched eyes as the doctor rushed into the room trailed by a nurse.

“Your father’s alright. He’s going to be alright.” His mother assured Dean. “He’s getting patched up right now, just like you just did, and then they’ll move him into a room. You both made it through.”

Dean seemed to hear her through his panic, because he relaxed slightly just as the doctor reached him, although his breaths were coming in harsh, pain-filled pants. 

“Dean,” The doctor spoke in a calm voice but it was a bit annoying. To Sam it sounded as though he was talking to a small child, not to an older boy like Dean. “You have to remain calm. You are safe. Everything is okay. Are you in pain?”

Dean opened his eyes and scowled at the man. “What… do you… think, doc?” He ground out between clenched teeth.

Sam giggled.

“Okay, well I can give you something for that if you can answer a few simple questions for me. Can you do that?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yep.”

“What’s you’re name?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Age?”

Dean went to answer but then actually seemed to have to think about it for a moment. “Twelve.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“A hospital.” Dean groaned. “And before… you ask… it hurts everywhere.”

The doctor actually chuckled a little. “I’ll get you some medication for that. But you have to promise that you’ll remain as still as possible. You need to give your body time to recuperate.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

Sam sank back down into the bed next to Dean when he heard his brother’s weary tone. He knew that the older boy wouldn’t be awake much longer and he figured that maybe he’d take that opportunity to sleep too. That way he’d be awake when Dean was. He didn’t want to miss spending a single moment with his big brother now that he’d finally gotten him back.


	115. Small Comforts

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen: Small Comforts 

Sam wasn’t with Mary when she entered the small room in the intensive care unit that the hospital staff had just moved John Winchester into, so Castiel assumed that he was still with his older brother. He couldn’t reach out with his senses and check though, because of the protective symbols on the younger boy’s ribs but knew that the room next door was protected from demons and angels and thus was safe for the child to be left in. All he really wanted to do at that point was go next door and sit with his friend but he knew that he should stay put until Mary had a chance to draw the protection sigils in here as well. It wouldn’t do to have angels attacking John and Mary while he was busy with Dean in the young hunter’s dreams. 

Castiel wandered around the room invisibly, only half-listening as the doctor explained how John’s scans revealed no major signs of brain damage but that they just wouldn’t know anything for certain until he woke up and that they didn’t know when or if that would be. The angel tuned out the rest of the conversation as he checked on Dean and sensed that the boy was dreaming and very distressed again. He wondered if the doctor would ever stop talking and leave the room so that Mary could get to work. Castiel wanted to go to Dean and he didn’t want to wait any longer. 

Finally, the room cleared out save for Mary, who gave her husband a kiss on his cheek and then closed the door, before taking a permanent marker out of her purse. Castiel watched her remove a painting of a boathouse next to a swirling ocean and place it on the chair pushed against the wall. Had he had a marker as well, the angel would’ve joined her in protecting the room, but without anything to draw with all he could do was wait and worry. And think about his brothers and sisters.

They had been here. In this very hospital. The question was why. The first part of that answer was obvious; to get their hands on Dean. Whether it was to just question him or to take him away for interrogation, Castiel didn’t know, but they had definitely been here for the young hunter. What Castiel didn’t know was why they hadn’t carried through with their plans. Sure he’d blocked Dean and John from their powers of location, but it wouldn’t have been difficult for them to have gone from room to room or to have found Mary or Sam and have tried to have gotten the information from them. But instead, something else had happened. Castiel hadn’t lied to Dean when he’d told his friend that he didn’t know which angels had shown up or what had gone on, but he did know that there had been some sort of argument. And Castiel had sensed the raw power of an archangel. Then they were all gone. He’d feared for Mary and Sam, but it turned out that the Winchesters were fine. So what had happened? Which of his siblings had shown up here and what were they arguing over? And who had won? All Castiel knew was that it never turned out well when the angels started fighting one another.

“All done, Castiel.” Mary said quietly. “You can go next door now.”

The angel smiled. Almost eight years he’d spent with this family and it seemed that they now knew him a bit too well. 

Castiel appeared in Dean’s hospital room and, after making certain that no one besides the sleeping brothers was in the room, he dropped his invisibility disguise. He reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the charm that allowed him to enter and leave the angel protected rooms with nothing more than a slight buzzing in the back of his head. As long as none of the other angels ever found out about it, they’d be alright, and since his status as an angel was still a secret from them, Castiel figured that it was safe for the moment. 

The angel quietly approached the bed and pulled up a chair. After sitting down, Castiel gently touched Dean’s shoulder. He’d give anything to heal the boy, but he knew that exposing himself as an angel would be dangerous for all of them. Still, it was extremely tempting. But instead, he concentrated and allowed the hospital room to fall away.

Castiel expected Hell. What he did not expect was for it to be flickering in and out of existence, warring with several confusing backgrounds; or for Alistair to be switching between his demon form and the host bodies he’d been in when he’d attacked Dean, both as a kid and as an adult; or for Dean to be a four year old one moment, a thirty year old the next, then a twelve year old, and then back to four. The only thing that seemed to remain consistent was that Dean was in pain. Castiel realized what Dean had meant earlier when he’d said that he thought that he was losing his grip on reality. This had to stop. Now.

“Dean.” Castiel spoke as calmly as he could.

The boy’s desperate eyes turned towards him and as the angel watched, he grew from a small child into the man that Castiel had fought along side of in a world that would now no longer exist. The world around them shifted from the Winchesters’ backyard, where the swing set had been dripping with blood and knives had grown out of the grass like demented flowers, to Hell. The chains from the swing set remained and lashed out to wrap themselves around Dean’s limbs and his throat, pulling him back against a wall while Alastair, who’d shifted from a man with white eyes to his hideous demon form, stalked towards him holding a wicked-looking blade. Dean gasped and struggled but kept his terror-filled eyes glued to Castiel.

“Cas… please…” He managed to get out.

And with that acknowledgement, the angel took control over the dream. With a wave of his hand, he pushed every memory of Hell as far back into Dean’s subconscious as he could. Alastair disappeared, as did the blade and the chains. Their surroundings seemed to fade into nothingness, as though they were standing in a room that someone had chose to paint the color of morning fog. There was nothing left but Castiel and Dean.

Dean collapsed to his knees and started to shake violently. Castiel was by his side in seconds. He knelt down and placed a hand on the young man’s back not sure what his friend needed or would accept. Usually, when Dean was a child he would be more open to gestures of affection, such as a hug or being held. But when they were in his dreams and he was an adult, Dean was… well, Dean. He’d hide his emotions under his typical attitude and they’d just hang out and have fun while Dean pretended that all was right with the world, while it was sometimes obvious that there was so much still wrong. So Castiel was prepared for his friend to stand up and rearrange their surroundings into a bar, or an amusement park, or something that would take the focus off of what Dean had just been through. But instead, and maybe it was because of the confusion of what he’d just been through, Dean shifted closer to Castiel as he continued to shiver.

“God, Cas… I don’t… what’s real?”

“I am, Dean. I’m real.” It was all he could offer, since the world had turned against the young man so many years ago and if anyone had reason to challenge what was going on in their own heads, it was Dean. Besides, it wasn’t as if telling Dean the truth about what was going on would be much of a comfort right now.

Dean let out a short laugh. “Kinda figured that out.” But despite the lightness of the words, his tone was still heavy with emotion, and Castiel was surprised when the hunter’s hands came up to clutch onto his trench coat. 

The angel kept his hand on the young man’s back but now rubbed small circles as he’d seen Dean’s mother do many times to calm her sons. Dean laid his head against Castiel’s shoulder as his shaking began to diminish. “Would it also help to know that you are no longer in Hell?”

“I think I figured that out too. The rest is still a bit fuzzy.”

“And it is nothing for you to worry about at the moment.”

“That probably means that something crappy is going on.” When Castiel didn’t answer, Dean continued. “’Course, this being my life, that is pretty much a given.”

“It does seem to be a pattern.”

They sat like that in silence for a few minutes more before Dean released his hold on Castiel and straightened up. The angel took his hand away and faced his friend. 

“So, what’s going on, Cas?”

“I meant it when I said that it was nothing that you needed to worry about right now.”

“I’m asleep and you weren’t here.” Castiel flinched even though there was no accusation in Dean’s voice. “That mean’s something happened to me and there’s something still going on. I’m having a hard time getting my thoughts straight and I think you might’ve pushed some of those memories away too when you swept up the Hell crap.”

Castiel was pretty sure that Dean was right and he was pleased that he had. Dean didn’t need to be remembering being hit by a car, being beaten, or being stabbed right now. But he couldn’t keep the truth from his friend or the young hunter would just keep picking at it and picking at it. “You and your father were taken by a man who was killing hunters and their sons. The man is now dead and you are both in the hospital and recovering.”

Dean seemed to think this over and then his eyes widened. “Angels! You were in my head earlier and you mentioned that the angels were here!”

“They are gone.” At Dean’s skeptical look, Castiel filled him in on what he knew. Which, of course, wasn’t much.

“Which archangel do you think it was?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel admitted.

“Maybe Gabriel finally got up off his ass and decided to help us out?”

“Perhaps, but he probably would’ve announced his presence to us.”

“Well, when I wake up we can go check the vending machines. If there’s chocolate left in them, we’ll know that Gabe wasn’t here.”

Castiel smiled. “I’m going to assume that one of the angels that showed up to look for you was Zachariah, as he had shown up at your school that one time.”

Dean nodded. “But that still leaves a lot of questions unanswered.”

“It does.”

“And you’re sure that my family is alright?”

“They are unharmed. Sam is sleeping on the bed next to you and your mother is in the room next to yours with your father. Neither has a mark on them.”

“Did they see anything? Did the angels threaten them?”

“I have not spoken with them about it. I’ve been keeping you and your father safe this entire time.”

Dean sent him a questioning look. “How did you know to keep us safe? I mean, it’s generally a good idea with our lives but…”

“We were warned by a policeman that was approached by an angel at the house that you were found at.”

“How does a policeman know about angels?”

“He doesn’t.” Castiel clarified. “But he suspected that something was strange about the person and that you were in danger and he told your mom.”

“So you went into stealth mode in the operating rooms to protect us.” Dean nodded his understanding.

“Yes.”

“Well, maybe you should wake me up so we can try and figure out what happened and…”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Castiel tilted his chin up defiantly. “You were severely damaged, Dean. You need your rest to recover and I need to stay with you to assure that your rest is peaceful. You will awaken when your body is ready and not a moment before. And then we can worry about the angels. Your family is all in rooms well protected for the moment, so do not worry.”

It looked like Dean might argue for a moment, but then he just nodded. “Fine. But if I gotta stay in dreamland with you for a while longer, it sure as hell won’t be in an atmosphere like this. I mean seriously, Cas… this is just depressing. How about a game of pool? You almost beat me last time?”

Castiel nodded as they both stood. “I believe I would’ve beaten you had you not cheated, Dean.”

“What? Me? Cheat?” Dean plastered on a wounded expression and placed a hand on his chest. “I’m hurt, man.”

Their surroundings morphed into a barroom setting, complete with pool tables, a jukebox, and two cold beers sitting on the bar waiting. Dean snatched one up as he headed towards where the cues hung on the wall. With a shake of his head, the angel followed. He still worried about what his siblings were up to and what it could mean for the Winchesters but that would have to wait for the moment. For now, Castiel would just be here for Dean and help heal his mind as his body began to heal as well.


	116. Quid Pro Quo

Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen: Quid Pro Quo 

The lights were off and there were no windows in the small room, so it was dim and impossible for Dean to tell what time it was when he opened his eyes and blinked a few times to try and focus. To his left, Cas sat in a chair, with his hand resting on the boy’s shoulder gently, his eyes closed and his body slumped over slightly as though he himself were asleep. But Dean knew better. The angel’s consciousness had been in Dean’s dreams with him for the last… well, however long it had been. Dean turned his head slowly to his right and saw Sammy stretched out on the bed next to him, messy hair hanging in his face and book clutched in his small hands; a small book light attached to it illuminating the page that the boy was staring at. The little guy was engrossed in whatever it was that he was reading to the point that he was moving his mouth along with the words and was completely oblivious to the fact that his big brother had just woken up. Dean couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Yeah, that was his Sammy.

“Hey, geek-boy.” Dean rasped out. His voice was scratchy and weak but it got his brother’s attention.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed. “You’re awake!” He let the book drop onto the bed as he rolled over and hugged Dean tightly.

Dean suppressed a groan of pain as his ribs protested and wrapped his right arm around his little brother. He tried to move his left arm as well, but it wouldn’t move. A glance down revealed that it was encased in a bright green plaster cast. Dean was hit with the memory of a car slamming into him and then a foot crunching down on the already damaged limb. He winced. With effort, Dean pulled himself from those memories to focus on the here and now. “’Course I am, Sammy. I could here your brain working over there.”

Sam released him and reached over to the table alongside the bed. He rolled back over and held out a cup with a straw. “Here, Dean. Have some water. Your voice sounds awful.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dean replied sarcastically, but took a grateful swallow of the cold, soothing liquid. 

“Is that better?”

“Yeah.” He answered truthfully. “How long have I been out?”

“A while. It’s…” Sam took a moment to look at his watch. “Almost eleven am and you were brought in yesterday. You’ve opened your eyes a couple of times but not really woken up. And we had to lie to the nurses and tell them that Cas had woken and gotten up a few times and had eaten so that they wouldn’t think that there was something wrong with him too.”

“There is nothing wrong with me.” Cas replied.

“Well, I wouldn’t go _that_ far.” Dean mumbled teasingly. “But it’s good to know that the staff here wasn’t going to admit you too.” He looked around. “Where’s Mom? She with Dad? How is he?”

“Dad hasn’t woken up yet, but Mom says that the doctors are hopeful that he’ll be up soon. Something about some increased readings on his newest scans or something.”

“Well that’s specific.”

“I don’t know! I’m not a doctor!” Sam defended.

“I know, Sammy. I’m just giving you a hard time.” Dean reached up with his good hand and ruffled the boy’s already messy hair. “But how is he? Like, is he really injured?”

“He’s all bandaged up like you. And you both have lots of stitches and broken ribs and stuff. The only real difference besides the fact that you’re awake is that you broke your arm really bad and he broke his leg.” Dean saw tears coming to Sam’s eyes and he wrapped the little guy in as tight a hug as he could manage. “I was scared that I was gonna lose you Dean.”

“Not gonna happen, Sammy.”

“And then we got you back only for the angels to try and take you away and…”

Dean pulled away a bit so that he could look at Sam’s face. “You know about that?”

“Uh huh.” Sam nodded. “I saw them. They came after us in the cafeteria.”

“Are you and Mom okay?”

“Yeah. Mom wasn’t even there. It was just me and Anderson.”

Dean blinked as he tried to figure out what the heck his brother was talking about. “Who?”

“Oh, Officer Scott Anderson. He’s one of the police officers that found you and Dad in the house when Cas called the cops in. Mom wanted it that way so that less questions would be asked. Anyways, Zachariah threatened Anderson at the house and then Anderson told us about it and I went to the cafeteria with him and that’s where the angels attacked us.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, that’s the cop that you were telling me about then, Cas.”

“He’s pretty cool, Dean.” Sam added. “Except Mom says that he’s probably gonna go nuts from the whole ‘too much, too fast’ thing.”

“So I take it he lived through the angel fight.”

“Yeah, and he kept me safe too.”

Dean smiled and held Sam close. “I’ll have to thank him then.”

“Well, he’s still hanging around ‘cause he’s gotta talk to you and Dad ‘bout the whole kidnapping thing. That’s why he was here in the first place.”

Dean nodded but ignored those memories in favor of getting more information on the angels. “So what exactly happened in the cafeteria? Because I doubt that Zach would just give up or that a cop could fight off angels. And Cas said that the angels were arguing?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Zachariah and Raphael showed up and were asking about you and threatening us and were about to kill Anderson ‘cause he was talking back and protecting me but then the tv set turned on and there was a loud ringing noise and the windows exploded. Anderson got me under the table and helped cover my ears when it got even louder and then it started to get bright too, so he shielded my eyes. Then it all stopped and the angels were gone.”

Dean stared at him. “That was another angel, Sam.”

“I know.” Sam nodded. “We all talked about it afterwards. It was Michael.”

Dean felt the blood drain from his face. Damn it. That could not be good news. ‘How… how do you know that?”

“Anderson can hear and even kinda see angels in their true forms.” Sam informed him.

“You’re serious?”

“Yep. We were all surprised. And Mom said that Anderson was in shock.” Sam chewed on his bottom lip, as if he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if he should or not. 

“What else, Sammy?”

“Well, Anderson said that Michael yelled at the other angels and told them to leave us all alone. That Zachariah ran away and Michael forced Raphael to leave. He says Michael doesn’t like how the other angels are acting. But Mom didn’t seem to believe him and wouldn’t tell me why. Kinda just told me to drop it.”

Dean exchanged a look with Cas. His mom was right not to believe that Michael would be on their side but on the other hand, Cas _did_ say that he sensed an argument between the angels…

“Maybe I can talk to this police guy?”

Sammy shook his head. “No, he said that he’s gotta question you, but not ‘til you’re feeling a little better…”

“I’m feeling fine.”

“… and not without a parent present.” Sam continued as though Dean hadn’t spoken. “So maybe later or tomorrow?”

Dean rolled his eyes but let the subject drop. It wasn’t like Sam could do anything about it anyways.

It wasn’t until that evening, after being okayed by the doctor and eating a bland and almost inedible dinner, that Dean was allowed to ‘be interviewed’ by Officer Anderson. He was lying in the hospital bed, with it tilted as upright as possible, and his mom sitting in the chair to his right. Sam had gone next door with Cas to spend some time with their dad. The moment the door opened, Dean turned his gaze to the man that entered and sized him up.

The young hunter wasn’t quite sure what he expected a policeman that not only believed in the supernatural but also could perceive an angel’s true form to look like but the guy that walked into his room looked far too… normal? Unassuming? Harmless? On the other hand, Dean knew that he looked nothing like the dangerous hunter that he really was, so he should really be the last person to judge. Officer Anderson was tall, not as tall as Sam would eventually be, but still had an inch or two over Cas. But he was thin and wiry and didn’t look the least bit intimidating. His slightly longish brown hair had an unkempt look to it, although whether that was its usual look or from sleeping in the waiting room of a hospital, Dean didn’t know. The fact that his clothes were rumpled and his uniform shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing the white t-shit underneath led Dean to believe that the man might’ve been resting prior to being summoned to Dean’s room.

Anderson smiled as he took a seat on Dean’s left. “Hello, Dean. It’s good to finally meet you. I hope you’re feeling better.”

Dean shrugged his right shoulder. “Don’t feel too much like crap, but that’s probably just from the meds.”

“Dean.” His mom warned as the officer seemed a bit surprised at his blunt answer.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I mean, I’m doing lovely today, officer. How are you?”

Anderson let out a laugh. “Somehow I think that answer number one was closer to the truth. But I’m alright.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Really? Even with all the crap that went on yesterday, you’re alright?”

The policeman shrugged. “No angels attacked me today, so yeah, I’m alright.”

The boy nodded. “Good answer.”

“I thought so. Now I have some questions.”

“I’m sure you do. So do I.”

Anderson looked at him curiously. “You want a quid pro quo?” 

“I’d make a ‘Silence of the Lambs’ joke here, but I really don’t think I’d be cast for either of those roles. But yeah, I’m thinking an exchange of info would be a good thing. You need details on the case for your job and we both need to get this angel crap sorted.”

“Okay then.” Anderson agreed. “But we start with the case. The officer that sent me here is just looking for a reason to have my ass, and completing this interview will go a long way to getting him to back off.” Dean was surprised at the officer’s frankness, but appreciated the way that he was addressing the boy as if he were an adult rather than talking down to him. He supposed that the guy was good at reading people, had taken in Dean’s way of talking and decided on treating him as an equal. That would work out just fine. 

Dean nodded. “Fair enough.”

A strange look passed over the officer’s face. “That is, if you can tell me about it. I mean, it’s not like the guy was a vampire or anything crazy like that, right? ‘Cause I have no clue how I’d write up my report then.”

Dean laughed. “Nope, you’re in luck. Nothing supernatural here. Well, not really. Unless you count the fact that this guy went cuckoo for cocoa puffs because his family was offed by something supernatural or the fact that all the victims were hunters and their sons. But dismissing that, he was a human wacko that kidnapped people and killed them.” Dean took a deep breath and proceeded to give as much details as he could, a bit relieved that this guy knew of the supernatural and would most certainly revise the details. For once it had seemed that the Winchesters had lucked out when it came to matters involving the law. When he was done, he cleared his throat, took a drink of water and looked at the cop. “So, your turn. What do you know about Michael and his plans?”

“Not much. I just know that he got really mad at the other two angels. Mad enough to partially come down here and… I don’t know, remove Raphael from the hospital when he refused to leave.”

Dean sighed. “Look, it’s not that I think you’re lying or anything, it’s just that…”

“You and your mom are suspicious of Michael. Yeah, I got that. But I know what happened in that room.”

“Well, Cas thinks you might be right.”

“He does?”

“Yeah. He sensed that angels were arguing. Fighting. But I can assure you that when that happens, it’s never good news.” Dean sighed. “I need to know everything you heard. We gotta all figure this out. You know, before a war breaks out and destroys all life on this planet.”


	117. Protection

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen: Protection 

Dean looked between his mom and the policeman and wasn’t quite sure where to begin. His mom knew quite a bit about his life and all that crap, but Anderson knew next to nothing and really couldn’t be told the truth. But if they were going to be discussing angel plans and apocalypse stuff, Dean would have to say something. Yeah, this was going to be fun.

“Okay… well, first off, you need to know that I know what was supposed to happen in the future. Don’t ask how. But the angels and demons had this lame ass plot to bring about the end of the world by raising Lucifer and having Michael fight him. Whoever won would claim the planet for their side. But the fight would wipe out a whole crapload of us ‘mere humans’. But neither side really cared. So me and my family threw a monkey wrench into those plans. We’ve killed a few demons that were key players to raising Lucy, so there won’t be any prize fight and now both sides are scrambling to come up with a plan B. And they want me to figure out why I screwed over plan A. But, as far as I know, Mikey is pro-apocalypse, not pro-Winchester. And…” Dean looked to his mom, really not sure if he should mention the next part but she nodded. The hunter sighed. Trusting strangers wasn’t something that came easily, but this guy _did_ protect Sammy and could prove to be useful if he could perceive angels in their true form. “And angels need willing vessels. Really powerful archangels need specific vessels. I’m supposed to be Michael’s vessel. But I will _never_ agree to that. Trust me, being a vessel is _not_ a good thing. And you might need to know that, ‘cause if the angels know about your little gift, they might want to find a use for you. Hell, there might be a reason that you can do what you do.” Dean shrugged.

“Trust me, I’m not signing up for anything they want me to do after seeing what I saw yesterday.” Anderson assured him. “But can we backtrack a bit? You know, to the part about Lucifer? And the apocalypse?”

Yeah, Dean had figured that he’d just dumped quite a bit on the guy. But they might not really have the time to take things slow. “Yeah, Lucifer. The devil. Satan. And all those other names they taught you in Sunday school… if you know, you actually went to Sunday school. But he’s trapped in a cage of sorts down in Hell right now and the apocalypse can’t start without him. And as far as I know, he can’t get out without this one ritual being performed that involves these seals breaking and that can’t happen anymore. Thanks to my family. So, we pissed off Heaven and Hell and they now want to get my ass so they can burn our world.”

“Okay, I can see the demons wanting that, and I guess since the angels have their own motives, they aren’t acting in our best interest.” Anderson nodded, deep in thought. “But we already know that not all angels are against you guys.”

“How can we assume that?” Dean asked.

“Your friend Cas.”

“Cas is… different.”

“I’m sure he is. But that doesn’t mean that he’s alone in being different.” The policeman pointed out. “Look, I’m not even going to pretend to know as much about all this stuff as you guys do, but I know that it’s impossible to expect a group of people to all act the same and agree all the time. It makes sense that maybe some of these angels might not agree with this plan for the apocalypse.”

“Did you not catch the part where Michael needs me as his freakin’ suit? That alone makes me doubt that he has my family’s best interest at heart for any good reasons.” Dean thought it over. “Unless he was putting on a show. Making it look like he was protecting us so that we’d trust him.”

Anderson shook his head, dismissing Dean’s theory before it had fully formed in his head. “No. No, I don’t think so. First off, it just… it didn’t feel that way. And also, Michael and the others, they didn’t even know that I could hear them at first. I was kind of eavesdropping on their argument. Michael must’ve realized it at some point, because he instructed me to shield my eyes when he was getting brighter.”

“He warned you? Huh. Usually angels don’t give a rat’s ass if they burn some poor human’s eyes from their sockets.” Dean commented

“Which might mean that he’s not the jerk that you think he is.”

Dean ran his hand over his face. “It just doesn’t add up with what I know.”

“Well you _did_ say that you guys changed things, right?”

Before Dean could respond, the door to his room burst open and Sam stuck his head in. “Mom! Dad’s waking up!”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

As it turned out, ‘waking up’ was probably a bit of an exaggeration as the man had apparently just opened his eyes for a few seconds on and off for a bit and mumbled some words that no one could really make out before going back to sleep, but the Winchesters were all relieved. And Scott Anderson had used that as the perfect excuse to slip from Dean’s room to make his way back to the waiting room to rest and absorb all that he’d just been told. Of course, the extra time and a full night of tossing and turning on the small couch hadn’t really helped. And the next day was filled with pretty much the same. Pacing in the small room, going for walks around the hospital, checking in periodically with the station, poking his head into Dean’s room every once in a while, and just trying to cope with the craziness that had invaded his life. 

Speaking of craziness… Scott glanced down at the stuff that Mary had given him. In his hand he held a charm of some sort that was supposed to protect him from demon possession. Angels needed consent, demons didn’t but couldn’t get inside you if you had one of these. Although she’d advised him to get the symbol tattooed on himself as soon as possible instead, as charms could be lost or broken. Scott pulled the silver chain out from under the white t-shirt he was wearing (his uniform shirt long discarded on one of the chairs in the corner) and undid the clasp. He carefully slipped the charm onto the chain and replaced in around his neck. After carefully tucking it back out of sight, not wanting to explain the symbol to anyone, he looked back at the supplies he’d been given. 

Apparently at some point, Cas had slipped out and located their car and Mary had driven it back to the hospital. Scott wondered what else they kept in there besides the ‘emergency kit’ he’d been given. There were two small bottles; one filled with holy water, one with holy oil. The water was to repel demons; the oil to trap an angel in a ring of fire. He’d also been given salt and told of its many uses against the supernatural. And here he’d thought it just tasted damn good on French fries. There was a small iron knife that he wasn’t sure how he was going to get away with carrying on the job and an ankle sheath for it. Mary also promised to copy down all the protection symbols she felt that he’d need. Just the fact that he might need any of this made Scott kind of nervous. Sure he’d accepted the concept of putting his life in danger when he’d decided to join the police force but this was a whole new level. Normal criminals couldn’t burn you from the inside out just by looking at you. 

A knock on the door had him quickly sweeping all the supplies back into the small bag he’d been given and dropping it along side the couch. 

“Come in.”

The door opened and one of the nurses peeked in. It took Scott only a second to recognize her. She’d been checking in on him every once in a while on her past two shifts, asking if he’d eaten and slept. 

“Hey, Jan. I was just getting ready to go down to the cafeteria for some dinner after I checked in on the Winchesters.”

“You look like hell, Scott. Have you slept at all?”

“This couch isn’t quite long enough to get comfortable on.”

The older woman looked him over. “You look troubled. That never leads anywhere good.”

Scott shrugged and forced a smile to his face. “It’s been a few long days is all.”

“That’s what your momma used to say.”

“We’re not going there, Jan.” Scott cut her off. He should’ve known that if he hung around in the same place that his mother used to work long enough, one of her ex-coworkers would try to bring stuff up. But she’d been gone for years and he had enough crap to think about right now. “Anyway, I really am okay.”

“If you insist.” Jan replied, unconvinced. “But you should really talk to your supervisor about letting you go home to get proper sleep. From what I understand it might be another day at least before Mr. Winchester can give you a statement and I don’t see why you need to stay here that entire time.”

_Because my supervisor is a prick._ Scott thought but didn’t voice the truth to her. Instead, he shrugged. “I’ll look into it.”

“Not that we mind having you here. I remember you spending so much time running around these halls when you were little and your momma was on shift. You were such a cute little one. Kind of scrawny…” She looked him over. “…that hasn’t changed much. You really should eat more.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I will, Jan. I promise.”

“Alright. I know when I’m getting the brush off.” She smiled and ran a hand through her red-dyed hair that was turning grey at the roots. “I’ll check in again later, Scott.”

“I’ll see you then.” He got up and walked over to grab his uniform shirt from the other side of the room when he heard a gasping noise, followed by a thud. 

 

Scott spun around to see Jan lying on the floor with her throat cut open and blood pouring out all over the carpet. A man stood over her holding a large knife, thick red fluid dripping from the blade. The door closed behind him without being touched. Okay then, the guy was _not_ human. Scott looked down at the dead nurse and then up to the person… the thing that had killed her. He felt his heart pick up speed and glanced over to the bag of protection stuff that he’d been given that was too far out of reach. He looked back at the guy just in time to see the man’s eyes turn black as the mouth twisted into an evil smile of pleasure. Black eyes… demon. Oh yeah. Scott was dead.

“Well… no screaming, or stuttered questions, or hysterics? Either you’re completely in shock or your new friends, the Winchesters, gave you more information than I figured.”

“I…” Scott cleared his throat and willed his voice not to shake. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you can cut the crap. I know that they’re here. I sensed the angels and followed them here. What a surprise to find two injured Winchesters. Of course, I can’t get into those rooms, since they’re so well protected. Too bad that in all the rush they forgot to protect this room.”

“What do you want with them?”

“Whatever the angels did.” The demon replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Then it paused to take a lick of the blood from the knife, keeping its black eyes on Scott the entire time. The police officer felt a wave of revulsion run through him. “See, we’ve been on sort of a stand down. A watch and wait kind of a deal. Not so much fun. Certainly not as much fun as this.” The creature gestured to the dead nurse. “But I find out that the angels are making a play and you know what that tells me? That tells me that things have changed. And if I’m the one to find out why and report it back to Alastair, that secures me one sweet position in Hell.”

“I’m sure you’ll get a lovely throne made of fire and brimstone.” Scott assured him. “Except for the fact that you can’t get to the Winchesters.”

“That’s where you come in.”

“I’m not going to help you.”

“Oh you will.” The demon grinned again. “I just slip inside you and call for Mary to bring her brat out into the hall for a private talk. And since you’re all best of friends, she won’t be suspicious at all. With the little guy hurt and them not expecting ‘you’ to attack, I’ll have them right where I want them.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Scott shook his head.

“It’s not something you can stop.” With that, the man threw his head back and a rush a black smoke flew from his open mouth. It crossed the space between the two within seconds and Scott stumbled back to get away. 

For a moment, the police officer worried that the anti-possession charm he’d been given wouldn’t work and he wondered what it’d be like to be taken over by a demon, and how well the last shreds of his sanity would hold up under those circumstances. But then the inky black smoke crashed into his face, smelling like sulfur, and pressed up against him, yet it didn’t enter his body. Scott watched as it pulled away from him and flew up towards the ceiling, sparks igniting within its depths. Then he tore his eyes away from the terrifyingly awesome sight and dove for the bag he’d discarded only minutes before. 

Scott opened the bag and rummaged through, pulling out the small bottle of holy water (he double checked to make certain that it wasn’t the oil) and was just going for the knife when he was grabbed from behind. At least, it felt like he was grabbed, yet it wasn’t by human hands but by some kind of unseen force. Scott tightened his grip on the bottle so as not to drop it as he was thrown into the wall with superhuman force. He felt the air rush from his lungs. The officer didn’t even realize that he’d closed his eyes until he blinked them open to find the demon, once more possessing the same man as before, standing in front of him.

“You’re protected.”

“Yeah…” Scott gasped out. “Forgot to mention that.”

“Take it off.”

“No.”

He saw a flash of the blade and then pain seemed to explode down his right arm, from his shoulder to forearm. Scott bit into his lip hard enough to draw blood and made a strangled moaning noise, but managed not to scream. He really didn’t want to attract anyone into the room, aware that they’d meet the same fate as Jan had. After a moment, he rolled his head to the side to look down at his arm, although part of him really didn’t want to. All he saw was blood from his shoulder down to his wrist but he was almost certain that the cut didn’t go down that far. It was probably just bleeding a lot. 

“You have a lot of skin that I can cut. And I will enjoy every slice. Save yourself the pain and take off the protection.”

“No.”

The next slice was across his chest and hurt just as bad, if not worse. If Scott had not been pinned against the wall by the demon’s power, he knew that he’d have been curled up on the ground in pain. But as long as he was upright, he needed to find a way to fight back because he really didn’t feel like being carved up like a Thanksgiving day turkey. But all of his weapons were across the room. Well, all except the bottle in his left hand. Scott started to work the cap off, pleased that although he couldn’t move away from the wall, his hand still had some range of motion.

“I can keep this up all day. Can you?” The possessed man asked, his face only inches from Scott’s.

“Yes, I can.” Scott narrowed his eyes, finding some reserve of strength he’d have never imagined that he had. “And I will _never_ cooperate with you.” Then, with as much force as he could manage, the officer splashed some of the holy water up and into the demon’s face. 

Smoke rose from the demon’s skin as Scott dropped to the floor. He let out a small cry that he immediately bit back. Then the injured officer rolled over and started to crawl towards his bag. He didn’t get far before the demon grabbed him, this time with his host body’s hands, and flipped him onto his back. Scott’s vision blacked out for a moment and he wondered how much blood he’d lost. Not as much as he would in a moment if the demon used that knife on him again.

“Well, if that’s your answer, then you’re really no use to me.” The demon stated, raising the knife high in the air. “Too bad too. You’re better looking than this body and I’ve never rode a cop before. Oh well. I’m sure I’ll come up with another way to get at the Winchesters. Time to say ‘goodbye’.”

Scott looked up at the knife and wondered if his death would be quick and how much it was going to hurt.


	118. Taken Care Of

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen: Taken Care Of 

“I don’t think transporting myself to a fast food restaurant and back with a cheeseburger and French fries is ‘using my powers for the betterment of mankind’.” Castiel explained to Dean as the young hunter pointedly pushed away the tray holding his dinner.

“I’m a man…” He looked down at his small body. “… sort of, and thus part of ‘mankind’ and bringing me food that is actually edible, unlike this crap, is definitely for the ‘betterment’. So, yeah. I stand by my statement, Cas.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “And when I get caught bringing you outside food, which you know you are not allowed, and are no longer allowed to visit you, I assume there is another angel who will help you with your nightmares?”

Dean scowled at him. “Fine. Let me starve.”

“You have food to eat.” The angel reminded him.

“You call that food?”

Castiel took the lid off the plate and looked at the meal. Yes, it was food. But even _he_ had to admit that it looked unappetizing. “Perhaps I can bring you something from the cafeteria. They might not be as strict with that.”

Dean sighed. “Not as good as a cheeseburger, but I guess I’ll take cafeteria food.” He glanced over at the clock. “Speaking of which, you think Anderson blew us off and just went down for dinner?”

“No, he always shows up when he says he will.”

“Well, he’s late.”

Castiel reached out to check on the police officer to see if the man had perhaps fallen asleep, because you’d have to be blind not to notice that Anderson hadn’t been getting much rest since this had all began for him, and was immediately overwhelmed by agony the moment that he touched the guy’s mind. The angel’s eyes went wide as realization hit. Anderson had been injured, and badly. Without hesitation, Castiel stood up and transported himself into the waiting room with the police officer.

It took only a second to comprehend what had happened. The angel had practically closed off his ability to sense demons and other angels because it allowed other powerful beings to get a sense of him as well, but this close to the presence in the room made it impossible for him to not realize that the man standing over the body on the floor was possessed. As for the person on the floor, Castiel glanced down to see Anderson lying on his back, blood soaking the front of his once white t-shirt and streaming down his right arm. His overly-large brown eyes were filled with pain, fear, and defiance as he stared up at the demon that crouched over him with a huge knife that was dripping blood. 

Castiel knew that neither of the room’s occupants had noticed him yet, so he pulled out his angel blade and started forwards, almost stepping on the body of a deceased woman in a nurse’s uniform. Noting that she was beyond saving, the angel moved around her and kept going until he’d reached the demon. At the last moment, the thing possessing the man realized that Castiel was there, but by then it was far too late. Castiel dropped to one knee and thrust his sword into the demon’s stomach, watching as its stolen eyes widened and light flickered inside. He placed his left hand against the man’s shoulder and pulled his blade free, pushing the corpse to the side so that it wouldn’t fall on the injured policeman. 

The threat disposed of, Castiel put away his weapon and turned his attention to Anderson. The officer looked up at him, pain still etched in his features, but the fear was now replaced by relief and confusion. 

“I sensed that you were in danger.” Castiel explained.

“Could’ve… shown up… a… a bit earlier.”

“We didn’t know. I came as soon as…” Castiel felt Anderson grab his hand.

“Thanks.”

Castiel nodded. “Are there more? Did it say if there were more in the hospital or if more were on the way?” Dean and the others were safe, protected in their warded hospital rooms, but that wasn’t a guarantee, especially since Mary and Sam couldn’t stay in those rooms forever. He felt bad for pressing the injured man for information, but he needed to know what they were up against.

“No. No more.” Anderson let out a groan and closed his eyes. For a moment, Castiel thought that the man had passed out, but then his eyes opened halfway. “Said that… wanted… to impress… uh… can’t remember name…” The officer squeezed his eyes closed in a combination of pain and concentration. “Al… Ala…”

“Alastair?” Castiel supplied, worried that the answer might be ‘yes’.

“Yeah. That’s it. He… wanted to… to know why… angels… why they were here... for Dean. Thought that… if he were the… one to tell… to tell Alastair that… he’d get a… a good position… in Hell. But… didn’t sound like… he’d told anyone yet. Wanted all the… the glory for himself.” Anderson stopped talking to take shallow, ragged breaths. Castiel knew that he had to call for medical help for the man soon. But first he needed to get some things ready.

“That’s good. Thank you. I need to get rid of the things that Mary gave you earlier so that no questions are asked. I’ll be right back.”

“Used… used some water.”

Castiel looked at him for a moment before he realized that Anderson was talking about the holy water. He looked around and sure enough saw the small bottle lying on the floor. The angel picked it up, located the cap and screwed it back on. After putting it back in the bag and zipping the pack closed, he transported himself out to the Impala. Castiel pulled out the spare set of keys that he’d been given and popped open the trunk. The angel tossed in the bag, closed the car, and returned to the waiting room.

Miraculously, Anderson was still awake. Castiel figured that the man probably didn’t want to fall asleep for fear of not waking back up. But the thread of consciousness that he was hanging onto was not a very strong one. 

“I need you to stay with me for just a little longer. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” The officer agreed weakly.

“I cannot take credit for killing this man. It would not be good for me to get caught up in all of this.” Anderson nodded his understanding and Castiel continued. “Perhaps you can take the credit as it would be self defense.”

“Knife.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“Your weapon… is strange. Use… knife… in wound… then give… give to me.”

It took a moment for the angel to catch on but then it was his turn to nod. He reached over and went to take the knife, but Anderson stopped him.

“Prints.”

Castiel removed his tie and wrapped it around the handle of the knife. Then he grasped the weapon and dug the blade into the dead body, right where he’d already stabbed the possessed man a few minutes before. The large serrated blade was wider than his sword and widened the wound. After pulling the knife from the corpse, Castiel dropped it to the floor, just inches away from Anderson’s good hand and carefully removed his tie. The police officer reached over and grabbed onto the knife’s handle, gripped it tightly for a moment before it fell out of his grasp. But it was enough and now the scene looked right. It was time for Castiel to go alert the doctors to Anderson’s condition.

“I’m going to go and get you help.”

“Oh… good. Think… need…some.” The officer’s eyes were starting to flutter closed.

Castiel knew that he had to be careful because with a police officer involved, security cameras in the hall were sure to be checked. So he ran his hand over his clothes to clean the blood from them and then appeared back in Dean’s room. Without a word, he quickly left and made his way out of the ICU and down the hall to the waiting room. He opened the door, pretended to be surprised by what he saw and then turned toward the nurses’ station at the end of the hall.

“We need help in here. There are three people that appear to have been injured and are bleeding.” As he stepped back into the room, he figured that even Dean would be impressed with his acting skills. 

It was only moments later when people were rushing into the room and Castiel got pushed aside. He didn’t leave though. They’d left Anderson alone and unprotected and the man had almost died. That wasn’t a mistake he was going to make again. 

There was a bit of shocked sadness at the discovery that one of their own nurses was dead, but they quickly moved to the other two bodies to see if there was hope of saving either of them. Castiel heard Anderson’s first name mentioned a couple of times and some talk of what they thought might’ve happened in the room mixed in with their medical talk. From what the angel could tell, it seemed that their ruse had worked and that it was likely that the officer would survive if they could get his wounds stitched up and get some blood into him quickly. 

Castiel watched as Anderson, now unconscious, was rushed from the room. He excused himself, saying that he had to get back to Dean but that he’d be pleased to answer any questions that they might have later on, and then made his way back to his friend’s room.

By the time that he got there, Dean was sitting up in bed with Sam standing next to him; the younger boy trying desperately to keep his big brother from getting out of bed.

“Dean, you know that you’re only allowed up with help to go to the bathroom or if…”

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed. “What’s going on?”

“A demon attacked Anderson.” Castiel informed him. Then so Dean wouldn’t worry about his family being in danger, he added. “It was acting on its own and I killed it.”

“Why was it after Anderson?”

“From the way he was injured, and the information he told me before he passed out, I would imagine that the demon was most likely torturing him to try and get information on us and our situation with the angels showing up here.”

“Damn it!” Dean exclaimed, making Sam jump. “So we got him killed?”

“The doctors are working on him now. He’ll most likely be alright.”

“Is… is he hurt bad?” Sam asked.

Castiel wasn’t sure how to answer. The truth was that the officer had been cut deeply and had lost quite a bit of blood, but he was certain that that was not the answer that the little boy needed to hear. “He will be fine. I am going now to keep watch over him. If anyone comes to look for me, tell them I went for food and will return soon.”

Dean looked for a moment like he’d protest, but then the boy simply nodded. “Okay, Cas.”

Castiel concentrated for a moment to locate the injured police officer and then appeared in the room that he was in, making certain that he was invisible to the people in the room. He wondered if Anderson would’ve sensed him if he’d have been awake. Probably. The young man’s ability didn’t sit well with Castiel. No one was able to perceive angels true forms without the angels having some sort of use for them. Castiel himself was unaware of what it could be, but that sort of thing had always been well above what Dean would call his ‘pay grade’. But Castiel wasn’t the only angel that was ignorant of which humans possessed gifts and now he was concerned that their interaction with Anderson may have exposed him and endangered him. It certainly seemed to have put him in the line of fire so far. But depending on what the angels might have planned for him, things could possibly get worse for everyone involved.

The angel turned his attention to the officer in question. Anderson was still alive and the doctors already had blood going into him and the cut on his chest partially closed up. Castiel stepped back into the corner of the room where he’d be out of the way during his silent vigil and continued to contemplate what the future might hold for his family and everyone they knew.


	119. Interrogation

Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen: Interrogation 

John was still trying to process everything that he’d been told by his family once he’d finally completely woken up after over a day of being in and out of consciousness, and now this moron of a policeman was looming over him and interrogating him as if he were a suspect and not a victim. Hell, the cop had insisted on conducting the interview right that moment, even though John still felt like crap and could do with a bit more rest, and had tried to force his family to leave the room. Mary had put her foot down on that one, and finally the guy had relented, claiming that Dean needed to be questioned further anyways, but that no one but John was to speak unless spoken to. Yeah, this officer was a real dick and the hunter would much rather be discussing the recent events with his family and just enjoying their company than dealing with all of this. Man, he wished he had his gun…

“So, is that when you decided to shoot the man?”

John rolled his eyes. “There was no time for decisions, Officer. The guy was going to kill my son and I, and I had gotten my hands on his weapon. I reacted to protect ourselves.”

“Uh huh… and you’re sure it was his intention to kill you?”

“No. I’m sure the guy that tortured Dean and I and threw me into the basement filled with corpses might have been planning to invite us to a nice home cooked dinner.”

Off to the other side of the room, Dean snickered. Unfortunately, Officer Cutler didn’t seem to find any humor in the comment. “So, you’re convinced that your lives were in danger?”

“Were you at that house, Officer?”

“I was one of the first two officers on the scene, Mr. Winchester.” He said it like it was something to be proud of. 

“Then you saw what was there. That man was a monster. He’d stabbed my son and for all I knew, Dean wasn’t going to live much longer.”

“So you shot him out of revenge?”

“I shot the bastard so he wouldn’t continue to stab my twelve year old son and rob him of the slim chance at life that the boy was clinging to!” The monitors that he was hooked up to registered his aggravation. 

“Stop harassing my father, asshole.” Dean spoke up.

“If you speak up one more time, I’ll have you removed from this room.” Officer Cutler threatened.

“You continue to talk to my family this way, I’ll have you removed from this hospital.” Mary promised.

The policeman scowled at them. “I have a job to do, and that’s interviewing both victims, and I’m not leaving this room until you both cooperate and I’m satisfied with your answers.”

“I liked Anderson much better.” Sam pouted.

“Yeah well, since my partner is now a patient here after being stabbed in a drug robbery, you’re stuck with me, brat.” Officer Cutler snapped irritably. 

“You watch how you speak to my boys.” John growled.

“And maybe Anderson wouldn’t have gotten hurt if he’d been allowed to go home and travel here for the interviews like you, rather than being forced to live at the hospital for days to question us. Can you explain to us how it is that such a rude officer like yourself rates higher than him?” Mary’s tone was even but John knew that to be deceptive. She _did not_ like this man.

“I’m the senior partner.”

“Oh! So you kissed more ass and don’t have to worry about being in a waiting room when some moron breaks in looking for pharmaceuticals to steal and tries to stab you to death. How nice for you.”

John tried not to laugh. He didn’t care if it would piss off the cop, but he really didn’t want the action to aggravate his injured ribs. 

“One more word like that and I swear that I’ll find something to charge you with! Now, I am in charge of your interviews now that Officer Anderson has been taken off the case and I demand your cooperation!”

Anything that John was about to say was interrupted by a quiet voice from the doorway. “Technically, I haven’t officially been taken off the investigation. And I’m thinking that it might be best for all involved if I take over this interview.”

John turned to face the door and saw a nurse standing behind a man sitting in a wheelchair. His gaze dropped from the woman to the guy, who was dressed in a pair a jeans, a blue short-sleeve button down shirt, and a pair of hospital socks. He looked completely exhausted, from his sleep ruffled hair, to his pale skin, to the dark circles under his eyes and the drawn look on his face. And, adding to the look of poor health, was the fact that his right arm was held to his body in a sling. Still he looked up at the policeman in the room challengingly. Although he’d never met the man, John knew that this guy must be the officer that his family had told him about.

“You cannot be serious, Scott! You were almost killed yesterday.”

“And yet I’m still alive.”

“And you should be resting.”

“That’s what the wheelchair is for, Marc. Don’t even have to get up.”

“Well, you can turn that wheelchair around and go on back to your room, Scott. I got this under control.”

“First off, no I can’t. The lovely nurse that brought me here just went on break and I can’t move this damned thing with only one arm, so I’m stuck here for the time being. And as for you having it under control… well, it sure didn’t sound that way to me. So, why don’t you hand me that note pad and pen and go get yourself a coffee and head on home. I’ll finish up with my witnesses.”

“You look like crap and by all rights you should be dead. The only reason no one took you off the case officially is because you were in the hospital and we weren’t going to interrupt your surgery to tell you that you were out. Besides, I figured you’d have brains enough to grasp a concept like that. Should have known I was wrong about that.”

“Actually, I just got finished being interviewed by Danielle about the attack yesterday, and she had plenty of opportunities to tell me that I was off the job, yet she didn’t say a word about it. So, I can only assume that I’m still on the case.” Anderson wore a smirk as he made his statement.

“Yeah, well, she’s been trying to get in your pants since you joined the force. No way she’d say anything to upset you.”

“Jealous?”

“Oh for… the point is that you’re too injured to carry on with this.”

“I’m in better condition that some officers have been in when they’ve continued doing their duty. I expect no less of myself. Besides, all I have to do is sit here and ask questions. Not really strenuous police work.”

John was getting a kick out of watching the verbal ping pong match.

“I can handle it, Scott.”

“Sure you can. But,” And now Anderson lowered his voice as though he were telling a secret but John could still hear every word. “If you get one more complaint of harassing witnesses, you know what’s going to happen. And this case is gonna be really public…”

Officer Cutler looked thoughtful for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Fine. But if you collapse on the floor from your injuries, I had nothing to do with any of this.”

“Agreed.”

The belligerent policeman walked past his partner, dropping the notepad and pen in his lap, then pushing the wheelchair a little further into the room with a shove as he passed, and practically slamming the door on his way out. Anderson winced a bit then gave a forced smile.

“Sorry ‘bout him. He can be…”

“An ass.” John offered.

“Yeah, that’s as good a description as any.” Anderson gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I think in this instance he’s a bit bummed that the suspect was dead when he got there and he’s trying to manufacture a new suspect to interrogate. He loves interrogations.”

“So, he’s an ass.” John reiterated. 

This time, Anderson gave a tired grin. “Yep.”

“Well, thanks for cutting in, but he’s not wrong about the fact that you look like crap. Are you sure that you should be out of bed?”

“The nurses didn’t protest to me dressing in my own clothes or asking to get a ride down here in the chair.”

“You seem to have the ear of every person in this place.” Mary pointed out.

“My mom used to work here.” Anderson admitted. “I practically grew up in this building and the older staff knows me well. Still, they wouldn’t do me favors if they thought it’d jeopardize my health.”

“So, about this interview…” John interrupted, trying to get things back on track.

Anderson closed his eyes briefly, then looked down at the pad and placed it on his leg as he began to scratch out notes and make new ones. His writing was awkward and he seemed to be struggling, partially from the strange position and partially due to the fact that John would bet anything that the man was usually right handed. He hoped that the deep knife wounds wouldn’t screw up the guy’s dominant arm permanently. After a few minutes, Anderson stopped and looked up at them.

“From what I see here, your statements indicate that the guy had every intention to kill both you and your son and you acted out of self-defense. It seems pretty clear cut to me. I think I got all we need from you and your son, sir. Let me know if there’s anything the Raton Police Department can do for you and your family.”

John shook his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” He placed the notepad by his side and slumped back into the chair a bit.

“Do you require assistance?” John turned to see that Cas had appeared in the room. He was holding a tray overfilled with food from the cafeteria.

Anderson looked up. “What? No, I’m okay. You assisted me enough. Thanks for that by the way. The whole ‘saving my life’ thing.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And thank you for helping my family.” John added.

Anderson just nodded.

Cas placed the try he’d been carrying down on the table and Dean immediately started digging through it looking for something to eat. John smiled at the sight. He was relieved to see his eldest son up and around and… well, just alive after all they’d been through. When he’d first woken up he’d been afraid that someone was going to inform him that he’d survived but that his son hadn’t. Luckily that hadn’t been the case. 

“So, we’re all alive and there’s no further sign of angels or demons?” John asked, continuing his thoughts from before Officer Cutler had barged into his room earlier.

“From what we can tell.” Mary informed him. “The angels haven’t shown up since the first day and there was only that one demon. Still, we try to keep to protected rooms and Cas accompanies anyone who leaves.”

“I’ve already been to your home and made certain that it is protected for when you are released from here.” Cas informed Anderson.

The officer looked up in surprise. “How do you know where I live?”

“It’s on record here from when you were admitted.” Dean provided. “We uh… told him to take a peek and go get that done.”

“Sorry for the invasion of privacy, but we figured that you’d value your life more.” Mary commented.

“No… I mean, yeah, you’re right.” Anderson nodded.

John chuckled. “This is all a lot to take in, huh?”

“I’m sure you felt the same when you were introduced to this all.”

The hunter thought back to that horrible night when he ran into Sammy’s nursery to find Dean dying on the floor, killed by a demon, and soon after met Cas and was forced to acknowledge that there were things out there that he’d never before imagined could’ve existed. “Yeah. Don’t know anyone who doesn’t get a crash course in this crap. ‘Course not everyone gets a trip to the ER right off the bat.”

“Hey, I was here anyway.”

John chuckled. “Well, for your own protection, we’ll give you our contact information so you can get a hold of us once we leave this place. Which hopefully will be in a few days.”

“And we should also give you numbers for a couple friends of ours, just in case you have questions or need help.” Mary added. 

“Probably should give him Bobby’s number.” Dean suggested around a mouthful of potato chips. “And Pastor Jim’s. You know, ‘cause of the whole angel thing.”

“Can we have Anderson over for dinner sometimes?” Sam asked.

Anderson laughed. “I’d love that, but I live a bit too far away. You do know that it’s a ten hour drive from my place to yours, right?”

“So? Cas can transport people in the blink of an eye.”

John rolled his eyes. “Sam, Cas isn’t public transportation.”

“But dad, he takes us places all the time.”

“Yes, for jobs.”

“And school.”

“Well yeah. But that’s just for your protection.”

“And to Uncle Bobby’s.” 

“Yes, and to Bobby’s.”

“And to Pastor Jim’s.”

John heard Dean snicker in the background. He let out a groan. “Fine. We use Cas for transportation a lot.” He admitted.

“I don’t mind.” Cas spoke up.

“The point is… damn it, I don’t even remember what my point is.” John leaned back in his bed.

“The point is,” Mary cut in. “That half the people in this room are injured and should be resting. Dean, take whatever food you plan on eating and head on back to your room with Sam, please. I’ll be in to check on you boys later.” Dean loaded up the tray with more than half the food and headed out with a kiss to his mom, a hug for John, and a wave to Anderson. Sam hugged and kissed both parents and hesitated briefly before carefully hugging the police officer as well. 

Once the boys had left, Castiel turned to Anderson. “Do you wish me to bring you back to your room before I return to Dean’s room?”

“Yeah, that’d be helpful. With the one hand, all I can do with the wheelchair is go in circles.” The man looked more than exhausted and John figured that if he didn’t get back to his hospital bed soon, he’d just fall asleep sitting up in the chair. As Cas stepped forwards to push Anderson from the room, the officer nodded to them. “I guess I’ll see you guys later, then. And don’t worry about anything pertaining to the case. I got it all under control.”

“Thank you.” Mary responded. “But remember to get rest and heal up.”

“Trust me, I will. Just got to turn in these notes to the next coworker that stops by and tell them to pass it into the right hands. Then I’ll sleep for the next two weeks.”

John snorted. “Sounds like a damned good plan.” And it really did. As Cas and Anderson left, the hunter reflected on the fact that despite the fact that he’d apparently been unconscious for quite some time, he felt very tired. He turned his attention to his wife. “I slept through quite a bit, huh?”

“Yeah. But right now you just need to think about getting better.”

“And yet all I can think about is the fact that Dean almost died.”

“And so did you. Yet you saved him.”

“He helped. I’d never have gotten close enough to have gotten the gun if he hadn’t stabbed that guy.”

“You two make quite the team.”

“I guess we do.” John allowed.

“Just don’t ever do that again.” Mary scolded him.

“Trust me, if it’s avoidable, I’ll avoid it.”

“Yet when are things like this ever avoidable in our lives?”

John had to admit that she was right. But he could only hope and pray that his family would be given time to recover before something else struck them down again.


	120. Plans for the New Future

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: Plans for the New Future

With Cas sitting on one end of the bed, the journal lying open and some loose notes scattered around it, and Dean’s huge poster-board timeline spread out over the top of the sheets, there wasn’t much room for the young hunter to make himself comfortable as he twirled the Sharpie marker in his right hand. Dean sighed and looked back at the work-in-progress. 

Some of it was speculative stuff about the demons and angels and their plans for the apocalypse and crap like that. That stuff was dated from 1983 and went on to 2012 and was all marked in red. He’d circled stuff that had happened and crossed out events they’d prevented. It was confusing as all hell to look at and only him and Cas had a clue as to what any of it meant… not that he’d let anyone else look at it anyway. He’d just added in the events at the hospital, including putting Michael down with a big question mark. After a moment, he added Anderson’s name to the chart. He had no clue what was up with his family’s new friend, but anyone who could perceive an angel’s true form was certainly a step away from normal.

That done, he traded his red marker in for the black one and looked at the rest of the chart. The rest was filled with regular hunts that they’d have to take or had already gone on. Stuff he’d known about and deaths that they could prevent. Dean smiled as he saw Shtriga with a black line through it. When the time had come for that case, they’d gotten into town, gone to the first victim’s house, laid in wait, and Dean had been the one to pull the trigger and kill the damn thing before it harmed that kid. Sammy had never even been near the danger. He still felt guilty about the events that he’d allowed to happen in the original timeline, but he was relieved to know that it wouldn’t happen again. He moved his gaze to his future to-do list. Madison. He knew when she’d be turned and was going to prevent it so that she wouldn’t have to go through all of that and have to be killed for being a werewolf. But that was still a long ways off. There were a bunch of salt and burns and dates that they needed to be handled before the spirits would claim a victim. Some were crossed off, some weren’t yet. Dean and Cas were careful with making the list because, according to the angel, certain people _could not_ be saved. If it was their time, it was their time. Dean didn’t get how for some, it was their time, but for others, they could be saved; but Cas seemed to have a feel for the timeline and Dean trusted him even though he hated the idea of allowing anyone to die. But Cas had informed him that saving the life of a person meant to die could have disastrous consequences, and sometimes could even attract the attention of Fate. With a capital ‘F’. Which Dean knew would _not_ be a good thing at all. He’d questioned the angel on whether Fate would come after them for all they’d done so far, but Cas had assured him that what they’d done had been done with his Father’s blessings or they’d never have gotten this far. Dean wondered how he could be so certain, but it was enough for the boy that his friend was.

“Well, unless something unexpected pops up, looks like we only got one salt and burn left this summer.” Dean announced “So, plenty of time to heal up.” 

“Do you wish to put this away for now?”

“Nah, we still got a bunch of stuff from further down the timeline that we should add on. Nothing else to do right now.”

“We could…”

“I’m not challenging you to video games again, Cas. With my arm in this damned cast, you can actually beat me right now. And I’m not having you go around with that stupid, smug look for two days in a row.”

“That was not what I was going to suggest.”

“Sure it wasn’t.” Dean rolled his eyes. “So, do we wanna look at the stuff that my dad and I handled when I was in my later teen years or you wanna jump ahead to my hunting days with Sammy?”

The angel looked at the poster board and got the look on his face that he always seemed to get when he was about to suggest something that Dean wasn’t going to want to hear. “There is someone that we can save that isn’t on this list.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re doing this.” Dean confirmed slowly. “So what’s this person’s name, what’re we saving them from, and when?”

“Bela Talbot.” 

“No.”

“No?”

“If you’re talking about her whole making a deal thing; no. She knew what she was getting into and she made the deal.”

“She was a child, Dean. What child really understands what it means to sell their soul?”

Dean rolled his eyes again. “Okay, sure. But still, the greedy little bitch did it to kill her parents, Cas. Seriously, how screwed up is that? And you’re telling me she deserves to be saved?” The small hunter sighed. “Well, I guess if we stop the deal her parents get to live. At least _they_ deserve to be saved.”

“No Dean, they don’t.”

Dean was about to question what he meant but then he snapped his mouth shut as he realized what an idiot he’d been all those years ago. He’d judged Bela by what he’d known of her (and yeah, she was a greedy bitch that was more than willing to sell them out) but why had he assumed that that had been her motives at fourteen. Really, little girls didn’t kill their parents for the inheritance. They’d usually do it when they were old enough to collect without waiting. At that age there was probably a more desperate reason for a child to want her parents gone. And if he really thought about it, Bela’s tone was just a bit off when she’d spoken of her deal…

“Then _we_ take care of her issue. And I say we don’t wait until she’s fourteen.” There was an edge to Dean’s voice as he spoke.

Cas shook his head sadly. “No. She needs to become who she’ll become. Only the deal can be stopped.” The angel took the red marker, since it was a demon related event, and wrote Bela’s name down along with the date and place on Dean’s chart.

“This whole thing makes me sick, Cas.”

“Bad things still happen, Dean. We can’t prevent them all. Look at your own life.”

“Yeah, but I get Dad and Mom and Sammy and you. I get this house and a somewhat normal life to go along with all the hunting crap.”

“You didn’t always.”

Dean let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s kinda weird when I stop and compare this life to what I lived the first time around.” He got up and stretched, wincing at the aches and pains in his body. “I mean, aside from the fact that I’m a target for Heaven and Hell years before I ever was that time, this is pretty much awesome.” 

Dean made his way over to his window and peeked out from between a small spot in his closed curtains. He was relieved to see no news crews camped out outside. Since getting home, there had always been at least one reporter out there wanting to get a statement from him or his family about his abduction. The worst part was that his mom had forbidden him from flipping them off. It was a good sign that they seemed to have given up. Maybe this whole thing would blow over before school started. It was going to suck enough that he was going to be starting high school as a twelve year old and the absolute smallest kid in the entire building, but to have news crews trying to follow him around as well would make the whole thing a complete Hell-fest. ‘Course even if it came to that, Dean would make the best of it. He’d been through worst. And now he was seeing a light at the end of the whole school tunnel. Four more years. Less if he could convince his parents to let him take classes that had extra credits and he could get the whole thing over with early. But what to do next?

There was no way that he was going off to some fancy-ass college somewhere. Not his scene. Besides, he was definitely going to stay close to home. Still, his dad and mom kept talking about him having some kind of life outside of hunting and from what he saw from his dad, it could actually work. So maybe not a big time college, but maybe a technical or trade school or some place where he could get a degree in mechanics. He’d already told his dad all the right places to invest in in the coming years and even without a ton of cash to do that with, Dean could envision using those earning to open their own auto repair shop some day. Two family businesses. How about that?

The boy shook his head. When had he seriously started considering a future for himself?

“Is everything alright, Dean?”

Dean turned to find the angel standing looking down at him. “Yeah, Cas.”

“Are you certain? You seemed…”

“I was just thinking. About everything. And… and I don’t think I ever…” He sighed. Man, he just sucked at this stuff. But it needed to be done. More than that, he _wanted_ to express this to Cas. So he stepped forward and threw his good arm around his friend. “Thanks Cas. For everything you’ve done. I wouldn’t have any of this without you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m pleased that you’re happy.”

“You’re happy too, right Cas? I mean, I know I asked you that years ago, but with everything that’s…”

“I told you then Dean that being with your family is like having my own.”

“Well, you’re family, Cas.” Dean stepped back and shrugged his right shoulder. “And speaking of, if there’s anything you want to add to that list; any person, quests or anything, just name it.”

“Anna. We need to retrieve her grace before anyone else does. We just have to figure out how to do it without attracting attention. And I wouldn’t mind just making certain at some point that she’s alright.”

“Not a problem. It would probably put her at risk for us to visit her ourselves, but with my family’s connections, we’ll get it covered.”

With a smile, Dean walked back over and hopped back onto the bed. He snatched up the marker to make a new note. Yeah, some of the crap that had gone on lately had really sucked and high school was gonna suck more, but if he seriously thought about, life was damned good.


	121. Remember Back When…

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One: Remember Back When… 

“Please tell me you’re not here on business.”

Dean turned his head and grinned as he saw Emily approaching the jungle-gym that he was currently perched atop of. It was late, past closing time for the playground, and probably later than either of their sets of parents wanted them out. But his parents reluctantly accepted that he was twelve but also thirty and allowed him out (with an invisible angel chaperone) and he was certain that Emily had probably snuck out her bedroom window again. She’d admitted that she did it often when she wanted to clear her head or just get some air. Either way, it was good to see a friendly face. Dean hadn’t seen her since that day that he’d been kidnapped. At first, her mom had kept her away because of the reporters around the Winchester house and then her family had gone on an extended vacation. Sure they’d talked on the phone after he’d gotten home, but he hadn’t laid eyes on her since pushing her out of the way of the car that had been speeding towards them back in June. Now, it was just a couple of days before school was to start up and it seemed that both of them had decided to come to the ‘brooding spot’ to deal with the idea of that. 

“Nah, I’m still on light duty.” Dean commented, lifting his left hand that was sporting a wrist brace. A long, angry scar ran the length of his arm, disappearing into the brace from where they’d had to open him up and insert pins, screws, plates, and all sorts of other metal crap to hold his bones together. The limb was still stiff and somewhat painful but damn it felt good to have the big, clunky plaster cast off. But physical therapy sucked out loud. 

“Oh good. Any time I see you lurking around outside on the full moon I get a bit nervous and start to keep an ear out for any howling.”

“No werewolves in Lawrence.”

“Good to know.”

“Now vampires on the other hand…”

“What?”

“Just kidding.”

“You are such a dork!” Emily declared climbing up next to him. A couple months from turning fifteen, and after obviously hitting a summer growth spurt, she was now quite a bit taller than Dean. The girl looked down at her friend. “How’d you climb up here with that gimp arm?”

“You’d be surprised the amount of experience I have doing crap harder than this with injuries far worse than a busted arm.”

“Every time I talk with you my nightmares get more fuel.”

“You’re welcome.”

“If you didn’t already look like hell, I’d push you off this jungle-gym.”

Dean looked himself over. “I don’t look like hell.” He protested.

“Really? What _is_ your definition of hell?” 

Images of hooks, knives, blood, fire, and Alastair ran through his head but Dean shook it off as quickly as it popped into being. “I’ll let you know in a couple of days when school starts. Then I’ll have a much more accurate picture.”

Emily chuckled. “Oh c’mon. It’s not going to be _that_ bad.”

“Really? Look at me! I’m going to be tripped over by even the shortest freshmen.”

His friend laughed. “You’re not that short, Dean.”

“Fine, but still… I’m going to be one of the smallest kids there and certainly the youngest.”

“But you’ll be the smartest kid there by far.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna have to take crap from douche-bags twice my height and I’m not even allowed to shoot them.”

Emily giggled. “Oh my god, you are such a dork.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“No, but it’s true.” She sighed. “What else is bugging you, Dean?”

“The whole kidnapping thing was all over the news. It’s not enough that I’m going to be the talk of the school because I skipped two years and everyone thinks I’m some sort of genius, but I’m sure that everyone has heard about ‘poor Dean Winchester’ being hit by a freakin’ car and dragged off to be tortured by a serial killer.”

“Well, the story was pretty big.” Emily admitted. “But your actions were totally heroic, what with pushing me out of the way of the car and all. Thanks again for that. Besides, maybe people will stay out of your way figuring that you’ve gotta be one tough guy to have survived all that.”

Dean shrugged. “Either way, I prefer to stay under the radar.”

“Well, a bit late for that. But you’ll probably take second place in the hot topic department since everyone will be talking about the whole ‘Rob Grayson incident’.”

“The what?”

Emily’s eyes widened. “You didn’t hear? It’s all over the news.”

“We haven’t watched the news much.” After hearing their names, Anderson’s name, and the public parts of the story a few times over it was decided that the news would not be shown in the Winchester household until the whole thing blew over. 

“You know that kid in our grade, Rob? Bit of a bully, something not quite right with him?” Dean nodded. He knew Rob. He hadn’t spoken to the boy since the other kid was six years old and they’d been at a birthday party together. Rob had been a bully back then too, but that was a bit overshadowed by the rest of the day’s events when Rob’s dad had become possessed by Alastair. “Well, apparently Rob set fire to his parent’s house.”

“What?”

“Yeah. No one was seriously hurt and the house wasn’t too badly damaged. His parents are defending him, saying that he woke up from a nightmare or something and didn’t know what he was doing. They’re saying he needs counseling, not to be prosecuted for arson. I think he’s even going to be allowed to start high school on Wednesday so long as there’s no further incidents.”

“A nightmare? Did they say anything more about that?” Dean questioned.

“What? No. But everyone knows that he’s weird and mean.”

“Yeah, and everyone knows that I’m weird.” Dean shot back. “Can’t really defend the whole mean thing, though. The kid was born an asshole.”

“You’re saying there’s a reason he’s a flake?”

“A very good one. I just don’t know if this whole pyro thing is trauma from back then or something all new.” Dean sighed. “Do you know where he’s staying?”

“Well, it wasn’t on the news or anything, but I’d assume he’d stay with his cousin’s family. They live pretty close by, I think.”

Dean groaned. Of course they’d go back to the house where that whole thing started. That was probably doing wonders for the family’s state of mind. And it was gonna suck that Dean would have to go there to make certain that nothing was going on. 

The young hunter hopped down off the jungle-gym and landed on the wood chips that covered the ground. “Well, it was great to see you again, but I gotta go.”

“You’re not going over there, are you?”

“Guess I do have a job tonight.”

“Thought you were on light duty?”

“This seems like a light duty kinda job. Just need to go talk with a kid.”

Emily jumped down next to him. “A kid that’s a bully and unstable and just set fire to his parents’ house.”

“Still light duty for me.”

She seemed torn for a moment. “You… you shouldn’t go alone…”

Dean appreciated the unspoken offer but there was no way that he was letting her anywhere near this. “I won’t be. I got a guardian angel, remember?”

“Okay… but you better be alive when we start school on Wednesday because everyone else in that whole building is just plain lame.”

“You don’t know that for sure. New school, new dumbasses to meet.”

“Just stay alive, okay?”

“Yep.”

Dean started off out of the playground. Damn. And he’d really wanted an evening to just relax.

“I assume you heard all that, Cas.”

“Yes.”

“You know, it’s gonna be really awkward when I’m old enough to date and you’re still following me around, watching my every move and listening to every word.”

“I would assume that by that time your parents would not require me to be with you all the time.”

“Well, if you are, you’re staying the hell out of any bedrooms, got it?” Dean thought it over. “’Course I’m not gonna date for a very long time. I’d feel like a pedophile going with anyone not of legal age and the older girls would feel the same about me. Damn, puberty is gonna suck.” He looked over at where the angel had appeared besides him. “And I’m not sure why I’m discussing this with you. So, changing the topic to something not completely uncomfortable, what do you think about this whole thing? You think it’s a demon thing or just a kid screwed up from a past demon thing?”

“Impossible to tell until we get there. But I do think we should tell your parents.”

“Hell no. We tell them and there’s no way they’ll let me anywhere near that place. And I doubt Rob’s gonna open up and talk with my dad. He might not even talk with me, but I gotta give it a shot.”

Castiel nodded. “You have a point.”

“I always do.”

“It’s just not always a good one.”

Dean looked up to see Cas smiling. “Funny.” Then Dean sighed. “But while we’re on the subject of ‘good ones’, is this a good idea? Going to talk to this kid?”

“No. But it needs to be done.”

The young hunter nodded. “Okay. Just so long as we’re both on the same page.”

Not another word was spoken for the rest of the short walk to the house that Dean had confronted Alastair in almost eight years ago. When they reached the front gate, the boy exchanged a look with Cas. The angel shook his head. He’d sensed nothing from inside. Dean reached for the latch to open the white, wooden gate but then a movement from the backyard caught his eye. The small hunter squinted in the poor lighting and saw a young teen moving toward an old swing set. 

“Stealth mode.” Dean ordered Cas in a whisper as he circled around the fence to get a better look. Once he was closer he could tell that the teen was too tall and wide to be Mark, so Dean knew that it had to be Rob. At one point, there were a few pickets missing from the fence and Rob caught sight of him.

“Hey! Who are you? What are you doing here?” The teen jumped off the swing and rushed at Dean, pulling a switchblade from his pocket.

Dean didn’t move from his spot. He could tell that Rob was trying to defend himself, not threatening him to be an ass like he did to kids at school. So he figured that if he didn’t act threatening, the kid would back off. Besides, even with his left arm in a brace, he could easily take this guy.

“Take it easy. It’s just me, Dean.”

Rob stopped a couple of feet away and shoved the knife back in his pocket. “Dean Winchester? What the hell are you doing here?”

Dean shrugged. “Out for a walk.”

“Around my uncle’s fence?”

“Exercise is exercise no matter where you get it.”

Rob let out a laugh. “I heard you’d grown to be a wiseass.”

“The rumors are true.”

“That why you’re here? To check out rumors? See if I was gonna burn down this house too?”

“Not exactly.” Dean answered.

“Yeah.” Rob snorted. Then he looked Dean over. “Well, looks like life hates both of us. And it all started at the damned party of Mark’s.”

“What do you mean?”

Rob’s eyes widened. “What do you mean ‘what do you mean’? You got your arm broke and thrown out the window and I caught the blame. And my dad… You do remember that, right?”

Dean nodded. “Hard to forget. But you’ll forgive me now for saying that that’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Yeah, I saw the news. Tough break.”

“What about you? Have things been normal since then?”

Rob looked at him. “I thought so. I mean, I was freaked so bad at first and my dad was saying that he didn’t really remember much of what happened, but he didn’t do the freaky eye thing anymore so I figured that he was possessed by a ghost or something. That stuff is real, you know. And so after a while things just got back to normal. Until recently.”

“What happened recently?” Dean asked. “Did your dad’s eyes do the white thing again?”

“No. No this time it was my mom. And her eyes weren’t white, they were black.”


	122. Black Eyes

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two: Black Eyes 

“Black eyes? You’re sure?”

“Not exactly something I’d forget. And I know it sounds crazy but I figured after what we both saw at that party all those years ago that you’d maybe believe me.”

“No, I do.” Dean insisted. “But that doesn’t explain why you tried to burn your house down. Unless it was the…” He stopped himself right before he said the word ‘demon’. “Uh, your mom.”

Rob sighed and visibly sagged. “Come on in and sit down if you really want to have this talk.” He turned and walked back to the swing set.

Dean hesitated. He could feel Cas’ presence behind him, which provided comfort, but his mind was screaming at him that the last time he’d set foot on this property things hadn’t ended very well. Furthermore, Alastair and chains did not mix well and Rob was expecting him to sit down on the swings. Damn it all. Oh well, he wasn’t a fearless, tough-ass hunter for nothing.

“Keep on guard.” He muttered under his breath to Cas as he slipped into the yard and crossed over to where the teenage boy sat. 

Once Dean was settled, Rob started in on his story. “I was out late that night at the park with Tina Jordan, and we were… you know, making out and stuff. And she took a can of beer from her parent’s fridge and we were gonna drink it but then an old couple came walking down the path and Tina freaked that we’d get caught and she tossed the can in the trash can and we didn’t take it back out after because the garbage in it was gross. I only tell you this because I want you to know that I wasn’t drunk or anything when I got home. But anyway, I thought for sure that she’d let me get you know, far with her, so we stayed out really late and I didn’t get home until after midnight. No matter what anyone says, I wasn’t sleeping. I didn’t dream anything that night.” Dean nodded to show that he still believed the other boy and that Rob didn’t have to be so defensive. “So I got home and went in the back way because I figured I wouldn’t wake anyone that way. I went upstairs and didn’t turn on any lights and took off my shoes and then I heard my mom clear her throat. So I flipped on the lights and turned around and was ready to explain that I’d been out with Billy or something like that because she’d freak if she knew that I’d been with a girl, she doesn’t realize I’m almost fifteen, but then her eyes… they turned black. She had black eyes. I was scared, I mean obviously because anyone in their right mind would be and I didn’t have my knife on me but I did have my lighter. I take it with me everywhere because you never know when you might get an opportunity to sneak a smoke, you know? So I pulled it out and lit it up, thinking that fire might scare it, not that I wanted to hurt my mom, but after what happened with my dad and all I’d read up on ghosts and ghost possession and some theories say that you can burn ghosts or something, although I don’t know how that’d work. I just figured that maybe it’d get scared and leave my mom before I ended up broken like you did. No offence, kid.” Dean shrugged and Rob continued on with his rambling. “But she just laughed and pulled the lighter from my hand and told me that I really shouldn’t play with fire and threw it down and my papers on my floor started to burn. And that’s how the fire really started.”

Dean nodded. “So what happened next? Did she say anything more?”

“Yeah. She talked about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Wanted to know if I’d had any contact with you since that party and when I said no she said that it was too bad because she had an offer that couldn’t be refused.”

“You didn’t make any deals, did you?” Dean asked.

“No, but I got the feeling that the offer was for you, not me anyways. Which makes me wonder what the heck you’re involved in, Dean.”

“Well, you weren’t too far off the mark when you mentioned that life hates us. But let me assure you that it hates me way more.”

Rob looked him over again and laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. What happened back then must’ve sucked more for you than for me, and now you got kidnapped and tortured and you live through that just to become a target for whatever this is. I guess I should feel lucky that I just get freaked out by my parents having weird eyes and threatening me. Oh and the whole issue of the town thinking I’m a pyromaniac and a freak.”

“Well, you don’t help that rep by being an ass at school.” Dean shrugged. 

Rob’s face darkened but then he returned Dean’s shrug. “Suppose you’re right. But we all got our issues.”

“True enough.” Dean allowed. “Look, if anything like that happens again, don’t say anything about this talk for your own safety. The more you know, the more danger you’d probably be in.”

“Sounds good to me. You want me to let you know about it afterwards?”

“Yeah, but wait long enough to make it not look suspicious. Maybe drop me a note in school or something inconspicuous like that.”

“A note in school? What are we? Teenage girls?” Rob scoffed.

“Well, maybe you are…” Dean grinned to show that he was only kidding.

“You know, I kind of like you, Dean. Used to think you were a geeky little baby bitch, but you’re okay.”

“Gee, thanks. I’m overwhelmed by the compliment.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Look I better get home. Good luck with everything.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Dean walked out of the yard and ducked through the hole in the fence. As he made his way back down the road and toward his own home, Cas appeared beside him again. 

“Well, what do you think?”

“Unusual.”

“Yep. I mean, a demon confronts a guy I casually knew years ago to see if he still talks with me and, when he says no, it leaves him alone? What the hell?”

“Well, torturing the boy for information he didn’t have would be useless.” Cas pointed out.

“True but that’s never stopped them before. And the last time a demon went after someone we knew to try to get to us, he ended up almost bleeding to death and would’ve been a goner if it wasn’t for you. Rob should’ve been gutted just on principle.”

“Unless the demon wanted him to pass the message along to you eventually.”

“The message that they want to make a deal I can’t refuse? Well, all they seem to want to do is torture me, so I think I can refuse that.”

The angel seemed deep in thought for a moment. “What if this is a new player. That would explain the quiet method of getting a message to you.”

“You call burning a house down quiet?”

“Quieter than most of their methods.”

“Okay, you got me there.” Dean acknowledged. “So, a new player. Okay, but who and to what end?” Then it hit him and he stopped walking and spun to face Cas. “You don’t think… I mean, Rob mentioned an offer or deal or something and Crowley _would_ be the king of the crossroads right now.”

“The demon Rob mentioned had black eyes. Crowley’s are red.”

“And Crowley is far too self-important to go harass some teenage boy for information himself.” Dean mentioned. 

“This is all just speculation, Dean. I mean why would Crowley be interested in you?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? I mean, this is a brand new world we made here, Cas. But some of the players and rules haven’t changed. Crowley would still be a power hungry ass and he’d still be waiting for an opportunity to strike. He’s gotta have heard about everything going on and maybe he wants to make a move.”

“Maybe.”

“It makes more sense than anything else. If it was a demon connected with Alastair, it would’ve taken a more direct approach. Hell, Alastair himself might’ve possessed the father again just to have some sadistic ‘fun’.”

“If it is Crowley…”

“We do nothing. I’m not approaching him at all yet. We know he’s a tricky son of a bitch and I want to know more about what he’s planning before I do a damned thing.”

Cas nodded his agreement. “We need to remain alert though. Crowley won’t just back down.”

“No, he won’t.”

“But he will have to avoid being noticed by any other demons.”

“Great. Now we need to be thinking about Hell’s politics. I knew I should’ve just stayed inside tonight.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

The playground had been quiet since Dean had left, and Emily grew tired of hanging upside down from the monkey bars and worrying about what might be happening to her friend. She’d been tempted to follow Dean but truthfully was a bit nervous. The last time she’d seen his world, it had been scary beyond belief and it wasn’t something that she was looking forward to seeing again. And Dean’s reactions tonight had made her think that this had the potential to be _that_ bad.

The girl dropped down to the ground and stared walking towards the gate, kicking up woodchips along the way. She knew that Dean wouldn’t be able to call her house and let her know that he was okay until at least tomorrow morning, which would make tonight seem to take forever. But it still wouldn’t be as bad as those nights after he was taken and she’d lie awake wondering if he was even still alive or if demons were killing him right at that moment.

“Excuse me miss, but this playground is closed.”

Emily looked up to see a young woman in a police uniform standing right outside the exit, looking down at her. She put on her sweetest smile. “I lost track of time, but I’m leaving now.”

“Are you here alone?”

Emily hesitated. She didn’t want to admit that she was, that was just a huge announcement that she was vulnerable, but the policewoman could obviously see that no one was with her. “Yeah. But I don’t live far and my parents are expecting me home.”

“Was anyone else out here earlier?”

“Why do you ask?”

“We’re having issues with vandalism.”

Emily shrugged. “Everything looked fine to me. But no, no one else was out here. Just me.”

“So you didn’t meet with Dean Winchester?”

Emily felt the blood drain from her face and her heart rate pick up. She swallowed. “Who?”

The policewoman smiled a nasty grin. “Oh you know, that cute little kid that’s been all over the news lately? Pushed you out of the way of a moving vehicle if I recall correctly. He wasn’t out here, was he?”

“What are you?” Emily asked.

“Oh, a smart girl. I see you do know him well.” The policewoman’s eyes turned black.

Emily stepped back and looked around to see if there was a way to escape. There wasn’t. The entire playground was fenced in with only one gate. It was for safety reasons, but now it only served to trap the girl in the relatively small area with a demon and no help.


	123. Hellish Encounters

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three: Hellish Encounters 

“There’s nowhere to go little girl.”

The demon’s words echoed Emily’s thoughts and she felt the panic rising in her to the point where she thought she’d burst. How did Dean face these things down on a regular basis and remain sane?

“What do you want?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“He’s not here.”

“I can see that.”

“So, get lost.” Emily narrowed her eyes, channeling Dean’s attitude and hoping that she sounded even half as tough as he did.

The demon laughed. “So not just smart but brave too. Definitely a friend of Winchester’s. You should really pick your friends better.”

“I like my friend just fine, thank you.”

“The only problem with your tough act is that I can smell the fear on you. It’s delicious.”

“Ewww.” Emily made a face before she could stop herself. Upsetting this demon would probably get her killed. On the other hand, it wasn’t likely that the thing was just going to let her go.

“You think it’ll catch Dean’s attention when he finds your dead body hanging from the monkey bars?”

“Or you could just send him a letter.” She suggested with a shrug. 

“Or you could just grow a spine and give me the message to my face, bitch.”

The demon spun around, moving slightly to the side as she did so and Emily caught a glimpse of her friend standing just outside the gate to the playground, a wicked looking knife clutched in his hand. She’d never been so happy to see anyone before in her entire life. 

She stepped backwards, further away from the demon, so as not to become a hostage or anything and bumped into something. Emily looked up. Not something but someone. Cas. The angel laid a hand on her shoulder and suddenly she felt the world shift and then she was standing a few feet behind Dean. Well, that was safer. And for the first time since the whole thing had begun, Emily felt like she could breathe right again. 

“Dean Winchester. Why don’t you put down the knife and give yourself up. You can’t possibly think that you can take me out, even with your magically transporting friend.”

“Oh I can take you out alright. But I thought you wanted to make a deal or some lame crap like that.”

“A deal?” The demon lady raised an eyebrow. “Now where would you get an idea like that? See, most of us have backed off. Watch and wait. That’s our orders. But there are quite a few that have had enough and are willing to take a risk and go after the infamous little brat that’s caused so much trouble. Do you know what the reward would be if I brought you in to Alastair?”

“Do you know what happened to the last demon that thought that way?” Dean shot back.

Emily had no clue what they were talking about and considered turning and running home but part of her really wanted to see what was going to happen. She also needed to make certain that Dean was going to be alright.

“No but I’m…”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the tough ass bitch of the year and you’re gonna be the one to do what no demon has done before.” Dean shook his head. “All of you are delusional. But just so we’re clear, you wouldn’t have happened to have been harassing Rob Grayson, were you?”

“Who?”

“No one important. And you haven’t heard about any demons wanting to make any deals with me, have you?”

“No one would deal with a Winchester.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Thanks. You can die now.”

Emily barely even saw him move. One moment her friend was standing there, the next he’d darted forward and was seconds away from plunging his knife into the demon. Unfortunately the possessed policewoman waved her hand and threw Dean into the side of the jungle gym without even touching him. Emily had seen this kind of power before; that awful Halloween night when she’d encountered Lilith and thought for sure that she’d be killed. Dean had been hurt that night and she prayed that he wouldn’t be badly injured or killed now. 

Suddenly Cas was no longer behind her but alongside the demon. The woman saw him and pulled out her sidearm. The angel reached into his coat and produced a silver blade. The demon’s eyes widened.

“How… where did you get one of those?”

“You’d be surprised what you can find at the local thrift shops.” Dean commented. 

Emily’s gaze found her friend just as the demon turned around to face him. Apparently she’d been so busy confronting Cas that she hadn’t concentrated on holding him in place and Dean was now only half a foot away from her. A second later, he stabbed her in the stomach with his knife. 

Emily saw a strange light flashing inside the demon’s stolen body but then she turned away, not wanting to see any more. This was all a bit much. A minute later, a hand touched her arm and even though she knew from the size of it that it had to be Dean, she still jumped and almost let out a yell.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m a bit freaked out, but she didn’t hurt me.”

“Good. I mean, you know, about the whole not being hurt part.” 

Emily turned to face him and offered a smile. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Luckily I didn’t hit my bad arm or anything. Just smacked my head. Not like there’s anything to damage in there, right?” He laughed. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home while Cas is taking care of the body.”

“Nice timing, by the way. How’d you know?”

Dean shrugged. “I didn’t. I just… I wanted to let you know that everything had gone alright at Rob’s and to let you know that it was a demon thing so to watch out. Apparently the demon was trying to get my attention through him.”

“Well, from what I heard, this was a different one?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, guess I’m popular in Hell’s social circles.”

“You better watch your back.”

Dean nodded. “And I gotta call everyone I know and put the word out for them to watch out too. Man, starting high school _and_ worrying about demon attacks. Life _does_ hate me.”

Emily smiled a somewhat shaky smile. “Maybe, but it seems that that’s the way your life’s been for quite a while. Haven’t you gotten used to it?”

“The demons, yeah. But I’m still bitching about starting high school soon.”

This time Emily gave a full smile. “Anyone ever tell you that your sense of priorities is screwed up?” 

“That’s common knowledge.”

When they reached her house, Emily gave her friend a quick hug, noticing how much shorter he seemed now that she’d hit a couple of growth spurts over the summer. She hoped that Dean got a few of his own soon because, despite her reassurances to the contrary, she knew that he’d be teased mercilessly for his lack of height by their schoolmates. And also for his genius status but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. Of course, all it would take is for him to give them his patented ‘Dean Winchester glare’ and he could get even the toughest bullies to reconsider picking on him, but whether or not he’d do it would be a whole other story. She knew that his parents encouraged him to blend in and not make noise, and a twelve year old staring down an eighteen year old that was twice his height wasn’t exactly what one would call lying low. But Dean could probably take all the required courses and get all the credits that he needed in three years instead of the usual four and then move onto bigger and better things than this small, crappy (and apparently demon infested) town. 

“See you in school on Wednesday.” She called, keeping her voice down as she started towards the side of her house where she’d scale the wall to reach her bedroom window.

“You mean Hell.” He replied.

“Fine. See you in Hell on Wednesday.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean waved goodbye to Sam as he dropped him off in front of the elementary school and then turned to walk off down the sidewalk. He couldn’t believe that he was actually going to miss taking his shortcut over the fence and to the middle school. But now he had to go all the way to the high school which would normally be a fifteen minute walk. Of course he planned on having Cas transport him directly there as soon as there was no one in sight. Which was exactly what happened three minutes later when Dean ducked down an alley and took a quick glance around to make sure that he was alone.

“Okay Cas, Let’s go.”

Then he was in another alley. One that was only a half a block away from the high school but was a through-way, not a dead end. He didn’t want any unanswerable questions asked if anyone saw him exiting from there. 

With a sigh, Dean finished the walk to his new school. With the time difference between when Sam’s classes started and his, he’d arrived about twenty minutes early. Not that big a deal and if he walked slower next time maybe he could cut that time down a bit. 

When he reached the school grounds, he looked around, hoping to catch sight of Emily. Dean felt a bit ridiculous wanting to hide behind a girl on his first day of school, but that fact was that he’d be less a target if he didn’t walk into the building alone. There was no sign of his only non-hunter friend, however. So, the boy adjusted his backpack on his right shoulder and started up the front steps. 

“Hey shrimp! I think you got the wrong school! Kindergarten is in the elementary school back down the street!”

The call was followed by a chorus of laughter. Dean rolled his eyes and kept walking. 

“Hey, did you hear me, baby? I’m talking to you.”

Dean continued on his way until a hand clasped on his shoulder and spun him around. The small hunter was facing a teenager’s stomach. The teen, dressed in a football jersey, probably thought that he was well-built but Dean could see that he was more pudge than muscle. A small crowd of kids gathered around the teenager, none quite as tall, but all bigger than Dean. 

Dean shook the guy’s hand off and took a step back. Still though, he remained silent.

“Yo, little freak, do you know how to talk? Or are you too young to have learned how yet?”

Finally Dean let out a sigh. “Just have nothing to say to you.”

“Yeah well, when I tell you to speak, you speak, got it?”

“Why?”

“You talking back?”

“Isn’t that what you just asked me to do?” Dean questioned with a smirk.

“Oh the baby thinks he’s funny?”

“First off, I’m not a baby. Second off, I don’t _think_ I’m funny, I know I am. And third off, you’re what? A senior, I’m guessing. Or maybe you just stayed back a lot.” Dean shrugged. “Either way, you really should have better things to do than pick on incoming freshmen that want nothing to do with your lame-ass games. So, I’m going to go on my way and pretend that this pathetic encounter never happened and I suggest that everyone here do the same.”

Dean turned and started into the building but had only taken two steps when he felt the same hand land on his shoulder yet again. He stopped walking and sighed. Yep, he’d been right. This was going to be Hell.


	124. High School Isn’t Life or Death

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Four: High School Isn’t Life or Death 

Dean was spun back around and roughly shoved to the ground. Damn. If he’d just made it inside the building it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much when his body made contact. Tile was far from soft, but it wasn’t quite as bad as concrete. Besides, if he were in the school, maybe an adult would be nearby to break up the fight. And while having an adult get involved was kind of a douchey move, it would save him from this confrontation. Especially since Dean had promised his parents to try and keep low profile and stay out of trouble, and getting into a fight on the first day of school before the bell even rang didn’t really meet those qualifications. 

“Gonna cry, baby?” The older boy taunted.

“Jay, maybe you should leave him alone.” A pretty girl in a cheerleader outfit suggested as she chewed on her gum. “He’s so small and already hurt.”

“You heard the way he talked to me, Krissy. Little kid thinks that just because they let him into our school early he’s the big man on campus now.”

“I was just trying to get to class. You’re the one that wanted to start something.” Dean pointed out.

“You need to learn your place, baby. And your place is right there, under my foot.” With that, Jay brought his sneaker down to step on Dean’s leg.

Dean lashed out and kicked him in the ankle, not too hard, just enough to get the teenager to back off so that he could scramble to his feet. The young hunter didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to hurt the kid, but on the other hand he wasn’t going to lie on the ground and get the crap beaten out of him either. He knew bullies and he knew that if he let himself become a target now, he’d remain a target for the next few years. And years of getting his ass handed to him did not sound appealing at all. He also didn’t want to leave that as the ‘Winchester Legacy’ of the school. Already teachers and other kids judged Sam by Dean’s reputation, expecting the younger brother to be just as bright as Dean always appeared to be. And Sam had been doing well living up to that, getting top marks and impressing everyone. So if Dean was known as a wimp and a target, what would that mean for Sam?

“Damn it!” Jay jumped back, hopping around and generally looking ridiculous.

Dean stood and made a move to get to the front door of the school. None of Jay’s crowd bothered to stop him so he figured that he might actually have a chance, but then a large meaty hand closed around the brace on his left wrist. Dean winced as pressure was applied to the still hurting limb and then he was jerked back by that arm. He couldn’t stop the small cry from escaping at the pain that radiated from his wrist and shot up his arm and down into his fingers. 

“Let go.” Dean growled out between clenched teeth.

“Or what?” Jay asked, bending over to look him in the eyes with an amused expression on his face.

Dean stepped forward and kneed him right in the crotch. Jay released his grip on the smaller boy’s wrist and the hunter grabbed a fistful of the teenager’s hair to drag the jerk’s head closer. Then Dean lowered his voice to a dangerous tone and kept it quiet enough that only Jay could hear.

“I know you saw the news reports about what happened to me. But there’s something important that they left out. When I was held captive, the killer stabbed me in the ribs with his knife. Afterwards, I pulled the weapon from my own body when he wasn’t paying attention and plunged the still bloody blade into his flesh. That’s what gave my dad the opportunity to save us. So now you tell me, am I really the kind of person that you want to mess with?”

With that, Dean twisted the handful of hair in his hand and then released the teenager. Jay stepped away from him and looked back. Dean stared him down with one of his deadliest looks. The older boy looked away first.

“Come on.” Jay announced, his voice shaking just a bit. “He’s not worth our time.”

Dean watched them walk off into the school, some of the kids glancing back to look at Dean curiously. He knew that there was no way that they believed that Jay had just lost interest in him, especially since they’d seen him bruise the guy’s balls and almost start him on the road to male pattern baldness a bit early in life. Of course what they didn’t know was that Dean could’ve done much worse if he’d been so inclined. But he’d promised his parents that he wouldn’t cause problems and if he caused Jay a trip to the nurse’s office, then he himself would get a trip to the principal’s office.

“So what was that all about?”

Dean turned to see Emily walking up towards him.

“You missed all the fun.” He informed her. “Some upperclassman thought that he could push me around.”

“Oh God… how many pieces is he in?”

“Oh c’mon, I’m not that bad. I was just gonna ignore him until he took the whole ‘pushing around’ thing literally. And then he made the mistake of grabbing my bad wrist.” At his friend’s worried look, he rushed to continue. “But everything’s fine. There was no big fight and no one was really injured. I just threatened the dude and made sure he believed me.”

“You gave him that scary look, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“How do you do that?”

Dean shrugged “Once you survive Hell, you can reflect it back at people. Scares the crap outta them.” Emily laughed and shook her head. Dean knew that she had no clue that he had meant Hell in the literal sense. “So, what homeroom are you in? I know we’re in the same Hall.”

The school was divided into three ‘Halls’; A, B, and C. A had blue painted lockers, B had brick red, and C had dark green. Students with last names beginning early in the alphabet had homeroom in A Hall, mid alphabet were in B, so of course Dean Winchester was in C. Emily’s last name was Sullivan so she would be in the same Hall but not the same homeroom. The Halls also indicated where to go for classes during the day. Math and sciences were in A, English and foreign languages were in B, history and social studies were in C. Electives were in the unnamed forth hall that didn’t hold any lockers. That section of the school was two stories tall. Off of the unnamed hall was another hall that led to the cafeteria, the gym, that auditorium, the library, the offices, and the front entrance. Dean had taken a tour of the school a couple weeks ago. It was actually the first official high school tour/orientation he’d ever attended. 

“Uh, I’m in C-2. You?”

“C-5.”

“This sucks that everything is alphabetically done.” Emily complained. 

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, but unless something’s going on we’re only gonna have homeroom once a week. Every other day we can hang out until the first class starts, so it’s not really a big deal.”

“Says you. Last time a teacher seated me alphabetically, I got placed in front of a boy that liked putting gum in my hair.” When Dean snickered, Emily punched him in the arm. “It’s not funny. I had to get four inches cut off of my hair!”

Dean’s response was cut off by a commotion from down the hall. A crowd of kids had gathered around and their voices were rising. Then someone yelled out.

“Go home freak!”

“No one wants you here!”

Dean tensed and was about to respond when the next kid spoke up.

“You gonna burn down this building too?”

Oh. They hadn’t been talking to him. Dean glanced around and saw Rob trying to make his way to A Hall. The hunter stepped forward but Emily stopped him.

“Don’t. You have enough problems on your own. Besides, I doubt Rob would appreciate a twelve year old coming to his rescue.”

She was right. Still, it wasn’t fair. Rob may be a first class ass of a bully, but he wasn’t a pyromaniac and hadn’t done the stuff they were accusing him of. And no one deserved to have to see both of their parents be possessed and have their home burned down. 

“What’re you gonna do, pyro?”

Rob turned around and slammed the kid closest to him into the locker. “I didn’t burn anything yet, but you say another word and I’ll set your ugly face on fire!”

Dean saw a teacher walking toward the confrontation and allowed Emily to pull him away. They walked until they reached the hall with dark green lockers. 

“Dean, you need to learn to walk away. High school is _not_ a life or death battle.”

“I’m sure the situation will come up…”

“With you in the school, I’m positive it will. But until it does…”

“Yeah, I’ll try.”

“Good.”

In no time at all they went their separate ways and Dean was sitting in a too bright white classroom, staring at the clock and trying to figure out how many minutes were left of the day. Hell, if he could he’d figure out how many were left until graduation. 

He paid just enough attention to say ‘here’ when his name was called during attendance and then zoned out for all the other announcements. Dean already had his schedule and knew how the day would go; he really didn’t need to hear the rest of the welcome speech. When the bell rang, the young hunter waited until the stampede ended before getting up, flinging his bag over his shoulder, and walking out the door. 

Dean trudged down the hall, towards his first class; chemistry. So long as he didn’t blow anything up he figured that he’d be okay. And maybe with a bit of luck the rest of the day wouldn’t be quite as bad as the beginning had been.


	125. Accident

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five: Accident 

One of the most confusing things about high school was the fact that the schedule didn’t remain consistent from one day to the next. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Dean had chemistry class first period, but on Mondays and Thursdays he started the day with geometry, and on Fridays his literature class was up first. And each class after that would change as well. The only thing that stayed the same was fifth period (Latin; and how awesome was it that they offered it as a foreign language?) because that was during lunch rotation. Dean was in second rotation, which meant that he went to class and then lunch, while the first rotation kids would eat and then start their fifth period class. And period six and seven classes swapped on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Dean swore that whoever came up with the system just wanted to confuse the students and torture those that would lose their schedules within the first week. Like he had.

In any case, by mid October the young hunter had his routine down well and was anxious to get out of the building and start the weekend while his Friday classes seemed to drag on. His third period world history class was almost done and then he’d have to suffer through chem., Latin, gym, and art. He really hadn’t been interested in the art class but had been forced to pick an elective and told that freshmen weren’t allowed to take auto shop. Art had fit into his schedule, was worth more credits than some other electives, and didn’t send him home with assignments. Dean had signed up with advanced placement classes for his academics because he was really hoping to get enough credits to graduate early but what he hadn’t figured on was that he’d have a ton of work from those classes and that he’d be learning crap he didn’t actually know. This was stuff he’d either not been taught the first time around, had forgotten, or had simply just not paid attention to. So for the first time since coming back in time, school was providing a bit of a challenge. Of course, since he was actually putting forth a bit of effort this time around, he found that he was meeting that challenge without any problems and some of his life/hunter skills actually came in handy. Latin… obviously. And his knowledge of obscure rituals and drawing symbols actually helped when it came to chemistry and geometry (go figure). And gym class? Yep, he’d surprised quite a few of the bigger kids that first day. Still though, he’d rather be out doing stuff than sitting behind a desk all day.

“So, I want you all to finish up the chapter, pick one of the critical battles, and write an analysis of what you would’ve done differently had you been in charge of one of the two armies. And please remember to keep your plans within the confines of the technology that they had at the time. I don’t want anybody writing that they’d have dropped an atomic bomb on the opposing army.”

There were a few laughs from the students that were cut off as the bell rang. Dean rose and shrugged his pack onto his shoulder. As he headed for the door, one of the other students ‘accidently’ bumped into him. The smaller boy rolled his eyes but didn’t retaliate. Jerks like that weren’t worth his time. Once in the hall, Dean took a left and entered the corner stairwell. He had to go from upstairs C hall all the way to downstairs A. He hated when his schedule worked out that way. 

Dean arrived at the room to find a crowd of students gathered outside and Mr. Field’s teaching assistant, a young intern named Maggie, blocking the door.

“Please, I already told you all that class is cancelled for today. There was an accident and you are all to report to the library and use this period as a study hall.” 

Some of the kids were trying to see around her, and since she probably only weighed 110 pounds soaking wet, it wasn’t that hard. 

“What happened?”

“Did someone blow something up?”

“Was there a fire?”

“Please, just report to the library.” Maggie pleaded.

“Come on! Let’s clear out of the hall!” The vice principal, a large man with a booming voice came down the hall towards them, waving his hands like he was trying to shoo away pests. “Get out of here and move on down the hall to the library! All of you! Chemistry class is cancelled for today! Move it!”

Dean wandered to the other side of the hall, where he hopefully wouldn’t be seen, and waited until the man had cleared out the crowd. Then he crossed over to Maggie. She was looking extremely relieved that the kids had left and the hunter couldn’t blame her. She was so petite that even a group of freshmen could probably trample the poor young woman to death. 

The small boy waited until the hall was mostly empty before approaching the intern. He didn’t know why, but something in his gut was telling him to try and figure out what had happened. 

“Hi, Maggie.”

“Oh hi, Dean. Class is cancelled today. You can report to the library.” Her tone was much friendlier than before.

Dean flashed her a cute smile. It occurred to him that if he was his mental age instead of his physical one that he’d be using a completely different smile to get information from the attractive woman. “Yeah, what happened? I know it can’t have been a fire or an explosion ‘cause the fire alarms didn’t go off.”

“No nothing like that…” Maggie hesitated.

“Was there an accident?”

“A senior girl got something in her eyes.” The tone of voice and look of horror on the assistant’s face let Dean know that that was only part of the story.

“And they cancelled class for that? It must’ve been bad.” Dean chewed on his bottom lip as he looked up at the woman with wide eyes.

“It was. I can’t… you should get to the library, Dean. The bell’s going to ring any moment.”

Damn. He’d hoped to get more info. Dean nodded. He glanced behind her to see if he could get a look into the room but there was nothing to see. Not that it mattered. An accident in chem. lab wasn’t really his kind of thing. Even if his gut had told him to look into it. Dean must’ve just been paranoid. Maybe. 

Still, he couldn’t put it out of his head all throughout his impromptu study period in the library (which he used to write his history paper) and Latin class. When it was time for lunch, the hunter had decided to walk past the upperclassmen’s tables to see if there was any chatter about what had happened earlier. After all, he knew from experience that sometimes an accident was anything but an accident. And if it turned out that his school was haunted or something, Dean was going to scream. 

As he walked by their usual meeting spot, Dean waved to Emily and then held up his index finger to signal that he needed a moment. She gave him a curious look, but nodded. Then he shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets and casually strolled over to where most of the juniors and seniors were sitting on the tables, loudly talking with each other, laughing, joking, and occasionally throwing food. Yeah, this was the area he typically avoided. And all the voices were combining together to create a loud din that prevented him from hearing individual conversations that might provide him with the answers that he was looking for. Well, that was until a voice rose above the others.

“…because she was a friend of mine, you jerk!”

Dean looked over to see a pretty blonde cheerleader practically shouting as she stood up from her table. Surprisingly enough, most people around her seemed to ignore the outburst. She looked familiar… then the asshole from high school day one stood up right next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Okay, that’s where he knew her from. She was the girl that had suggested that Jay should leave Dean alone. Her name was Kristy or Krissy or something like that. Dean had seen her a few times since that day making out with Jay in the halls. 

“Oh c’mon, Krissy, your friend was a flake. A total geek. And apparently not even a very good one.” Jay chuckled.

Krissy pushed his hand off of her and shoved him. “You are such an ass! She’s in the hospital because her eyes got burned out and you’re making jokes? You just… uh!” She waved her hands dramatically. “You know what? Go screw yourself! We’re through!”

Dean watched as the teen girl stomped off down the hall, her long braid swishing back and forth, and pushed open the front entrance. The kids were allowed to have their lunches outside as long as they stayed on school grounds, but since it was drizzling today no one was taking advantage of that rule. Except now for one distraught cheerleader. Who was soon to be joined by one young hunter.

Dean slipped out the door and heard the teenager sobbing. He approached quietly and sat down on the top step next to her but not too close; they didn’t know each other and he didn’t want to come off as intrusive. 

“Hey. Uh, stupid question, but are you okay?”

The girl looked up and stared at him blankly for a moment then she forced a smile. “Yeah…” He gave her a sympathetic look and her smile dropped. “No, it’s just…”

“You knew the girl that got hurt.”

“Yeah. She’s… she’s one of my two best friends. I mean, she’s my best friend, but she doesn’t really fit in with my other friends, so it’s a little weird. How do you know about the… about what happened?”

“My chem. class was right after.”

“Oh. I took freshman chemistry. But you’re probably in one of the smart kid classes.” She paused for a moment and then continued in a rush. “Freshman is the only mandatory chem. class but Trudy was in the senior college prep lab. Those classes are good for not only high school credits but college credits too. She knew what she was doing. She’s getting an A in the class for God’s sake! How does someone like that ‘accidently’ mix the wrong chemicals and then forget to put her goggles on and then somehow get it all in her eyes? It makes no sense.” Krissy started sobbing again.

Dean scooted closer and somewhat awkwardly started to rub her back. “No, I guess it doesn’t. Do you think it was an equipment failure?”

“I don’t know. No one saw what happened. Her lab partner was up getting more stuff and the other kids were working on their projects. The teacher was grading papers and didn’t know anything was wrong until Trudy started screaming.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah.” Krissy sniffed and brushed her bangs out of her face. “Hey, you’re smart and all, do you know how something like this could happen?”

“Not from what you told me. But if you find out anymore, let me know and maybe I can help you piece things together.”

The cheerleader smiled at him. “Thanks. You’re really sweet. Jay on the other hand… God, he’s such a jerk. I try to talk with him about this and all he’s interested in is putting his hand on my ass. What a creep.” She turned to face the doors they had come out a few minutes before and raised her voice. “You’re going to be awfully lonely with just you and your right hand mister, because I’m never letting you touch me again!” She turned bright red as she realized that Dean was still sitting next to her during her little outburst. “Oh God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for you to hear that. You’re only like… a kid and I just said… oh, man.”

“It’s okay.” Dean assured her. “I may only be twelve, but I _am_ in high school. I know about all that crap because I read the same writing on the bathroom walls as everyone else.”

Krissy burst out laughing. “You’re pretty cool, Dean.”

“Thanks.”

“And I still can’t believe you stood up to Jay on your first day of school.”

“I can’t believe no one else does.”

“He’s…”

“Popular.” Dean cut in. “Yeah, so? He’s only popular because you guys all follow him. But he’s also, as you put it, an ass. So he can play sports? Big freakin’ deal. So can a bunch of other guys. Doesn’t make him special. If you all stop worshipping his stupid ass, he’ll be just another lame bully with no power.”

Krissy looked at him questioningly. “And who do you think we should follow?”

“How about no one.” Dean responded, getting to his feet. “I’m really sorry about your friend. I hope she feels better soon. If you need anything, just find me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean turned and walked back into the building. Krissy was right. It didn’t sound like an accident. But what was it? Burned out eyes usually meant angels, but an angel couldn’t have gotten into chem. lab, burned out one person’s eyes and left without being seen. Besides, there would be no point to it. So what? Pissed off poltergeist? Kid with telekinesis on a revenge kick. Or something else entirely? Whatever it was, Dean would figure it out. And, since he was on his home turf, he’d have to do it quietly, without attracting any attention to himself. And without getting his own eyes burned out.


	126. A Favor to Ask

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Six: A Favor to Ask 

The sun hadn’t even begun to rise as Sam pulled his shirt on and practically ran from his bedroom. He’d thought long and hard about this and had almost done it the last two weekends but had decided against it. But today was the day. He was going to ask Dean. He knew that his big brother was involved with some possible job at school, but there wasn’t too much that Dean would be able to do about it early on a Saturday morning anyway. Besides, if there really was dangerous stuff happening at school, it was more important than ever that Sam get this done.

He opened up Dean’s bedroom door and slipped inside. His brother was still asleep with Cas sitting on the edge of the bed. The angel had one hand on Dean’s head and his eyes closed. Sam knew that Dean suffered from horrific nightmares every night because of something that demons had done to him years ago and that Cas was needed to help him through it. His brother insisted that it was only temporary and that when he was a bit older he’d be able to deal with it better and no longer need the assistance. Sam thought that it was awful that Dean had ever been hurt that badly in the first place. 

Sam stood in his brother’s room, unsure of how to proceed. Did he wake Dean up? Or wait for the older boy to wake up on his own. Maybe Cas would sense his presence and wake Dean up for him. Sam sighed. He really should’ve thought ahead. 

The younger brother wandered around the room, looking at all of his brother’s stuff. Books, a stereo, tons of music, a guitar, clothes on the floor, a half finished board game, some model cars, a dartboard, and on his nightstand was the journal that Dean had told him to NEVER touch. It occurred to him, as it had before, how different his brother’s room was from most twelve year olds’ rooms. Then again, Dean was so very different from anyone Sam had ever met. He wondered if it was because his big brother had started hunting so young (he knew that Dean had started before he was even in kindergarten), or if it was because he’d been so badly hurt and traumatized by the demon, or just because he was Dean and Dean was just so unique. Either way, Sam knew that he was lucky to have the brother that he had. His friends at school always complained that their older siblings were mean and would make fun of them or sometimes even hurt them. That seemed unreal to Sam. Sure Dean teased him sometimes and Sam would tease him back, but Dean was never cruel to him and would sooner die than harm Sam. So what if he was a bit odd? He was the most awesome big brother ever.

Sam approached the bed and looked at the journal. There was a photo sticking out of the pages and the boy tried to get a look at it. All he could see was the very corner, but it looked a bit worn and there were fingerprint smudges on it. He glanced over at Dean and Cas. Still out. His curiosity getting the better of him, Sam carefully slid the photo out from the journal. After all, Dean had forbidden him from looking at the journal itself but had never said not to peek at any loose photographs kept inside the book.

The picture was of two young men having a playful fight over a water bottle right next to the Impala. Sam was positive that the picture had been taken at Bobby’s and that, combined with the fact that the family’s car was in the photo, meant that the two people must know his parents somehow. And Dean if his brother had the picture with him. But Sam was certain that he’d never met them before, although they looked like they might possibly be related to their family somehow. But wait… maybe… The boy took a closer look at the shorter of the two men. His hair was in a style similar to Dean’s and Sam could’ve sworn that he’d seen the guy somewhere before. In a diner somewhere?

Just then, Dean started to stir and Sam quickly slid the photo back into the journal and took a step back. He would need his brother’s cooperation and didn’t want him to be upset by the younger boy’s snooping first thing in the morning.

“Good Morning, Dean!” He announced cheerfully.

“Sammy?” The older boy mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “What the hell are you doing in here this early?” Then he suddenly sat up, wide awake. “Is everything alright? Are you okay? Are Mom and Dad okay?”

“What? Oh… no, I mean yeah, everyone’s fine. They’re still sleeping. I just…” Sam got no further as a pillow collided with his face. “What was that for?”

“For scaring the crap outta me!”

“Hey I didn’t mean to! You just assumed that something was wrong. All I said was ‘good morning’.” Sam protested.

“Yeah, at too early o’clock in the morning.” Dean complained.

“But since we’re both up now, I have a favor to ask.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “’Course you do.” He sighed. “Cas, do me a favor and go downstairs while I get dressed and talk with Sammy. I’ll see you in a bit.”

The angel nodded once. “Alright, Dean.” Then he was gone.

“Eight years in this house and he still can’t walk down the stairs like a normal person.” Dean muttered. “So, what’s up?”

Sam turned to give his older brother some privacy as he got out of bed and walked to the dresser. The boy heard the drawers opening and closing as Dean chose his clothing for the day.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe you could… you know, since you’re pretty much healed, except for your wrist that sometimes still bothers you even though you insist that it doesn’t, but since you’re doing much better and even taking on a possible job at your school I got to thinking that maybe you could, well, you know, I was thinking that…”

“Sammy, spit it out!”

“I want you to train me to hunt.” Sam confessed.

“No.”

Sam spun to face his brother. Dean stood there in a pair of jeans, his t-shirt in one hand and a serious look on his face.

“But Dean…”

“No way, Sammy. I don’t want you getting hurt. You’re not hunting.”

“But…”

“Look at me.” The older boy held his hands out to his sides. Sam got a good look at his brother’s body. Dean was lean and had a bit of muscles and quite a few scars on his torso and arms. Sam knew that his parents had recorded accidents to explain them so that social services wouldn’t get involved but he had to admit that just looking at Dean’s body made a shiver go up his spine. His big brother had been through hell in his short life. “This is where hunting gets you. I don’t want this for you, Sammy. You’re too young to get into this crap.”

“You were like, four when you started.” Sam shot back.

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“Yeah I know. You’re a target for demons. You needed to learn to defend yourself. But so do I.”

“No, that’s my job.”

“And I couldn’t ask for a better protector. But Dean, what am I going to do if something happens to you again? You were in the hospital and I didn’t even know if you were going to live or die! And Dad was hurt too and Mom and Cas weren’t there. I was alone when the angels came for me. It was pure luck that Anderson turned out to be a good guy; he protected me with his life, but we both know that most people wouldn’t have done that. If he hadn’t been there, if it had been anyone else, I might’ve been killed by those angels. And something like that might happen again, Dean. I don’t want to hunt. At least not right now. But I do want to be able to defend myself if something comes after me.” Sam didn’t mention that he also wanted to be able to protect Dean if his older brother was ever hurt badly again.

Dean still looked reluctant but finally he let out a sigh. “Fine. You’re right. I’ll teach you protective warding, some exorcism stuff, defensive fighting that’ll work for your size, and I’ll pull out my old air gun and give you some target practice.”

Sam grinned and threw his arms around the taller boy. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Whoa, hey! No hugs until I’m dressed!” Despite his words, Dean didn’t push Sam away and even ruffled his hair. Once the younger brother stepped back, the hunter shot him a look. “Oh, and one more thing. You have to help explain to Mom and Dad why I’m teaching you all this crap. ‘Cause they are _not_ gonna be pleased.”

“Aww c’mon, Dean. Mom and Dad always listen to you.”

Dean’s eyes widened almost comically. “Whose mom and dad do you know? ‘Cause you’re sure as hell not talking about ours. But one shot of your puppy dog eyes and they’ll agree to anything.”

Sam made a face. “I do _not_ do puppy dog eyes!”

“Oh you totally do. And I bet you a twenty that you never grow outta it.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Sam giggled. Dean had just recently started calling him that teasingly during their mock arguments and the younger boy thought that it was hilarious. It also made him feel very grown up that his brother would have a vulgar inside joke with him. And it had to stay an inside joke because their mom would ground them forever if she heard it. 

“Seriously Dean, you think they’ll let you train me?”

“Hey, they’ve been on board with everything I’ve planned out for eight years now. Some things need more convincing than others… or a bit of sneaking… but we’ll make it work.” He threw a wink in at the end.

“Thanks Dean.”

“No problem.”

Sam chewed on his bottom lip, wondering if he should bring up this last thing. It had been his final card to play if Dean had needed more convincing, but since the older boy had already agreed, maybe Sam didn’t need to tell him. After all, he didn’t want to worry his big brother. But Sam himself was worried about it and maybe Dean would have some answers.

“Hey Sammy, I can hear your brain grinding away. What’s up?”

“What… what’s your destiny, Dean?”

“What?”

“I mean, I know that you’re hunted by demons, and angels are after you too, and you stopped the apocalypse, and you have a role in all this stuff and that’s why you’re a target, but what exactly is your destiny? Do you know?”

A million emotions crossed Dean’s face in the blink of an eye. “Sammy…”

“I know you don’t like to talk about it and that you and Mom and Dad and even Cas are keeping stuff from me ‘cause you think I’m too young but I really need to know.”

“Why?”

“’Cause of something the angels said to me.”

“What did those douche-bags tell you?”

Sam shook his head. “Uh-uh. First you tell me what your destiny is.”

“My destiny is to get my ass kicked by both sides of this crap-fest apocalypse war.”

“But why?”

“Because I have, or rather should have had, an important role to play. But we’re changing all that and it pisses them off.”

Sam nodded. “What was your role supposed to be?”

“Not now, Sammy.”

“Dean… please. It’s important.” Sam pleaded.

“There! Right there! That’s those damned puppy dog eyes!”

“Well, are they working?”

Dean dropped his head. “All you need to know is that they wanted to manipulate me into doing something that would’ve helped to jump start the apocalypse. But I know their plans and there’s no way in hell that it’s happening.”

“There’s more.”

“There’s always more, Sammy. Always. But none of it matters because I won’t let the world end. Now what did the dicks with wings tell you?”

“They… they said that I have a destiny too. Is… is that true?”

“Sammy, the angels lie just as much as demons do.”

“That’s not a no.”

Dean sighed. “I just…”

“Oh man, it is true! I have some kind of destiny tied up with all of this, don’t I?” Sam felt panic rush through him.

“No.” Dean shook his head. “Sammy, listen to me. You were supposed to. But I stopped it. Eight years ago, when you were just a baby, the demon that was supposed to set your destiny in all of this into motion was killed by Mom and I before he could get to you. And if anything else ever tries to get near you, they’ll have to go through me, got it?”

“But why would the angels say…”

“’Cause they want things to be the way that they were supposed to be. But that’s just not gonna happen. Destiny is for losers, Sammy. You and me? We are gonna screw destiny and live our lives, right?”

“Right.” Sam nodded.

“Awesome. Now, let’s go get some breakfast and then I’ll start teaching you some defensive crap before I head out to work my new job.”

“Okay. Thanks again, Dean.”

Sam walked out of his brother’s room feeling much better. He was going to get trained and he’d be ready for anything and Dean would always have his back. As Dean would say; awesome.


	127. Training and Investigating

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Seven: Training and Investigating 

If he had an angel blade in his hands and Zachariah and Raphael right in front of him, Dean would be sure to leave two bloody corpses with blackened wing patterns behind on his parents’ kitchen floor. Even if it _would_ be a bitch to clean up. How dare those pretentious, self-righteous, douchey bastards tell Sam that he had some kind of role to play in their stupid apocalyptic plans? What the hell? Why would they even mention something like that to the kid? Just to screw with him? Whatever the reason, it wasn’t going to happen. No way. And they were going to pay for mentioning it to Sam. Hell, they were going to pay for even thinking about using his brother in their freakin’ dumbass plans.

Dean tried to control his anger and frustration as he finished washing his breakfast dishes. He didn’t want Sam to know how pissed he was about what the younger boy had told him because he didn’t want it to be misinterpreted as anger towards his brother. He also didn’t want to accidently break his mom’s plates or glasses. 

But, past all the anger, there was also fear. Was there some kind of plan that involved Sam? Was his little brother going to become a target as well? No. Nope. No way. Dean _would not_ let that happen. Ever.

“Okay Dean, I’m done.”

Dean walked into the dining room to take a look at Sam’s drawings. Sam slid the first one forward. It had been painstakingly drawn in permanent marker and was not only extremely precise but was nicely symmetrical. Dean looked it over and nodded.

“Name?” Dean asked.

“Key of Solomon. Also referred to as a devil’s trap.” Sam responded.

“Purpose?”

“Trap a demon.”

“Where are they placed?”

“On floors, hidden under rugs and stuff so the demons don’t see them until it’s too late. Or they can be on the ceiling.”

“What do you draw them with?”

“Anything you have on hand.”

“How does it work?”

“A demon can pass through it to step in but once it does it becomes trapped and can’t get out until the trap is broken. They can also be altered slightly to keep demons out of stuff to create lockboxes and stuff like that.”

“Good job. Next.”

Sam grinned proudly as he slid the next picture forward. This one had been finger painted with red paint and was a bit messier than the first but was still perfectly accurate. 

Dean pointed at it. “Name?”

“Uh… Enochian banishing sigil?”

Dean shrugged. “Close enough. Never really got a real name for it. Guess I should give it a cool one some day. Like… ‘Winged-dick repellent’ or something.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I can just see you trying to convince Mom to call it that.”

“It’d be funnier to hear Cas call it that.” Dean said with a smirk. Then he continued on, focusing their attention back to the lesson. “Purpose?”

“Banish angels.”

“Where are they placed?”

“On a wall where you can easily reach it when you need it, but preferably out of the line of sight of the angels if you’re trying to trick them.”

“What do you draw them with?”

“Blood.”

“How does it work?”

“When there are angels in the room, if you place your bloody palm on the sigil it banishes the angels back up to Heaven and it takes them a while to make their way back down here. Oh, and we should always warn Cas so that he could get clear before we activate one of these

“Nice. Okay, Sammy. There’s like a billion more symbols out there but these two are really important for you to know, so I want you to keep practicing drawing them until you can practically do it in your sleep, okay?”

“Okay. So, what now?”

“Well, I hear Mom and Dad moving around upstairs so lets clean all this crap up before they see it. I want to tell ‘em what we’re doing before they see the results. Then we head downstairs to the basement. We got some mats down there and I’ll start to teach you some basic hand to hand stuff. We should get Dad involved too because you’re gonna need to be able to take down and evade opponents his size. Not too many demons are gonna pick hosts that are in child sized packaging.”

“Yeah, okay.

“Cool. So, let’s get this arts and crafts stuff cleared up on the double then.”

A few hours later, Dean appeared in the hall of Lawrence High School right outside of the chem. lab. Cas removed his hand from the hunter’s shoulder and they both approached the classroom. 

It was just past noontime and Dean was already exhausted. He’d spent the better part of the morning teaching Sam hunting stuff and arguing with his parents over why it was important to teach Sam all that crap. While he knew that part of them had agreed with their point of view, as parents they hadn’t wanted to think about their innocent little eight year old learning this stuff. Dean really couldn’t blame them. After all, their eldest was already completely screwed up, they probably just wanted to cling to their one normal child for as long as possible. Yet, in the end, they’d seen reason and as Dean was getting ready to leave with Cas, John and Mary were preparing to take over the hand to hand lesson.

But now he had to put all of that out of his mind and try to focus on the job. Dean placed his ear against the door to make certain that there was no one inside. Cas had offered to transport them directly into the chemistry room, but the hunter had thought better of it when it occurred to him that someone might actually be in there. It wasn’t likely, nothing was going on in the school that Saturday and since the girl’s incident was ruled an accident there would be no investigation, but still it was better to be safe than sorry. 

Dean picked the lock on the door and twisted the knob. The door swung open and he walked in, the angel close behind. He looked around and let out a disappointed sigh. The whole place had been cleaned up. He’d expected as much, but still it would’ve helped to have gotten a look at everything the way it had been when whatever had happened had happened.

“So,” Dean started, thinking out loud. “Eyes burned out. Sounds like an angel but there’s just no way an angel could’ve appeared in the middle of the classroom and burned out just one girl’s eyes and had no one else notice. Maybe she was trying to summon one… or get a peek at one like Pamela did with you?”

Cas shook his head. “No. That spell requires a séance with at least three people and several supplies that would’ve stood out in a classroom. I don’t believe she could’ve done it in secret here. Nor do I know why she would’ve tried.”

“Yeah, most teenagers that try séances do them at lame-ass parties.” Dean agreed. “So then… not angels. The eye thing isn’t a demon calling card and I don’t see any trace of demonic activity, so we can cross them off the list too. Let’s see where she was sitting.” Dean walked up to the teacher’s desk and flipped to the right class’s seating chart. He ran his finger down the list of names, looking for ‘Trudy’. “Got it! Trudy Bates. Sits at the fourth table back, in the first row, on the right side of the table.” 

Dean walked over and inspected the area. He looked at the table, the sink built into the center, the test tubes set up in their holders, the safety goggles, the other assorted equipment, … hell, he even examined the girl’s stool that she’d sat on. He found nothing out of the ordinary. Well, almost nothing. The table had a couple marks on it, like a chemical had recently been splattered on it and had damaged surface. Dean ran his hand over it. Anything strong enough to do that would seriously screw up a person’s eyes. But students were not allowed to use stuff that strong for safety reasons. Trudy would’ve had to have mixed chemicals purposefully to have created something with that kind of result. And, as Dean looked at the test tubes and other equipment on hand, he realized that there was just no way that it could’ve accidently splashed up into someone’s eyes. The mixture was made on purpose and would’ve had to have been practically thrown at the poor girl. But by who? No one was near her, so a ghost was looking more and more likely.

Dean pulled out his EMF detector and turned it on. Nothing. _What the hell?_ He shook the device but it made no difference. It was still telling him that there was no trace of ghostly activity.

“Perhaps it has been too long since the spirit has been present.” Cas suggested.

“If it’s a ghost, it manifested its ass in a huge way just yesterday. There should be some trace.”

“Then it’s not a spirit?”

“Maybe… unless the EMF _is_ gone now for some reason.” Dean sighed. “Well, we can’t take ‘spirit’ off the list yet, but let’s not put all our eggs in the ghost basket.”

Cas blinked at that. “What eggs are we…”

“Never mind, Cas. The point is that we need more info and maybe more suspects. And there’s nothing here to help. Let’s make one more stop in the building and then we’ll be on our way.”

The angel nodded, but still seemed a bit confused. He was probably trying to figure out how one put eggs in a non-corporeal basket. 

They left the chem. lab, making sure that the door locked behind them, and Dean made his way down the hall towards where the offices were. When they reached the main office, he once again picked the lock and slipped inside. The boy went right to the file cabinets and pulled out the drawer marked ‘BA-BE’. Dean thumbed through them until he came to the file labeled ‘BATES, Trudy’ and then he pulled it out. 

The hunter flipped through it. There was a one sheet printout about Friday’s so-called accident, but there was no actual information in it, so Dean left it alone. He ignored all the paperwork about test scores, classes, and crap like that and pulled out the paper that had her address on it. He quickly wrote it down on a scrap piece of paper and shoved the information into his jeans pocket. Then he placed the paper back in her folder. Dean continued to glance through the folder to see if anything stood out as a motive for someone or something to target this particular girl, but she seemed like an average, if especially smart, teenager.

Dean replaced her folder, closed the drawer, and turned back to Cas. He was about to tell his friend that they were all set when suddenly he heard footsteps right outside the office door. 

He dropped down behind the desk, motioning to Cas to do the same. Nothing was going on in this building today. There was absolutely no reason for anyone to be here. Well, no reason that didn’t involve eyes being burned out of people’s skulls, that is.

The young hunter kept out of sight, but readied himself in a crouch, his hand reaching for a weapon. But he wasn’t sure if he should go for the Colt or the salt as he heard the door knob begin to turn.


	128. Do Not Touch

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Eight: Do Not Touch 

The door swung open and the sound of footsteps spurred Dean to wrap his hand around the butt of the Colt. Ghosts didn’t make a sound like that. Hell, ghosts didn’t have to open the freakin’ door if they didn’t want to. The hunter held his breath, ready to attack whatever was in the room before it got a chance to attack him first.

“Hello? I thought I heard someone in here and the door was unlocked.” A voice called out. “Is someone in here?”

Dean scrunched his brow in confusion. Well, it certainly didn’t sound evil… the young hunter elbowed Cas and nodded his head towards the door. The angel nodded and disappeared from sight, going into stealth mode. 

The footsteps proceeded hesitantly into the office and Dean was beginning to worry that his hiding place would be discovered when suddenly there was a loud banging noise from far down in the hall. The footsteps quickly exited the room after an exclamation of ‘what the hell?!’.

Cas appeared besides Dean. “He was the janitor. I don’t believe he has anything to do with what transpired yesterday.”

“I got that, Sherlock.” Dean shot back. “Go stealth again. Something’s going on and I wanna know what. We’re following him.”

Dean slipped out of the room, feeling the angel’s presence behind him. He crept quickly but quietly down the hall. He didn’t see the janitor but could hear a commotion coming from somewhere up ahead. In A hall, if he wasn’t mistaken. 

“Oh! Oh god!” Then the footsteps started back his way. 

Dean tensed and looked around for some place to hide but there were no doors close enough to duck through. Even if there were, they’d probably be locked and there certainly wasn’t enough time for Dean to pick them. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and found himself in the library. The boy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Cas.” He said gratefully. “Can you take us to A hall? Something happened there that shocked Mr. Clean.”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“Well, he’s not there now and we gotta see what happened.”

“Alright.”

Seconds later the deserted library was replaced by blue lockers. The whole atmosphere of an empty school was a bit creepy and that image wasn’t helped by the dead teenage girl lying on the tile floor in a pool of her own blood. Dean froze as he took in the scene. The girl was dressed in a cheerleader outfit, her short dark hair was perfectly styled, and she was wearing an overabundance of makeup. He was certain that he’d seen her hanging out at the ‘popular kid’ table even though he didn’t think he’d ever heard her name. But what stood out the most at that moment were the deeply sliced wrists and the razor lying near her right hand. It looked like a suicide. The day after a suspicious accident. Right.

Dean looked over and saw that the teen girl was lying next to an open locker. But when he saw the locker number his eyes widened. Locker 136. He’d just seen that locker number. It was listed in Trudy Bates file as her locker. 

Dean stepped forward carefully, trying to get a look in the locker without stepping in the blood. When he was close enough, he started examining everything he could see. There were a bunch of books, some notebooks, a jacket, a few photos taped to the inside of the door, a lunch bag, and at the bottom of the locker an object that looked like a hacky-sack. Wait… no, that’s not what it was at all. It was a hex bag.

“Oh crap.” Dean groaned. “Witchcraft. Why couldn’t it be ghosts?” 

The hunter knew that there was no way that he could leave the bag behind. He’d need it to examine its contents. So, stepping gingerly around the ever spreading puddle of blood, Dean reached down and snatched up the bag without touching anything else in the locker. Then he jumped backwards and away from the body. He was about to announce his success to Cas when he realized that something was wrong.

There had been several time over the many years of hunting when Dean had grabbed a hex bag either from a victim or from the scene of a crime. On those occasions he’d either burned them immediately to keep the intended victim safe or he’d pocketed them to take them back to his motel room for later examination. But never had he felt anything from merely touching the item. When a practicing witch made a hex bag, they directed the curse at their intended victim so that the spell would only work on that person and anyone else coming in contact with the bag would be unaffected. This made picking up a hex bag perfectly safe. But this time, Dean felt the wrongness of the item spread from his hand all throughout his body almost instantly. Which meant that either the bag was meant to affect anyone, or it had multiple targets and Dean was one of them. 

Either way, the boy felt the rush of wrongness seem to dissipate as though it were never there in the first place but he knew that whatever spell was at work wouldn’t be gone. He was proven right just a moment later when, against his will, his eyes were drawn to the razor lying near the cheerleader’s hand. His own hand itched to pick it up. To pick it up and hold it. To pick it up, hold it, and the thrust it into his throat. To pick it up, hold it, thrust it into his throat and twist it around. To pick it up, hold it, thrust it into his throat, twist it around and yank it out so a geyser of blood would erupt from the wound. Yes… yes, that’s exactly what he should… _NO!_

Dean shook his head and threw the bag down the hall as far from himself as he could get it. Then he took a few steps backwards and waited for his head to clear. He felt his body tremble slightly. He didn’t want to contemplate how close he’d come to joining the dead girl on the floor. But before he could celebrate his continued life, Dean’s hand darted into his pocket and his fingers wrapped around the butt of his gun. Because really, why did he need to reuse a razor when he’d brought his own weapon to the party? And wouldn’t a gun make such a better impact? Dean could see it now; the business end pressed against his temple as his finger pulled the trigger and splattered his brains all over the once blue lockers. Or maybe under his chin would be a better way to go? _NO!_ Yes, oh yes, this was such a good idea.

“Cas…” Dean pleaded. At least he was pretty sure that he’d vocalized his friend’s name. He hoped that he had, because his hand was starting to pull the Colt from his pocket as the idea of using the weapon started to seem more and more appealing even as the very thought of blowing his brains out sickened him. 

Then he felt two fingers on his forehead and the world went black. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel knew something was wrong the moment that Dean hopped backwards and away from the locker. Not only did he not make some kind of statement of triumph or semi-humorous comment but his entire posture suddenly changed. The hunter went from his usual relaxed, slightly slouched stance to a rigid and trembling one. His right hand opened and closed repeatedly and he was looking downwards at the dead body. Castiel was about to call out to him when Dean suddenly threw the bag down the hall and stepped backwards.

Trying to figure out what exactly was wrong, and suspecting that it had something to do with the magical bag that his young friend had touched, the angel took a peek at Dean’s soul. His eyes widened at the angry red streaks running and twisting their way through it. 

“Cas…” Dean’s voice was desperate and Castiel saw that his hand was in the pocket where he kept his gun and was starting to draw the weapon out.

Without hesitation, the angel stepped forward and placed two fingers on the boy’s head, placing him into a deep sleep. He caught Dean as the small hunter fell bonelessly to the floor. Lifting him effortlessly, Castiel proceeded down the hall to where the bag was lying on the tile, looking completely harmless. As he got close, the angel could feel the contamination practically leaking from it. 

Angels were not affected by hexes so he didn’t think twice about picking up the object and shoving it into his trench coat pocket. As he did so, Castiel heard the main doors to the high school open and several voices talking all at once. It seemed that the janitor had alerted the proper authorities. It was time to leave.

With Dean cradled in his arms and the hex bag safely stored in his pocket, Castiel transported himself back to the Winchester’s home. He was hoping that the family would still be downstairs training Sam so that questions would be at a minimum but when was he ever that lucky? 

“Cas! What happened? What’s wrong with Dean? Is he alright?” John ran into the living room from the dining room followed closely by his wife and youngest son.

“He is physically well.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“What happened?” Mary asked.

“I will answer your questions as soon as I put Dean down.” The angel responded as he walked to the couch. He gently placed the boy down. 

Sam rushed to his brother’s side. “Oh thank God! I thought maybe his eyes were burned out or something.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side. “I informed you all that he was physically well. ‘Eyes burned out’ does not fit my concept of ‘physically well’.”

Sam looked embarrassed. “Uh no. I guess not. I just… I worry.”

“I understand. He is your brother.”

“Yeah.” Sam brushed his hand through Dean’s hair. “So what’s wrong with him?”

“I put him to sleep after he was affected by some dark magics.”

“Magic?” Mary questioned.

“Witchcraft.” Castiel explained, taking the hex bag from his pocket. “I caution you all to not get near this. Merely touching it infected Dean. I will dismantle it to render the spell harmless as soon as I cleanse your son.”

He held the cursed object in one hand and then placed his other palm under Dean’s shirt on the hunter’s bare chest, right above his heart. Castiel concentrated hard on his friend’s soul and the darkness that did not belong there. With all his might he extracted it from Dean, channeled it through himself, and deposited it back into the small, cloth bag. When the process was complete, Castiel dropped the evil thing back into his pocket and sagged with a combination of exhaustion and relief. 

Just then, Dean sat up straight and cried out. “Cas!”

“It is alright, Dean. You will be fine.”

The young hunter looked around somewhat frantically before realizing that he was home and not under the spell’s influence any longer. Castiel could see him relax. “What happened?”

“I put you to sleep and brought you home. I then undid the effects of the hex bag.”

“Oh. Well, thanks for that.”

“Where did you find the bag, Dean?” John inquired. “And what happened when you picked it up?”

Dean seemed hesitant to say anything so Castiel spoke up, providing a concise and accurate depiction of their actions from the moment they appeared in the school building to when Dean picked up the hex bag. His friend shot him a grateful look, obviously glad to have a moment to gather his thoughts before he had to join in on his part of the explanation. But when Castiel was done talking, all eyes turned to the young hunter.

“When I picked up the bag, I knew immediately that something was wrong. At first it was a weird feeling but then I just… I don’t know, I didn’t _want_ to, but it felt like I _needed_ to kill myself.” Dean shifted uncomfortably as his parents gasped. “I tried to stop myself but my body was acting on its own, like there was this pull or something.” He shrugged. “Then Cas put me out.”

“You called out to me.”

Dean let out a little huff of a laugh. “I wasn’t sure if I actually said that out loud.”

“You did. And I could see that something was wrong. I looked into your soul and saw the spell running through it.”

“Well, that’s creepy.”

“What does this mean?” John wanted to know. “Is Dean a target too? Or does that thing just hurt anyone that touches it?”

“I’m not sure.” Castiel replied.

Dean shrugged. “Beats the hell outta me. What we need is an expert in this crap. I say we call in Missouri.”


	129. Dark Magic

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Nine: Dark Magic 

Dean felt edgy and off still, even though he knew that the effects of the spell were completely gone. Cas had told him that he’d cleansed him of the magic, but the hunter still remembered the wrongness of the hex and felt like the curse was clinging to his very soul. He idly wondered if it was possible to give his insides a hot shower. Then maybe he’d feel better. You know, so long as he could take a scrubbing brush to his memories of the incident too.

“You okay, Dean?” Sam asked as he hopped up on the chair next to Dean’s.

Dean glanced over at his little brother and then back to the now opened hex bag. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You… you don’t feel like you’re gonna still hurt yourself or anything, do you?” Sam’s voice was barely audible.

“No way. That’s all over now, Sammy. Don’t worry.”

“And this thing’s not dangerous no more?” The smaller boy gestured to the ingredients scattered on the dining room table.

“Completely harmless.”

“Good. I don’t wanna lose you, Dean.”

“Not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, short stuff.” Dean ruffled his brother’s hair.

“I’m not gonna be short forever.” Sam protested, pushing Dean’s hand away. But the little guy was smiling the entire time. “Someday I’ll be as tall as you.”

“Bet you might even be taller.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Dean confirmed, wondering what his younger brother would think if he knew how tall he really would be one day. 

“So what _is_ all this stuff, Dean?”

“Crap that witches use to hex people. Most of it can be found easily enough. It’s like herbs and stuff, but there’s other stuff that is weird. Like, I’d bet anything that that stuff is crossroads dirt. Which probably means that the witch was channeling the powers of a demon. Not good. And that’s a bone.”

“Yeah, I know that… but it’s not human, right?”

“Nah, bet it’s a cat or small dog or something.”

“Ewww. Witches are nasty.”

Dean chuckled. “Definitely. But the thing is that I just can’t tell specifics from looking at these things. I mean, I know what a bunch of this is, but I don’t know what its purpose is.”

“So that’s why Missouri’s coming?”

“Yep.”

“Was it… was it scary when the curse thing was making you try and… you know, kill yourself?”

Dean groaned internally. He really didn’t want to have this conversation and especially not with his eight year old brother. But Sammy had always been curious and never knew when to not ask questions. “Well, it was no picnic, I’ll tell you that. But, as I said, it’s over.”

“Okay.” Sam hesitated a moment and then practically leapt from his own chair into Dean’s and threw his arms around the older boy. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too.” Dean replied hugging him back.

At that moment, Missouri walked into the room. Dean’s head whipped around. He hadn’t even heard her come in the front door. Damn, he really needed to pay attention better.

“Well now, this would just be a beautiful sight if you boys weren’t right next to a table full of evil. Dean Winchester! You get your brother away from that stuff right this instant.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas took it all apart. It’s harmless now. Got the angel seal of approval and everything.”

“You got your elbow right next to graveyard weeds dipped in owl’s blood and you’re telling me that you’re okay with that?”

“Oh that’s just gross.” Dean made a face and pushed Sam off the chair and away from the stuff, making sure that the smaller boy didn’t fall, before jumping off after him.

Dean watched his parents and the aforementioned angel walk into the room before turning back to the psychic. “So, what can you tell us about this crap?”

“Watch your language, young man.” She snapped. “And I don’t even get a ‘hello’ from you?”

“You didn’t give me one when you came in.” Dean countered with a grin.

“You get even more a wise mouth every time I see you, boy.” Missouri stepped forward and hugged him before quickly pulling back. “Oh! I’m so sorry. That bag almost killed you! But there’s no trace left, thank goodness. Because from what I can see of it, and feel, that’s some evil and powerful magic.”

“Yeah, I have Cas to thank for me still being here.” Dean admitted.

“Well what were you thinking, picking up a dangerous hex bag like that? I thought you had a bit more brains than that.”

“It’s not Dean’s fault! He didn’t know that it could affect him too!” Sam defended him. 

“Ah, she’s just giving me a hard time, Sammy.” Dean informed his brother, but put his arm around the boy to show that he was thankful for the support. “Anyways, Sammy’s right. It was in the locker of a dead chick. Well, actually, the locker belonged to a girl who’s alive but blind thanks to splashing some dangerous chemicals in her own eyes and then another chick slit her wrists right outside that girl’s locker. I saw the bag and went to grab it before the janitor that discovered the body could get back there with the police. Figured that the bag was meant to harm the dead girl, not me.”

“Well, you were obviously wrong.” Missouri pointed out.

“Obviously. But in what way was I wrong. Can you tell if this bag has multiple targets including me? Or does it just affect everyone who comes in contact with it? And why did Trudy just damage her eyes but me and cheerleader girl go for the big dirt nap?”

“Now how in the world do you expect me to have all the answers from just standing in the room with the pieces of this thing for a couple minutes? Give me some time. And don’t you go thinking those thoughts about me again, boy.”

Dean smirked. “How about if I think about…”

“Dean.” His dad cut him off. “Let her get to work. You can aggravate each other later.”

“Fine.”

Dean stood next to her as she placed her hands on the table and leaned over the ingredients. She seemed to examine each item, sometimes making faces, sometimes closing her eyes in concentration. Then she turned back to the family. 

“The person who made this either didn’t care who they were hurting or didn’t know what they were doing.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s mom beat him to the punch with asking.

“Well, the spell is powerful alright. Items like the graveyard weeds with owl blood, kitten bones, and crossroad dirt signify very dark forces behind this hex. But I see absolutely nothing here that would direct the spell at a person, group of persons, or even a type of person. Anyone touching the bag would be placed under the affect of the magic. If Dean hadn’t been there to retrieve this, a whole lotta people would’ve died when that locker was cleaned out.”

“Oh, so now it’s a _good_ thing that I picked it up?” Dean teased.

“Well, next time maybe you should let the angel here pick up cursed objects.”

“But why did Dean try to kill himself?” Sam wanted to know. “And that girl killed herself too. But Dean said the first girl is still alive.”

“So why did the bag suddenly change its orders?” Dean questioned. “Or did Trudy just fail miserably in offing herself? And if so, will she try again?”

“I don’t think that she was trying to kill herself.” Missouri explained. “You’ll also notice that the time between contact with the bag and the violent act lessened between the first victim and yourself.”

“Great, more questions. You got any answers to go with those?”

“If you keep your mouth closed maybe I could give them to you. This item right here is an egg of a serpent.”

“It’s tiny.” Sam noted. “Will it hatch?”

“No. There’s a small puncture hole right here. And it’s so small because of the species and because it was just laid. But the point is that in spells, if one of these are used, it will absorb the violence of an act and focus that power. So, the command for the hex bag was most likely for the victim to harm themselves which is what the first victim did by blinding herself. But then violence of the first girl’s act was trapped inside the serpent’s egg and magnified the darkness and power of the magic and the second girl was compelled to take that act further.”

“And she killed herself.” Dean’s mom continued the thought.

“And then I picked it up and was subjected to the original magic multiplied by what had happened to the two girls.” Dean finished. “But why would anyone make something like this?”

“As I said. Either this person doesn’t care who they hurt or they only wanted to hurt that first poor girl and had no clue what they were doing.”

“So, the second girl’s death could just be an accident?” Dean asked. “But why put all this stuff in there if not to cause all this?”

“Amateurs.” Missouri shook her head. “People starting off in witchcraft sometimes just find books and copy whatever looks good.”

“But if it’s the other choice then there could be more of these out there.”

“Even if the witch didn’t intend to kill anyone there might be more out there. They could’ve made a bunch to hex a few targets.”

Dean groaned. “So either way, we gotta figure out who’s doing this. Well, at least I know that I’m not a direct target this time. That’s a nice change.”

“Is there any way for you to determine who made this particular bag?” Dean’s dad asked Missouri.

“Sure there is… if I had both the person and the bag in the same room.”

“So you can’t just track the magic to its source?”

“What do I look like to you? A blood hound?”

Dean snickered.

Missouri turned to him. “One more thought like that Dean Winchester and…”

He put up his hands in surrender, but kept the grin plastered to his face. “Okay, I’m backing off.”

Sam giggled from behind him.

“And you are a terrible influence to that poor sweet boy.” Missouri shook her head.”

“Uh uh! Dean’s the best!” Sam defended.

“We’re getting off track.” Cas put in. “How do we find the person that made the hex bag.”

“Well,” Dean started. “Whether or not more victims were intended, the bag was put in Trudy Bates’s locker, so the person meant to hurt her. I think we should start there.”

“Dean and I procured her address, so we can examine her home for any clues as to why someone would wish her harm.” 

“While you all do that, I’ll try to get you some protection against this hex.” Missouri added. “Just in case your angel isn’t around the next time something happens.”

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.” Dean’s mom smiled.

“I’ll see you out.” Dean offered Missouri as the woman started out of the room.

“Oh, you finally getting some manners, boy?”

“Nope, just making sure that you’re actually leaving.” He laughed as she swatted him in the back of his head.

He walked her to the front gate, waved, and then turned to walk back inside. Dean was only halfway there when he heard his name being called. The hunter spun around, instantly on alert. That became confusion when he saw Krissy walking across the street towards him.

“Dean! Wait, please. I need to talk with you.”

“Krissy? What the hell are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?”

The teen girl blushed. “Uh, Jay was bragging a couple weeks ago that he got your address from the school records. He told it to me. He’s planning to toilet paper your house on Halloween… just a heads up.”

“Awesome.” Dean rolled his eyes. “But I doubt you came all this way to warn me about that.”

“No. I was just at the hospital. Trudy’s awake and… she’s not making much sense. You told me that I could come back to you if I found out any more information and that you’d help, right?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, she says that she knew what she was doing and wanted to stop but couldn’t. They tested her for drugs after she said that but found nothing and now are saying that she’s probably just having a breakdown after what happened to her. Look, you’re smart, do you know of anything that could do that to her?”

Dean shrugged. He thought that it was kinda funny that Krissy thought that he might be smarter than a team full of doctors. Of course in this particular case, he had more information than they did, so she was actually semi-right. “I don’t know. Maybe. You think maybe she’d talk to me without anyone else around.”

“If you’re with me and I say it’s okay, she should. She’s really scared and she wants answers.”

“Okay, just let me tell my parents.”

Dean headed back inside, hoping that between questioning the girl and looking through her home that they could find a suspect before any more people fell victim to this particularly nasty brand of witchcraft.


	130. Cursed

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty: Cursed 

They were almost at the hospital and Krissy found that she was having a hard time keeping her eyes on the road. She found that her gaze kept drifting to the passenger seat. The boy sitting there was hands down the most unusual kid she’d ever met. He was beyond intense and there was something in his eyes that reflected more than just ‘book intelligence’. It was almost like a look of experience. It was weird. Krissy had seen that look in her father’s eyes when he’d get all reminiscent about stuff that had happened to him in the war but that certainly couldn’t apply to Dean. Maybe it was just because of all the stuff the kid had gone through over the summer. After all, Krissy had never known anyone else that had been kidnapped before. Yet he seemed remarkably together and even kind of take charge. Nothing like the meek, nerdy little baby that all the upper classmen had been expecting when they’d heard of the young kid that was supposed to show up in their school. 

Then there was the fact that she had this feeling that he knew far more about what had happened than he was letting on. Sure, he seemed like he genuinely wanted to help (And seriously what was up with that? Who went around offering to help complete strangers? Especially complete strangers that used to date the guy that tried to beat you up on your first day of school!) but even if his motives weren’t questionable, his knowledge was. Dean was acting like he didn’t know any more than she did, but Krissy wasn’t buying it. There was something on his face that let her know that he was at least five steps ahead of everyone else. And used to being in that position.

But what really could be happening? The doctors said that it wasn’t drugs (and Trudy would _never_ do drugs anyways). And Trudy swore that it wasn’t an accident. So, what had happened? And why was Krissy driving around with a weird twelve year old that she barely knew trying to figure it all out? Sure Trudy was her best friend (even if Krissy herself was a lousy friend when she was in front of her other ‘popular’ friends) but she wasn’t a detective or anything so there was probably nothing that she could do. And furthermore, she was putting a lot of faith in Dean to help solve all of this (even if he _did_ seem to have some answers… whatever those might be). She really just should’ve gone to the mall or something today. Of course that would’ve been uncomfortable because her other friends had been treating her strange ever since she had broken up with Jay the asshole yesterday. Which in her book made them all assholes, but she still had to deal with them since most of them were all on the cheerleading squad and the school sports teams. Birds of feathers and all that.

She sighed and then realized that Dean was staring at her.

“You okay?” He asked.

“A lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Can I ask you something, Dean?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Your friend just got blinded. It would be pretty douchy of me to refuse you help if there was something that I could do.”

“And is there something that you can do?”

“Maybe.”

She sighed. “Maybe? Dean, you just seem to know something…”

“I have some theories maybe, but I need to talk to your friend before I say anything.”

“You don’t think that it was an accident though.” She made it a statement.

“Nope. But then neither do you. And you don’t think it’s drugs either.”

“So what else could it be?” Krissy questioned. “Like, I just watched something with my older brother about mind control and someone that used it to make people do stuff… you don’t think…” She felt foolish even suggesting it. That stuff only happened in movies and a kid as smart as Dean was going to think that she was your standard ditsy cheerleader for even bringing it up.

“Why? Do you think that there’s someone that would want to harm Trudy?”

Krissy blinked at his response in surprise. “You think that it could be mind control?”

“Not mind control, per say, but there _is_ a chance that someone could be targeting your friend and made her do what she did.”

“How?”

“Like I said, I need to talk to Trudy. But can you think of any enemies that she might have?”

“No. She’s a high school girl! We’re all high school kids! We don’t have enemies except for stupid stuff like bullying, or competition for homecoming queen, and lame things like that. Nothing worth blinding someone over. I mean, stuff like that just doesn’t happen to kids like us.” Right after the words left her mouth she remembered what had happened to Dean over the summer and bit her tongue. She cast him a side long glance and saw that he was looking right at her with that intense stare. For the first time she noticed a faded scar on the side of his face and saw that he was wearing a wrist brace under his jacket. “Well… uh, except for you. But I meant…”

“I know what you meant. But everyone thinks that that kind of crap can’t happen to them right up until it does. It’s called denial.”

“So, you really think that someone did this to her?”

“Well, the only other options are that this really was just an accident or that she intentionally harmed herself.”

Krissy looked over at Dean again. Yeah, he seemed far too calm for a small kid that was suggesting that someone somehow was making a teenage girl blind herself. But she tried to put that out of her mind and focus in his original question. “No. No, I don’t know of anyone that would want to harm her. But shouldn’t we go to the police if we suspect something like this?”

“Uh huh… and they’ll believe a word of this why?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Krissy conceded. _But why? Why is he right?_ Her brain asked insistently. This kid had an answer for everything. She’d first requested for his help thinking that, as one of the smarter kids in the school, he might have some information that others didn’t. But he didn’t just have information, he seemed to have experience in this kind of thing (whatever kind of ‘thing’ this was). Bringing him in on this would either turn out to be an excellent idea or a terrible one.

“So, what are the doctors saying about your friend? How is she?”

“What? Oh… well, Trudy’s eyes were burned by the chemicals and they say that she’s either going to be completely blind or at very best legally blind for life. Like, maybe she’ll see light or shadows but that’s it. It’ll depend on how much damage was done and how far down the scarring from the burns goes and all. I don’t really understand all of it.”

“That sucks. But hey, she’s got you to help her through, right?”

Krissy smiled somewhat sadly. “I think you overestimate my abilities to be a good friend.”

“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged. “You broke up with asshole yesterday ‘cause he was crap talking about your friend. Think that says a lot.”

“Awful wise for a kid, aren’t you?”

Dean favored her with a smirk. “Why, thank you.”

She shook her head as she pulled into the hospital parking garage. After pulling into an empty space, she got out, grabbed her purse, and locked the car. She dropped the keys in her designer bag and led the way to her friend’s room. Krissy really hoped that this strange little boy could actually help out.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean followed Krissy up to the ICU but slowed his pace as they neared the wing. It wasn’t the uncomfortable memories that were making him hesitate (although those were a bit unnerving) but the voices that were reaching his ears. They were discussing the dead girl found in the hall of the school that morning.

Of course they were. She’d been found right besides Trudy’s open locker, so of course the police would rush down here to interrogate the poor girl that had just gotten blinded the day before. Dean knew that he himself was here to question Trudy as well, but he needed to get to the bottom of this whole witchcraft thing before someone else got hurt and he wasn’t planning on pressing her for answers the way that he was certain the cops just had. Hell, they may have even tried to make it sound like she had something to do with the other girl’s suicide.

Dean listened closely. 

“… don’t care what she says. It’s a bit more than a coincidence that the girl killed herself right in front of Ms. Bates’s locker. Maybe we’re looking at some sort of suicide pact?”

“But Ms. Bates didn’t try to kill herself.”

“Maybe she meant to ingest the chemicals but chickened out at the last moment.”

Another voice joined in. “If the girls know each other better than this girl is letting on, perhaps they have a secret that is weighing on them and they’re breaking apart because of it.”

“We’ll look into both girls’ backgrounds.” 

Krissy looked down at Dean. “What are they talking about?”

And there was no way in hell that he was letting on that he knew all the details. Dean knew that Krissy was suspicious enough of him, but that really couldn’t be avoided if he wanted to help out. Still, he wasn’t giving her any reason to get more weirded out by him. So he just shrugged. “Not sure. Sounds like someone killed themselves.”

Krissy shuddered. “What’s going on? This is all just… it’s awful.”

“Yeah.” Dean agreed. “C’mon. Let’s go see your friend.”

When they entered the hospital room, Dean saw a brunette lying in the bed with her eyes bandaged up in thick white gauze. Her bed was propped up and she was shakily attempting to eat her food.

“Honey, please let me help you.” A woman with mostly grey hair offered.

“Mom, stop. I need to be able to do this myself.” The words were strong but her voice was so brittle that Dean felt instantly sorry for the girl.

“But honey…”

Krissy knocked on the doorway. “Excuse me… Trudy? Can I come in?”

The teen in the bed gave a small but real smile. “Krissy, you’re back.”

“Yeah. Hey, Mrs. Bates. Uh, can I talk to Trudy privately for a little bit?”

“No. I’m her mother and she needs me right now. Anything you need to say can be said…”

“Mom, go.” Trudy ordered. “I’ll be fine. Get some food and coffee and chill out a while.”

“But…”

“Go.”

Dean watched the older woman get up and reluctantly leave, giving Krissy an angry look and Dean a curious one as she passed. Once she was gone, Krissy and Dean entered the room, Dean closing the door behind them.

Trudy turned her head in their direction. “Krissy… the police were just here. They were asking me a bunch of questions but not about yesterday. Well, not all of them. They wanted to know… they were asking about Sheila. She… she killed herself. But she… she did it in the school right near my locker. My locker, Krissy! Why would she do that? God, they said she’d even opened it! Why? Why is all this happening?”

“I don’t know Trudy.” Krissy rushed to her friend’s bedside and wrapped the other girl in a hug. “But I’m trying to find out.”

“How? The police don’t even have any ideas. Not any good ones.”

“I have some help. Uh… do you remember hearing about Dean Winchester?”

“That twelve year old kid that’s in our school? Yeah. He’s supposed to be a genius or something. Skipped a couple grades. What does he have to do with this?”

“He’s here with me now. He really is smart and seems to be able to figure stuff out about what’s going on. _And_ he believes that what happened to you wasn’t an accident.”

“I didn’t try to hurt myself.” Trudy defended herself. 

“I know you didn’t.” Dean spoke up. “But I need you to answer all of my questions to the best of your abilities if you want help, okay?”

“Okay…” She sounded hesitant, but Dean really couldn’t blame her. 

“So, Krissy told me that you wanted to stop yourself but couldn’t…”

“Yeah. I know that it sounds crazy, but it felt like I was being controlled by someone or something. On one hand there was this overwhelming desire to mix those chemicals and splash them in my own face. But I really didn’t want to. I tried so hard to stop myself. But I couldn’t. Oh God!” The teenaged girl started to cry. “I’m just lucky that the test tube was so small because if there was more of that stuff it would’ve burned up my entire face. But still… it hurt so bad and now…”

Dean watched Krissy tighten her hold on Trudy and stroke the other girl’s hair comfortingly.

“When did you first feel that little voice telling you all that stuff?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I mean, I felt kind of off since right after my previous class but I didn’t start thinking that stuff until I started the experiment.”

“Did you go to your locker between classes?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I needed to grab my… wait. Why are you asking about my locker? Do you think this is connected with Sheila? I mean, she was at my locker when she… killed herself.”

“I know that you had nothing to do with her death, but how well did you know Sheila?”

“Not well anymore. I mean, we used to be friends back in grammar school, but we’re not in the same crowd anymore and she wants nothing to do with me. Not in school or out. Honestly, that’s okay with me. She was always an airhead and we weren’t really close so it was no big loss.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh! I didn’t mean her death! That’s tragic and terrible. I just meant that I didn’t mind not being friends with her.”

“No, I understood you.” Dean assured her. 

“You think she killed herself like I hurt myself… not wanting to?” Trudy wiped at her face as tears leaked down from under the bandages.

“Yes.” Dean replied. “Is there any reason that she’d be at your locker?”

“No. I… I can’t believe this happened to me. I can’t believe that any of this is happening.” She started again with the crying, this time full on sobbing.

“I’ll do what I can to figure this out.” Dean promised. “But for now I’ll leave you two alone for a moment.”

Dean stood in the waiting room for about ten minutes watching the colorful fish swim back and forth in the large tank that was set up there. He hadn’t gotten many answers that he didn’t already know. But what he did get confused him. Sheila hadn’t had any reason to be at the locker… so why was she there? Trudy confessed to feeling the affects of the spell (even if she didn’t know what it was) right away but it hadn’t taken control of her until quite a few minutes later, yet both Sheila and Dean had acted right in front of the locker. Was it because the hex bag was amplifying the affects after the first event? And since Sheila was somewhat connected to Trudy, was she an intended victim too, or just an accident? 

“Dean?”

He turned to see Krissy waiting for him. “Yeah?”

“You ready?”

“Yep, let’s go.”

When they got back to the car, Krissy pulled her keys out of her purse, unlocked the car and climbed in. She tossed the expensive-looking leather bag into the backseat before reaching over to unlock Dean’s door to let him in. Dean was a bit anxious to get home and see if his dad and Cas had found anything in their search of Trudy’s home. It was a bit weird being out without the angel for backup but he’d insisted that his friend go with his father just in case there were any other traces of witchcraft in the girl’s house.

Dean kept his gaze focused on the scenery outside his window but his mind wasn’t really there until he realized that nothing was looking familiar. This wasn’t the way back to his house.

“Uh… Krissy? I think you took a wrong turn.” He turned to look at the girl and saw that she was staring straight ahead out the windshield. The hunter briefly considered that she could be the witch and was trying to get him out of the way, but that just didn’t feel right. Besides, a witch would’ve just dropped him off at home with a hex bag in his pocket. 

Suddenly, the car started to speed up, going far past the speed limit of thirty miles per hour.

“Uh, Krissy… I’m not one to talk about driving safety but you should really slow down.”

The girl looked distressed but didn’t look away from her driving. That’s when Dean knew for certain. She was being controlled. Oh crap. 

“Dean…” She gasped out, tears spilling from her eyes.

He looked at her and then she swerved into the opposite lane. Dean turned his head and saw that on the previously empty side of the road was a huge tractor trailer truck barreling right towards them at full speed.


	131. Crash

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-One: Crash 

Ignoring the blaring horn and the pounding of his own heart, Dean reached over and jerked the steering wheel hard, forcing the car back into the right lane. The huge truck sped on by, barely missing the smaller car. But the boy had no time to be relieved because Krissy continued to turn the wheel to the right and the vehicle jumped the curb and headed straight for a telephone pole. 

“Crap, crap, crap…” Dean muttered. The best solution would be to stomp on the breaks, but there was no way that his short legs would reach the pedal. The hunter tried to steer the car away from the upcoming obstruction but didn’t quite succeed and the vehicle sideswiped the pole.

Dean was jerked forward against the seatbelt and then thrown back as he heard a scraping sound but the car kept driving; slowing only briefly and swerving a bit. Krissy, under the control of the spell was determined to crash the car. And the only ways to get her to stop (that didn’t include an angel) were to let her carry through with her plans or to find the hex bag that had affected her and destroy it. 

The boy looked around wildly. The girl had just started acting this way so hopefully the hex bag was in the car and not back at the hospital. Nothing on the dashboard or in the front of the car. He looked behind him but could see nothing in the backseat except a shopping bag and Krissy’s purse. The purse. She’d rummaged through it right before getting into the car. She could’ve touched a hex bag without ever knowing. Dean was about to unbuckle his seatbelt and make a grab for the purse when he felt the car speed up ever further. What was going on?

The young hunter looked back out the windshield just in time to see a parked delivery truck filling up his view. He reached out to turn the wheel but had no time to steer them completely away. The car slammed into the parked vehicle and Dean was thrown violently forward. He raised his arms to protect his face and head but only succeeded in slamming his still sometimes sore left arm into the dash. 

The car was still running but was making awful sounds and smoke was pouring from the hood when Dean raised his head back up. His head felt okay but his arm was throbbing inside its brace. He turned to look at Krissy and groaned at the pain in his neck. She was just picking her head up from where it was resting on the steering wheel. 

Dean wondered for a moment if everything was over now that she’d successfully crashed her car (and damn him for not being able to protect her) but then she shifted the vehicle into reverse and started backing the mangled car up. The boy was surprised that the twisted wreck was even moving, but then he saw that thanks to him turning the wheel at the last moment the crash hadn’t been quite as bad as it had felt. But the car was now shaking, and popping and chugging along at a snail’s pace. There was no way that it was going to get up enough speed to create another crash but all Krissy would have to do would be to drive into the oncoming lane again or drive off a bridge and she could still kill them both. 

Without another moment’s hesitation, Dean undid his seatbelt and climbed into the backseat. He undid the clasp on Krissy’s purse and poured out the contents. And there it was. A hex bag that was identical to the one found in Trudy’s locker. Dean pulled his lighter from his pocket and flicked it to life. He held the flame to the bag and watched it catch fire. His eyes widened as it burned a brilliant blue, the blaze lighting up the entire backseat and the heat practically scorching his body. He worried briefly that the car might erupt into a huge fireball. Then, within seconds, it was over. All that remained of the cursed item was a small pile of ashes.

The car stopped as Krissy must’ve pulled to the curb and applied the breaks. Dean leaned against the door and let out a sigh. Thank God that was over. He was never getting in a car with a teenage girl driver again.

“Dean? Dean, what… what just happened?”

“How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts. I hit it on the steering wheel. But… what happened. Oh God, it was exactly like Trudy said. I didn’t want to be doing that but I… I couldn’t stop myself. I just… And then the car crashed and I still… Oh god. And you… what happened back there? What did you do? There was that blue fire and then it all stopped. Please Dean, I need to know what happened.”

“Witchcraft.” He admitted. Hell, she’d been in the car, experienced the whole thing, had seen him burn the hex bag, there was no point in lying at this point. 

“Witch… No, that… that’s crazy.”

“Fine. You explain it.”

There was silence for a moment as Dean just kept his head against the glass of the window and tried not to move his sore neck. Then Krissy spoke up again in a much smaller voice. “Witchcraft is real?”

“Real enough to kill. Which brings me to my next question; did you feel like you should kill yourself while you were driving?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I don’t… I just felt a strong urge to crash the car and then when I did and I hit my head, something was telling me that I wasn’t hurt enough.”

“How hurt are you?”

“I have a bump on my head. It’s bleeding a little bit. And my neck and shoulder are sore. But I think I’ll be fine. Thanks to you. You… you saved my life, Dean.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“How? I mean, besides wrestling with me with the steering wheel. That was a life saver and all, but what did you do to stop the… the witchcraft? What was that fire?”

“You were placed under the spell by something called a hex bag. It’s a small bag that someone fills with certain items that are used to curse someone. I located the bag in your purse and burned it, which ended its affects.”

“So, if you weren’t in the car with me right now…”

“Don’t think about that. Concentrate on the fact that everything turned out mostly alright.” Dean thought over his words. “Except for the fact that you’ll probably have to get a new car. Might I suggest a classic?”

Krissy actually started to laugh. “There’s something wrong with you, you know that?”

“Yep.”

“And how do you know all this stuff?”

“Better you don’t know.” Dean suppressed a groan as he climbed back into the front seat. “You think this piece of crap will make it back to my house?”

“It seems to be sort of mobile.” She responded.

“Good.” He fastened his seatbelt and settled back for the bumpy ride.

“How the hell am I going to explain this accident when my parents get back?”

“Back?”

“Yeah… they’re on like, a fifth honeymoon or whatever. They go away on a ton of romantic getaways… at least once or twice a year. My brother and I used to stay with Grandma but now we’re old enough to stay home alone. Oh man, they’re going to kill me. I just got this car for my eighteen birthday three weeks ago. I mean, it’s not a new car, but still…”

“Well, you’re not dead, so…”

She sighed. “Yeah, they’ll be glad about that but still… what are we going to tell people, Dean? I mean, we can’t tell everyone that Trudy did this because of witchcraft. And I can’t use it as an excuse either. Nor can we say that Sheila’s suicide was a result of black magic. God, we’d be committed! But, we can’t let Trudy take the blame for what happened to her. If this goes down as an accident, it’ll ruin her chance of getting into college. She’ll be seen as a liability and never get accepted.”

Dean sighed. This was hard. Thinking back, he was used to riding into town, stopping whatever evil SOB was there and leaving. He didn’t deal with the aftermath. But this time he had to. The boy felt obligated to try and come up with a solution to help. “Well, first we have to find out who’s doing this and put a stop to it. Then I’ll come up with some kind of convincing story that’ll clear things up, okay?”

“You’d do that?”

“I’ve helped out this far, haven’t I?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you have. You know, you’re pretty cool, Dean.”

“Bet you say that to all the young guys that’ve saved your life from hex bags.”

Krissy laughed. “As of today, I guess I have.”

She pulled up in front of his house. 

“One thing I don’t understand though.” Dean started. “Do you know how that hex bag could’ve gotten into your purse? Do you carry it around in school?”

“No. It’s a gift from my aunt and it costs like a few hundred dollars. I’m terrified of losing it, so I never bring it to school. Actually, I threw it in the car this morning but didn’t use it until we got to the hospital. When I got here earlier to talk with you, I’d left it in the car and just carried my keys in my pocket.”

“So, you don’t carry it to school… so aside from today, when was the last time you used it?”

“Wednesday night. The cheerleading squad went out to the diner for a celebration. It was Jill’s eighteenth birthday and she was throwing herself a party there and another huge bash tonight at her house too. I’m not going to that one after everything that’s happened though. She’s a total bitch, anyhow. But I took it there. And before that I had it at the mall last weekend.”

“Did you reach into your bag on Wednesday?”

Krissy wrinkled her brow in concentration. “Uh, yeah, to pay for my food. But then we were there a bit longer, and I went to the girl’s room and took it with me, and we left soon after.”

“Did you keep your car keys in your bag?”

“No, I wasn’t driving. Sheila drove me and Sissy that night.”

Dean nodded. “Well, it’s unlikely the hex bag was in there before that night then, since you had your hands in the purse and probably would’ve come in contact with it at some point. But it could’ve been slipped in there later that night, after you paid and just now discovered. Or it could’ve happened just now at the hospital.”

“At the hospital? But I didn’t see anyone there that could’ve…”

“Whoever we’re dealing with is really tricky. I want you to think hard about who might have an issue with you and Trudy.”

“What about Sheila?”

“Her death may have been an accident. She wasn’t supposed to have been at the locker so there is a chance that she wasn’t supposed to have been a victim. But if you can think of anyone that might’ve targeted all three of you, that’s even better.” Dean reached into the backseat where he’d spilled out the contents of the purse and snatched up a small notebook and a pen. He flipped open to a page and scrawled out two phone numbers. “Here’s my home phone number and my cell phone number. Call if you think of anything or if you need anything.”

“Do you… do you think I’ll be safe?”

“You should be. This witch seems to just like using hex bags and they’re the type that you need to touch to activate. So just look before you reach for anything and you should be fine. Besides, the person responsible might not even know that they failed to hurt you yet. I’ll try to take care of this as soon as possible.”

“Okay. Thanks… you know, for everything.”

“No problem.”

Dean got out of the car and started walking towards his house. He sure hoped that his dad and Cas had found some helpful information at Trudy’s house because he wanted to figure out who was doing this and put a stop to it sooner rather than later. And at that moment the young hunter really had no solid theory to help him out.


	132. A Suspect

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Two: A Suspect 

Crap. That was all they had managed to find. John sighed as he shuffled through the pile of useless junk that he and Cas had collected from the teenage girl’s house. And really, he’d felt like a creep sneaking through her house to get the stuff. A grown man sneaking a peak into a teenager’s private world. Oh yeah, he could be labeled a pervert by anyone who found him there. Luckily, they’d gotten in, completed their search, and gotten out without being discovered. But that was apparently where their luck ended, because nothing they’d seen had seemed important in the least. They’d brought some things back to look through, in case Dean saw any significance in them or Missouri could sense anything from it when she stopped by later. Still, John was certain that the whole thing had been a huge waste of time. 

He heard a car that sounded like it was on its last leg pull up in front of the house and a minute later the front door opened and closed. Shuffling footsteps announced Dean’s entrance.

“Hey, Dad. Any luck?”

“Not of the good variety. You?”

“Worse than yours.”

John turned around and noticed that his son looked a bit ruffled and was cradling his left arm tightly against his chest. “What happened? I thought that you were just going to the hospital to question the first victim?”

“Then I ended up taking a car ride with the latest victim. We’re both okay… ish. But I really was hoping that we’d have a solid lead or something.”

“Let me see your arm, Dean.”

“It’s fine, Dad. Just sore.”

“You can’t screw around with this, buddy. You mess your arm up much more and you could cause permanent nerve damage.”

Dean sighed dramatically, but extended his left arm with a grimace. John took the boy’s jacket off carefully and then removed the brace. He prodded the slightly swollen limb with gentleness and was relieved to see that the damage didn’t appear to be too severe. 

“Let’s get some ice on this and sit back while we compare notes.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Downstairs. Sam insisted on more training, so your mom and Cas are showing him some stuff. He’s sure going to sleep well tonight.”

“Yeah…” Dean nodded and John caught a poorly hidden wince.

“How injured are you? And don’t sugar coat anything.”

“Just the arm thing and maybe a minor case of whiplash. Altogether, not bad.”

“Well, sit down and take it easy for a bit.” The father in him wanted to rush the boy to the ER, but too many hospital trips would look terribly suspicious. Even if this _was_ legitimately from a car accident. 

While Dean relaxed with an ice pack on his arm, the two of them went over what they had found out… or rather what they hadn’t found. Which seemed to be anything really useful. 

Dean sorted through the stuff that John had procured. He seemed unimpressed.

“So, no signs of witchcraft at all? And no threatening letters?”

“Nothing.”

Dean sighed. “Hello, square one. Good to see you again.”

There was a knock at the door and Dean went to get up but John gently placed his hand on the boy’s right shoulder to hold him in place. “It’s open!” He called. After all, they were expecting Missouri, anything supernatural couldn’t enter past their front gate, and everyone in their house from their twelve year old up could take out a random burglar without breaking a sweat. Keeping the door locked right then seemed pointless. 

When the psychic entered the room, John gestured to the stuff he’d collected. “What can you tell me about the people that own this stuff?”

“Well, John Winchester! Your manners are just as poor as your son’s! I can certainly see where he gets his rudeness from.”

John rolled his eyes and heard Dean snicker. “Hi, Missouri! How are you doing on this fine day?”

“You can save your sarcasm. And you boy,” She pointed to Dean. “You keep your thoughts to yourself. Now, step back and let me work.” After a moment she faced the Winchester men. “I can tell you that neither of the ladies that used these items ever came into contact with anything magical. Well, before Friday that is. The young lady that owns these items is a bit sad and very determined; a strong, independent girl. Her mother is controlling and bitter and somewhat depressive and I believe she has a problem with drugs. But nothing that you boys are looking into.”

John saw Dean looking through the items on the table. “Hey!” The boy exclaimed. “If I were to show you some pictures in the yearbook here, would you be able to get a read on some of the kids and see if it were one of them?”

“Now that would be a neat parlor trick, but no.”

Dean visibly deflated. “Well, I got a few suspects. I’m thinking that the hex bag must’ve been slipped into Krissy’s bag at the diner when she was there the other night. So that makes our witch a cheerleader. I’ll go through and make a list of the names and then Cas and I can scope out their houses tonight while they’re all at Jill’s party. If I don’t find anything, then I’ll have to find a way to get a peek in Jill’s house at some point. First though, I think I’ll sneak on over to Sheila’s house. The more I think about it, the more it bothers me that she was at Trudy’s locker. She had no reason to be there.”

“You’re thinking that the witch lured her there?” John suggested.

“She’s got a connection to both Krissy and Trudy so it would be too big of a coincidence for her death to be random. If she _was_ lured there, maybe there’s some evidence in her room or something.”

“Maybe.” John agreed. “But I think that I should go over there with Cas. You’ve been almost killed both times that you left the house today.”

“Third time’s the charm.” Dean said with a smirk.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, there’s a chance that the house might not be empty and I can move quieter because of my size and there will be more places for me to hide if need be. I’m the better choice here.”

John sighed. “Fine. But you’re going to explain all of this to your mom.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Explaining it to his mom and actually getting permission to go took far longer than Dean could’ve imagined. Especially after she’d discovered about the car accident. She’d fussed over his still aching arm and insisted that he rested it a bit more and stay to catch a bite to eat before leaving the house again. Dean had finally agreed, figuring that if he timed everything right that he could just go from Sheila’s house to the first of the cheerleader’s houses to begin his searches.   
He’d sat and made his list from the ‘club’ pages in the yearbook, then looked up all of their addresses in the phonebook. Sam had actually helped him out with that. The younger boy was thrilled that he was helping out with a real hunt. Dean decided to start with Melissa “Sissy’ Thorton, since she’d been in the car with Krissy and Sheila on the way back from the diner that night. That gave her a great opportunity to slip a hex bag into Krissy’s purse and hinted towards a possible close relationship with one or both of the girls. From there his list got a bit random. 

“Okay Dean, all done!” Sam announced proudly.

“Awesome.” Dean snatched the list and ruffled his brother’s hair. “Great job, Sammy.”

“Need anymore help?”

“Nope. Not right now.” Dean shrugged on his leather jacket and made certain that the protection bag that Missouri had made for him was safely in his jean’s pocket. “I’m heading out!” He called out. “C’mon Cas, let’s go.”

Cas placed a hand on his shoulder, looked at the first address on the list (Sheila’s) and Dean felt that odd, yet now very familiar feeling of the angel transportation system. Seconds later he was looking around what was clearly a teenage girl’s bedroom.

The walls were painted a light violet but were almost unseen underneath the various posters and photos that decorated them. A full sized bed was neatly made with more pillows than anyone would ever need and an assortment of stuffed animals that all held hearts in their furry hands. There was a large sized closet and a huge wardrobe. A white painted wooden desk sat before a small window with closed pink curtains. Dean spotted a large vanity with a round mirror decorated with assorted stickers all along the outside. Makeup and a brush sat out waiting for their owner who would never return to use them again. 

“What are we looking for?” Cas asked.

“Any indication that she could’ve been targeted and who might’ve had an issue with her.”

Cas nodded. “I’ll start with the closet.”

“I’ll check under the bed.”

There was nothing under the bed except a shoe box full of photos, a shoe box full of candy, a shoe box with some fortune cookie fortunes, a shoe box with what seemed to be a coin collection consisting mostly of pennies, and a shoe box with some old Barbie dolls. 

Next Dean went through Sheila’s desk. Pens, pencils, paper, stickers, pencil sharpener, highlighters, a ruler, a blank notebook, old report cards that were filled with mostly Cs and Ds (Dean wondered if they’d been brought home and dumped right into that drawer), and last year’s yearbook. 

With a sigh, Dean walked over to the vanity. He’d already noticed the makeup and hair care stuff on the top but there were a couple drawers in it that he had to check out. Still, he was beginning to lose hope of finding any clues. Really, what had he been hoping for? A huge note left behind saying ‘Got call from witch to meet her by locker. Name is: ...’

All such thoughts immediately flew from his mind when he pulled open the first drawer. 

“Cas! Come take a look at this.”

When the angel appeared at his side, Dean pointed down at the various objects in the drawer. He’d seen the stuff before. On his dining room table after Cas had dumped them out of the hex bag that had almost killed him. Except this time the stuff was in small baggies from shops or Ziploc bags. 

“It appears that Sheila is… _was_ the witch.” Cas pointed out the obvious.

“Yeah, but then why… she must’ve screwed up the hex. Freakin’ amateur bitch didn’t know what the hell she was doing.” Dean shook his head in disgust. “She had to have been going to Trudy’s locker to retrieve the bag, trying to collect evidence or something, and fell victim to her own stupidity.” He vividly recalled seeing her corpse lying in the hall, wrists slit, blood pooling around her. “Moron.”

Dean continued going through the drawers and saw more witchcraft crap. Some books, an unopened kit to make voodoo dolls, and more bags of ingredients. But then something caught his eye. 

The young hunter snatched up the package and read the label to make certain he was correct, then checked the drawer just to double check.

“Damn it!”

“What’s wrong, Dean.”

“This package. It’s for the bags that she filled with the crap that she used to curse Trudy and Krissy.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, according to the label, there should be three bags in here. It’s empty. Sheila made three hex bags before she died. We may have another intended victim somewhere out there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all enjoying...  
> In honor of Halloween, I'm going to start posting a separate story today called 'Season of the Soul Harvester'. I'll post one chapter each day (mon-fri) until Halloween! On Halloween, I'll post the final chapter of that along with a weechester oneshot 'The Winchester Rule of Trick or Treating' (and of course I'll still be posting this every day! Wow... I'll be busy!). Check them out if you're interested...


	133. Final Victim

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Three: Final Victim 

There was no time to waste. If Sheila had planted a hex bag on a third victim and that person hadn’t come in contact with it yet, it was only a matter of time before they would and there would be another ‘accident’. Dean knew that he couldn’t let that happen. But that meant that he needed to somehow find out who victim number three was. Maybe there’d be a clue or something in the room.

Dean started looking frantically through all the photographs tacked to the walls, hoping that there was something in them that would stick out. A group shot with three faces X-ed out would be nice…

“Cas, look around for a journal or diary or something.” He ordered as he pulled the shoe box of photos back out from under the bed. He started rummaging through them, but without a clue as to what to look for, all he was seeing was a bunch of smiling faces and vacation shots. With a sigh, he replaced the top and shoved the box back in place.

“She does not appear to keep a diary.”

“Crap.” Dean pulled open the desk drawer and took out Sheila’s copy of last year’s yearbook. He started flipping through it. Still no blacked out photos. Then he noticed a picture tucked into the pages. He pulled it out and looked at it. 

There were four girls about eight or nine years old sitting on a picnic table together. Two had blonde hair, two were brunettes. One blonde had long braided pigtails and had one arm around a dark haired girl with a baseball cap on. Dean was almost positive that those two were Krissy and Trudy. The other brunette had a lollipop in her mouth and was waving to the camera. Sheila. The fourth girl had her hair cut in an almost boyish style and was sitting behind Sheila with her chin on the other girl’s shoulder and her tongue sticking out. All four were dressed in bright shorts and tank tops and looked to be happy. Dean turned the picture over. Written in pen was ‘Sheila, Erin, Trudy, Krissy: Best of Friends For Life! 1982’ Then in a much newer red pen ‘-1991’ had been added. 

Dean pulled out his cell phone and the piece of paper where he’d written down Krissy’s number. He quickly dialed.

“Hello?”

“Krissy? This is Dean.”

“Dean? What’s going on?”

“Who’s Erin?”

“Erin? She’s a friend of mine.”

“A cheerleader?”

“No. She got into softball and track and stuff. She always teases me that cheerleading is for girls. It’s an old joke. Why are you… is she in danger?”

“I think so. Is she at home?”

“Yeah, but you can’t go there right now.”

“Why not?”

“That’s where the huge party is tonight. She’s Jill’s twin sister.” There was a pause. “Dean, how do you… why do you think she’s in danger.”

“You four were a group when you were kids.” Dean responded, knowing that she would know who he was talking about.

“Yeah, but that was a long time ago.”

“What happened?”

“Why is that important?”

“Krissy…”

She sighed. “Fine. We were all kind of… tomboys in grade school and got teased quite a bit. So, the summer before middle school we made a pact that we’d start school and be different. Pretty. We all showed up in skirts, with our hair done up, and we tried out for cheerleading and did all that girly stuff. Sheila and I found that we liked it, but Erin was miserable and Trudy drifted away from it because she was such a bookworm that studies became her thing. Sheila got pissed at the other two, reminding them of our pact but they didn’t care and I tried to keep the peace but… it just all fell apart and we started to drift apart, sort of. I mean, I’m still friends with all of them in one way or another. Trudy and I hang out all the time outside of school, but she hates my crowd there and they don’t accept her. Erin and Trudy still get along fine and I’m still friends with Erin too, but Sheila calls Erin a boy with boobs. I try to be nice to Sheila but she can be a bit bitchy at points. I mean she _could be_. God, I can’t believe she’s dead. Everything just got so messed up, Dean. Sometimes I wish that we had just ignored all the name calling back then and stayed friends. And now someone is targeting us?”

“Was.” Dean corrected. “Someone was targeting you. She’s dead now.”

“What? The witchcraft person is dead! But how is that…” Then there was silence and Dean could almost hear the pieces as they clicked into place. “No. No, she was a victim…”

“Of her own magic. She went back to Trudy’s locker to retrieve the bag and fell under the spell that she herself had cast. She was screwing around with stuff that she didn’t know enough about.”

“No… she couldn’t have. I mean, I know she was pissed at us, but why…”

“Did anything happen recently that could’ve caused her to resent…”

“Oh god! Yes. She was flunking out, Dean. She was going to lose her place on the team. She may have even had to repeat senior year and the day she found out was the same day that Trudy told me she got an early acceptance letter from some prestigious college. Sheila overheard and was sending us dirty looks. But to think that she would…”

“She did. I’m in her bedroom right now and there’s all kinds of witchcraft crap and a picture of you guys and… I’m sorry, Krissy. I know this must be hard but we gotta concentrate on saving Erin right now. Shelia put a bag in Trudy’s locker and one in your purse. Where would she get a chance to sneak one to Erin in the past few days?”

“Her house. She was over there yesterday to help bring stuff over for the party for Jill.”

“I have to get over there now. Is there a back way in? Some way that none of the party goers will see me and I can get up to Erin’s room without being noticed?”

“Yeah, but the only problem will be that Erin will be in her room. She and her sister don’t get along. Not only was Erin not invited to the party, but she wouldn’t have gone if she was invited.” There was a momentary pause and then she continued. “I only live a few minutes walking distance away. If you can get there, I’ll meet you there and we can go up together.”

Dean really didn’t want to put Krissy in any more danger, but he couldn’t think of how he’d explain his presence to Erin in a way that’d make sense. “Fine. See you there.”

After taking the ‘angel express’ to the right location, Dean stood outside the large, mansion-like house and listened to the loud music playing. He caught glimpses of teens dancing inside, and occasionally one would stumble out the front door to puke in the bushes. Gross. By eighteen he could hold his liquor much better than that. 

With a sigh, the young hunter started to circle around the house. The place was actually larger than it had first appeared. Dean’s eyes widened as he took in the four level building with its arches, fancy architecture, balconies, large windows, and huge garage that could probably hold up to six cars.

“Meanwhile, back at stately Wayne Manor…” Dean mumbled under his breath. 

But all the money in the world wasn’t going to protect this family from witchcraft. Still, Dean was glad that Krissy was coming to help him out because if he got caught sneaking around inside, these people would certainly press charges. Besides, he had no clue as to where to start to look for Erin.

Okay, now he did. As Dean was looking up, he saw a teenage girl walk out onto one of the balconies on the third floor. Unlike the partygoers that Dean had noticed earlier, she wasn’t dressed in a cheerleader outfit or a short, skimpy skirt, but was wearing a pair of jeans and a baseball jersey. And she had short, spiky blonde hair. Definitely Erin. 

As Dean watched, the teen walked slowly, almost hesitantly towards the edge of the balcony. He was too far away to see her face but her entire posture was just wrong. This wasn’t a girl going out for a breath of fresh air. The young hunter knew in that moment that he’d arrived too late. Erin was already affected. She’d come out to jump.

“Cas, get me up there.”

A moment later, Dean was standing behind the girl as she continued with her journey to the low railing. Her hands grasped it and in a quick motion that screamed ‘athlete’ Erin went to leap over the edge. Dean darted forwards and grabbed onto her shirt to pull her back. Luckily, she was on the petite side and hadn’t gotten more than half of her body over the edge so her weight didn’t just pull them both over to their possible deaths. Instead, they crashed to the floor of the balcony with the teenager lying on top of the smaller boy. 

Dean grunted and tried to wiggle out from under the girl so that he could get to his feet first and be ready for her next attempt. He’d learned with Krissy that it wasn’t over until the hex bag was destroyed. 

Erin rolled off of him and turned to stare at the boy that had just saved her. Dean scrambled to his feet and offered her a weak smile. He knew that Cas was there with him, but was invisible so that the teen couldn’t see him.

“Bag.” Dean muttered under his breath, knowing that the angel would hear and understand that Dean was asking him to locate and retrieve the hex bag. They couldn’t help Erin without it. Cas couldn’t even cleanse the magic from her because, when he’d done that to Dean, he’d had the bag to channel the spell back into. 

Erin’s eyes slid back to the edge of the balcony and Dean let out a groan. He really didn’t want to go through this again. But he saw the fear and desperation in the poor girl’s eyes and knew that he’d wrestle with her all night if that was what it took to keep her safe. Saving people was what hunters did, after all.

Then the teen was running towards the railing and Dean slid down on the ground and tackled her legs. She went down hard as he rolled out of the way and tried to get to his feet. Erin practically sprung up and pushed him backwards. Dean’s back collided with the railing. He closed his eyes against the pain that radiated out from where he’d hurt his neck earlier in the car accident. Man, today had just sucked.

When he reopened his eyes, Erin was right next to him, trying to climb over the railing. Dean jumped onto her back and flung his weight backwards, dropping them both back to the balcony floor. But damn, did that hurt!

This time, when Erin rolled off of him, Dean moved a bit slower getting to his feet. He was sore and tired and his neck and left arm were killing him. But the hunter forced himself to his feet. The teenager was standing and staring at something to his right. Dean glanced over and saw Krissy climbing up using a huge rose trellis.

“She’s affected, Krissy. She’s trying to jump.”

“What do you need me to do?” 

Dean eyed both girls. Krissy was taller than Erin and both girls appeared to be in good shape athletically. 

“Don’t let her jump. I’m going to get rid of the hex bag.” 

Dean waited until Krissy had gotten close to her friend before he took off towards the bedroom. With any luck, Cas had already found the bag or had already ruled out most of the hiding spots and it’d be easy to locate now. Dean just hoped that he’d made the right decision and hadn’t condemned both girls to severe injury or death.


	134. It’s Over

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Four: It’s Over 

This just could not possibly be happening. Not for real. This was the kind of stuff that happened in the creepy, sometimes corny horror films that her brother, Peter, loved and often forced her to watch with him. But Krissy lived in the real world, not a horror movie. So, why exactly was she standing on the balcony of her friend’s house trying to prevent said-friend from jumping while the girl was under the influence of witchcraft, while a twelve year old who knew way too much about this kind of stuff rummaged through the bedroom to destroy a hex bag? Because apparently in one day, the entire world had decided that horror movies were in fact real and everything Krissy knew was actually just a big joke. She really just wanted to have a nervous breakdown right about now, but then Erin would either die or end up possibly paralyzed or something from a fall like that. She couldn’t let another of her friends face a terrible fate. So, she had to just suck it up and deal with the fact that magic was real and she made a promise that she’d allow herself a freak out later. 

Krissy wondered if she should bother talking to Erin. She knew that it wouldn’t make a difference what she said. Her friend had no control over her own actions, so pleading with her wouldn’t work. But maybe comforting would make her feel a bit better.

“It’s okay, Erin. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself. I know what’s going on. I know you can’t stop this but that boy over there, he can fix this. He helped me earlier and he’ll make all of this okay and until he does, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Please…” Erin managed to get out before she sprinted towards the edge of the balcony.

Krissy ran forward and tackled her friend only a foot away from the railing. They both fell down and landed in a tangle of limbs. Erin tried to get up but Krissy held her down. Of the two, the short haired girl was probably stronger (even though Krissy would never admit to that considering that they constantly had mock-arguments over which was more physically challenging; cheerleading or softball. _Waving pompoms in the air isn’t that hard and is definitely not a real sport. ‘Oh, and waving a large stick at a ball is?’_ ). Still the cheerleader was certain that she could keep her friend pinned down long enough to keep her safe. 

But Erin was struggling frantically against her. Krissy remembered that single-minded determination to do something awful that you really, really did not want to do. And the longer you were held back from doing it, the more insistent that voice in your head got that you just _had_ to do it. Krissy would bet that her friend had reached that really desperate stage judging by how hard she was fighting. But Erin’s eyes were filled with tears and Krissy knew that the girl was scared. She recalled how terrified she’d been in the car when she thought she was going to drive right into the oncoming truck. But Dean had saved her life. And now she had to help the boy do the same for Erin.

Suddenly, Erin brought her head up right into Krissy’s face. The cheerleader felt blood fill her mouth as her tooth cut the inside of her cheek and her lip split. On reflex, she brought her hands up to her injury and the other girl scrambled out from under her. Krissy instantly forgot the pain and blood and rushed to follow. 

She caught up to Erin as the shorter girl had already swung one leg over the railing and it took all of her strength to stop her friend from completing the horrible act. Krissy wrapped her arms around Erin’s torso, right under her breasts and tried to pull her back onto the safety of the balcony. But the other girl had one leg placed on the other side of the railing now and was using it to push against the posts and try to break free of Krissy’s hold. 

It seemed like forever that the two were locked in this battle before the cheerleader realized that her arms were starting to slip. Her muscles were tiring and she was losing her grip. Krissy wondered if she should call out for Dean, but dismissed that idea. The smaller boy probably couldn’t even reach to grab Erin in the position that they were in. Besides, he needed to be where he was. Trying to end all of this for good. But that left her here alone, to struggle against her own weakness to keep someone else’s life safe. No pressure…

Then from the corner of her eye, she saw a bright blue flame. Yes! But still, she held on tight.

“Krissy? What… Oh God! Help… please, get me back up there!” Erin’s voice was filled with panic. 

Krissy somehow found some hidden reserve of strength and helped to drag her friend back over the railing and onto the firm ground of the balcony. The poor girl was shaking badly and tears were spilling down her cheeks.

“It’s okay.” Krissy soothed, even though talking kind of hurt since her mouth was killing her from the multiple cuts it had received. “It’s all over now.”

“But… what… I don’t understand. I was trying to… Oh God, I didn’t want to.”

“I know. It was…” Krissy bit her lip as she considered what to say, then hissed at the pain. Well, the truth had worked when Dean had told it. “It was witchcraft. I know it sounds crazy, but think about it; something was controlling your actions. The same thing happened to me earlier. Made me crash my car. And… and Trudy…”

“But it can’t…”

“It’s real. I can tell you the whole thing later but for now… I’m just so glad that you’re alright.” She threw her arms around her friend and held her close.

She felt Erin lift her head up. “Who’s that?”

Krissy knew exactly who her friend was referring to, but she pulled back from the hug and turned to look anyhow. Dean was standing there looking at the two of them. He looked tired but satisfied. She knew the feeling.

“Dean Winchester. That young genius kid from our school. He’s the one that knew about how to stop all this witchcraft stuff. He saved my life earlier today and he came here to help.” Krissy stood up, pulling Erin to her feet with her, and turned her attention to the boy. “It’s all over now, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean responded. “You were the only targets and from what I saw only three bags were made and they’re all gone now. You’re both safe.”

“Thank you.” 

“Not a problem.”

“How did you get here so fast?”

Dean shrugged. “I had help. But that’s not important right now. What _is_ is that you don’t tell anyone about this.”

“What?” Erin questioned. 

“You barely believe it.” Krissy answered. “We tell anyone else, with no real proof, and we’ll spend the next few years in a white padded room.”

“I guess you’re right.” It was obvious that Erin hadn’t really processed any of this. And she had yet to be told about Sheila. Krissy wondered how the three of them that were left were going to get past this.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Watching the two teen girls hug and cry and comfort each other as he stood in the doorway was getting a bit awkward. But he couldn’t go down through the house and walk past the party and leaving by invisible angel would cause a bit of a stir. So, the young hunter waited until both girls had gotten to their feet and were a bit more together before walking out and heading to where he’d seen Krissy climb up. 

“You’re leaving?” That was asked by Krissy.

“It’s over. I don’t think you girls need a strange, although strikingly handsome, preteen expert on weird crap anymore.”

Surprisingly, both of the teenagers laughed.

“I… I don’t really understand what happened here,” Erin started. “But thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiled. “And don’t worry, Krissy. I’ll be in contact by tomorrow with an idea about what to tell people about all this.” He already had some ideas but needed to work them out and get some information. Maybe Cas could get him into the locked up library before they headed home.

“Do you need a ride?” Krissy offered. “I live close by and if my brother’s home he can…”

“Nope. I got help close by. But thanks for the offer.”

“Thanks again for everything, Dean.”

“Yeah, just… don’t spread it around that I know about this kind of crap, okay?”

Krissy laughed, and it sounded somewhat hysterical. Yeah, shock was probably not too far away. “Right, because I’m going to be talking about stuff like this to everyone.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

Dean swung his leg over the railing, grabbed onto the trellis, and climbed down.

Once out of sight, he instructed Cas to start taking him on what turned out to be a long string of errands. Dean was never so happy to have a cell phone so he could at least let his parents know that he was alright and would be home soon.

When Dean got home long after midnight, he collapsed into his bed and fell asleep just as he felt the angel’s hand touch his forehead.

The next day he woke to find Sam in his bedroom again. Dean blinked a few times and then groaned. He snatched up his pillow and threw it at the smaller boy.

“Hey!”

“Go ‘way.”

“Can we train more, Dean!” Sam asked much too cheerfully, before plopping the pillow down on the older brother’s head.

“Later. Got stuff to do.”

“Can I help?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause it’s just some errands and lame crap like that.”

“Oh.” Sam sat down on his bed as soon as Cas stood. “You were out late.”

“Yep.”

“Did you get the witch?”

“It’s over.”

“Awesome!”

Dean laughed. “Now get out so I can get dressed, short stuff.”

Once his little brother had left and Cas was facing away, Dean shed his clothes from the day before and pulled on new underwear, jeans, and a ‘Black Sabbath’ tee. Then he grabbed his already filled pack and turned to the angel.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Their first stop was Krissy’s house, as she would believe him the most easily. He rang the bell. When the teen girl answered the door, he gave her his most charming smile.

“Hey.”

“Dean? What are you doing here?”

“I have an idea. But I need your help. Do you have a water bottle that you carry around with you?”

“Yeah, all the cheerleaders and athletes get them.”

“Great. I need to see it.” Dean glanced past her into the house. “You alone?”

“Yeah, my brother’s with his girlfriend.”

“Perfect. Can I come in?”

Once inside, Krissy went and got the red plastic water bottle with the school mascot printed on the side without even being asked. Dean filled it with water and told her to take a drink. She eyed him a little strangely, but did as instructed. Then Dean took a small vial from his pack and poured a small amount of its contents into the remaining water. Then the boy shook the bottle.

“I’m not drinking that now.” Krissy told him.

“Good. I wouldn’t advise it at all.”

“What did you put in there?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s a drug. Well, a homemade version of one anyway. It screws with a person’s head and would have a similar effect to what Trudy described to the doctors. People have killed themselves on this junk.”

Krissy made a face. “So, you’re making it look like Trudy and I were drugged? But the doctors tested her…”

“Yeah, the next day. This stuff doesn’t last in the system that long.”

“Your knowledge on this really scares me, Dean.”

Dean laughed. “I use my powers for good, don’t worry. Anyway, I’ll get some of this in something that Trudy used too. I want you to report the car accident yesterday, but don’t mention me. And say that you felt out of control until you got home and passed out on your bed. You slept straight through until this morning, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Think you can pull this off?”

“Yeah.” She sounded sure enough, and any hesitation she might show later would be attributed to shock.

“Okay, we’ll also need to plant some in Erin’s house but she’ll be the lucky one that ‘didn’t get affected’.”

“Why is that… you’re going to blame it on Sheila.”

“Already have. I planted vials of the drug in her house with the photo that led me to find out about the three of you being targets in the first place. The cops will be searching there since she killed herself for any evidence that maybe she was drugged too and they’ll find that she was the one responsible.”

“Dean…”

“I know she was a friend, Krissy, but she did all this. We need someone to take the blame, and if you don’t want it to be you and Trudy, it has to be the person truly responsible.”

Krissy bit her already split lip. “Okay.” She replied in a quiet voice.

Dean nodded. “I have to go finish this quickly. Good luck.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’ll be okay.”

Dean knew that that was a false promise. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever realized the impact that these cases took on the victims that survived. On the other hand, he had to wonder how this had all played out last time around, when he’d been travelling with his father and was so far away from Lawrence. Trudy would still be blind, but would have no cover story for why. Sheila would still be dead, no change there. But Krissy would’ve crashed her car into that semi and who knows what condition that would’ve left her in and Erin would’ve jumped from the balcony. And those hex bags… who knows what kind of damage they would’ve caused before someone finally showed up to take care of them or they got lost or destroyed. So yeah, the aftermath was rough, but things turned out far better than they could’ve. Dean held onto that thought as he left the house to finish up the clean up for the case.


	135. Training Day

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Five: Training Day 

The shot of an airgun rang out again and Bobby heard Dean yell out another praise to his younger brother. The hunter shook his head in amusement and took a drink of his beer as he turned the page of the old book he was currently leafing through. Those boys had been at it for about an hour already and the older boy had complimented or teased the other with every practice shot. It was kind of funny since Bobby recalled when Dean himself had used that very same converted airgun. Of course, that little guy hadn’t needed an ounce of practice; he’d had a previous lifetime of that, combined with what appeared to be a natural talent for handling weapons.

Bobby sighed as he closed his book a bit harder than necessary. Probably not a good thing to do with a relic so goddamn old, and Bobby would chew the ear off anyone else that handled the thing like that, but he was beyond frustrated. He really wanted to be out there with the boys but no, here he was stuck in this stuffy room on a nice spring Saturday afternoon researching for a hunter that was a complete jackass and would most likely not last much longer anyways. 

Another shot.

“C’mon, Sammy, I can shoot better than that with my eyes closed!” Dean’s voice held no bite to it, despite the words, and the air rang out with laughter from them both.

“Yeah, but that’s only ‘cause you’re some kinda freak.”

Another shot.

“Ha! Looks like you’re trying to join me with freak status, Sammy-boy, ‘cause that shot was totally amazing!”

“I got it! Dean, did you see that?”

“Already said I did. Now stop bragging and take down the next.”

Bobby smirked at the two of them. He’d give this damned research twenty more minutes and then he was going to fix those boys some lunch. 

John, Mary, and Cas had left the two kids with him for the day (with stuff for overnight, just in case) and took off to work some hunt on the west coast. It wasn’t a big job and would most certainly be wrapped up before the boys’ stay became a sleepover, but it was the first time that Bobby had been left with both of the Winchester children. Dean had always gone with his parents and the angel, but Sam had practically begged his brother to stay with him since the boy had promised to teach the younger brother to shoot that weekend. The lesson couldn’t be rescheduled since the following weekend was Sam’s birthday, the weekend after that Bobby was traveling for a job, and Sam didn’t want to wait until whenever it was that the hunter was going to be getting back. Singer Salvage was the perfect, out of the way place for target practice. So, in the end, Dean had given in and agreed to sit this one hunt out. After all, it was a simple salt and burn that his dad had taken care of on his own the first time around. Sure it had taken a few days and John had ended up with a concussion and a few stitches, but this time they had more info and were prepared. ‘Course, they were Winchesters, so you never knew what was going to happen…

A few minutes later (but not the twenty he’d promised himself that he’d work further), Bobby got up from his desk and walked into his kitchen. There he pulled two cold sodas out of the fridge and took a look at the lunchmeats that were pushed to the back. Nope, not gonna serve that spoiled crap to the boys. He snatched up the bucket of fried chicken and carried it over to his table. The hunter quickly cut meat off the larger breast portions and placed it on three poppy seed hard rolls. Then he cooked up some bacon to toss on the top along with a generous helping of mayo and some pickles. A handful of potato chips on each plate finished off the lunches.

Bobby started for the entrance when he heard a truck pull up in front and almost as soon as the engine was off there was the sound of badly oiled hinges squeaking and then a slam of the vehicle’s door. He groaned. The last thing that he wanted to do was deal with a customer right now. Or worse, another hunter that didn’t know his rawhead from his rugaru. 

Bobby was only a couple of feet away from his front door when it swung open, nearly hitting him.

“Goddammit! Ya ever hear of knockin’!” He cried out as a familiar person stepped in.

“Nice to see you too, but no time for pleasantries.”

“As if you’re even pleasant.” Bobby muttered, before taking his flask of holy water from his pocket and dowsing Rufus with its contents.

The other hunter sent him a pissed look. “Every time? I don’t need your baptizing each time I visit, Singer.”

“Well, I figured that maybe this time I’d luck out and you’d be possessed and I’d have a reason to shoot yer ass.”

“Can the sweet talk. I got a problem.”

Right. ‘Cause when didn’t he?

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam’s arms were beginning to get really sore but he didn’t want to complain. If he complained then Dean would suggest that they stop and Sam really didn’t want to stop. Not only was learning to shoot a really useful skill but it was kind of fun too. Dean had set up all kinds of junk for targets and they’d even painted scary faces on some of them to make them into ‘monsters’. That was Sam’s idea. It had been months since the youngest of the Winchesters had begun his training and this was the first time he had got a chance to practice with a weapon. He knew that Dean had used real guns by this age, but he was content with the airgun. After all, Sam didn’t want to go out hunting with the family; he just didn’t want to be a victim of the creatures that were after them. 

“You’re doing great, Sammy. But you gotta pay attention. You just fired twice after running out of ammo. As soon as you’re out, you reload. Don’t waste any time.”

“Okay, got it.” Sam nodded. He knew that he wasn’t concentrating as well as he should be mostly because he was thinking about how awesome this whole day was. Just him and Dean hanging out and training at Bobby’s. They had learned the basics with the airgun and done target practice and after lunch Dean was going to play ‘hunt and seek’ with him out in the yard. That was a game where the brothers split up and tried to get the drop on each other. Dean always won, but Sam still loved the training game. Later on, Bobby would teach them stuff from his extensive library. Yeah, today was going to be perfect!

“Okay, then… one, two, three… reload!”

Sam did as instructed and then raised the weapon. “Ready!”

Dean looked down at his stopwatch. “Awesome. Beat your last record!”

The younger brother beamed with pride. “Bet I can hit more targets than last time too!”

“Let’s see if we can take ‘em all out.” Dean pulled his own gun from where he’d shoved it in the back of the waistband of his jeans.

Sam did some quick math. He’d have to improve his score by about fifteen percent and Dean would have to make every shot if they wanted to hit all the remaining ‘monsters’. “We can do it.” 

Dean grinned. 

Sam aimed, squeezed the trigger, and hit a ‘vampire’ hubcap with a BB. He had no time to celebrate as Dean put a hole in a ‘demon’ beer can. They continued on taking shots, Sam with his allotted ammo and Dean with his. When they were done, they were left with only one painted whiskey bottle standing. Sam made a face. He’d really wanted to clear them all out. He saw that Dean had caught on to his disappointment and watched as his brother took out a knife and threw it. The bottle smashed.

“That’s cheating, Dean.”

“Never said we only had to use guns. Lesson for the day; when the monsters are attacking, you use whatever weapons you got.”

“So we won?”

“We won.”

“Yes!” Sam put down the gun and thrust his arms up into the air.

Dean suddenly tackled him to the ground and seconds later the two boys were playfully wrestling. Sam rolled onto his older brother, pinning his arms over his head. He knew that Dean had allowed him to perform the move and that the hunter could easily turn the tables if he wanted, but this wasn’t training, it was just them having fun and Dean always let him win when they were just goofing off.

“Okay bitch, you win.”

“I _always_ win, jerk. You need more practice.”

In a swift move, Dean threw Sam off and sprang to his feet, pulling the smaller boy up with him. Sam was trapped in one of Dean’s arms as the older child used his other hand to ruffle his hair somewhat roughly. 

“ _Who_ needs more practice, Sammy?”

Sam giggled. “You do.”

Dean stopped with the hair ruffling and started to tickle Sam’s collarbone. Oh man, this wasn’t going to end well. “Who?”

“You!”

Dean moved his hand down to the armpit. “Who?”

“You?”

Dean started mercilessly tickling Sam’s side. “Who?”

Sam could barely breathe he was laughing so hard but he managed to gasp out one word to make the torture stop. “Me!”

“Good.” Dean stopped tickling him and let him go. “Now that we understand each other, let’s clean up this crap. Bobby’ll be coming soon to call us in for lunch.”

Sam got control of his breathing and looked around. “Do we gotta pick up all this stuff? I mean this place is a wreck already. Would a bit more trash on the ground really make a difference?”

“ _You_ take that up with Bobby.”

“No thanks.”

“Thought so. But let me clean up the glass, ‘kay?”

“Yep. Hey Dean, after lunch, when we come back out, do you think we could…”

“Shhh… quiet, Sammy.”

“What?”

“I heard something.”

“Bobby?”

“Nope.” Dean hissed. “It came from the car stacks back there.”

“An animal?”

“Probably. But let’s head back to the house. We’ll come back after lunch to clean up.”

Sam saw the look of concern on his brother’s face and didn’t question him any further. With more than a little bit of nervousness, he picked up his airgun and started off side by side with Dean back towards Bobby’s house.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

“What’d ya do this time, ya idjit?”

“I took a job that was s’possed to be a simple hunt. All signs pointed to ghouls. Things were chowing down on corpses and the occasional live person and taking their shape. So, no biggie, right. I go in, find them both, pull out my machete and take the head clean off them both.”

“So problem solved. What went wrong? Ya underestimate their numbers?”

“Nope. There were only the two. Only they weren’t ghouls. See, I get ready to leave and one of the headless bodies… it stands back up.”

“What?”

“Yep, that’s what I was thinking. Then all thoughts disappear, ‘cause flesh and bone starts to grow back from where I cut off the head. I didn’t stick around to see the whole event, but best guess is that within a couple minutes that thing had itself a brand new ugly ass head.”

“I ain’t never heard of anything like that.”

“You and me both.”

Bobby shook his head. “So you came here for research help?”

“I coulda called for that. I came ‘cause your place is the safest place I could think to hide out in.”

“Hide out?” Bobby got a sick feeling.

“Yeah. I got back to my motel room and wasn’t too long ‘fore I realized those things were following me. Attacked my ass right there. Been on me the last four days. Can’t lose those freaks. I came here hoping for help to make a stand and see if you had any bright ideas to finish them for good.”

“They’re followin’ you now? Ya mean that they could be here any second?” Bobby thought about the two boys out back in the maze of broken down cars and junk.

“Any second? I reckon that they’re probably here by now already.” 

“Balls!”


	136. Don’t Die

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Six: Don’t Die

It hadn’t been an animal that they’d heard. Dean was certain of that. Whoever or whatever had made those noises out in the stack of old cars was much too large and had certainly been walking on two feet if the sound of the footsteps was any indicator. But the young hunter saw no reason to completely panic his brother by confessing that either an unknown person or a creature had made it into Bobby’s salvage yard. No, the best plan was to get Sam inside the house and alert Bobby to the situation. Then they could get the smaller boy safely into the panic room and the two hunters could go check out the disturbance. 

They had just rounded the piles of cars and junk and the porch came into view when Dean caught sight of some movement around a beat-up looking truck. The truck hadn’t been there when they’d come outside. And as they stepped closer, Dean saw that the movement was from a person dressed in beat-up, torn clothing with dirt caked all over both their outfit and their skin. Dean slowed his pace and grabbed onto Sam’s arm. Sure the person could just be a hunter with slightly worse hygiene habits than most, but something about the dude was setting off every single alarm bell that Dean possessed. 

The young hunter was very relieved that he’d insisted that both him and Sam had reloaded their weapons before starting back for the house, but he really hoped that they didn’t end up in a fight. His little brother was _not_ ready for that. So, praying that he was just being paranoid, Dean cautiously proceeded towards the front porch. 

The boys got a few feet closer when the ratty looking guy spun towards them and narrowed his eyes. Then a rather creepy grin spread across his face. Dean halted and tightened his grip on Sam. The guy walked around the truck with fluid motions that didn’t seem human and Dean immediately started calculating their chances of making it into the house if they just took off running. His conclusion came down to two words; not good. So he immediately came up with plan B; get Sam some place relatively safe, gank whatever was staring at them as if they were lunch, then retrieve Sam and go inside to ask Bobby why the hell there was a fugly creeping around his junkyard.

Plan in mind, Dean took a step backwards and whispered to Sam. “On three, we turn and run. One…”

Just then, the guy (thing… whatever) dropped to a crouch and practically skittered right at them on all fours, its eyes flashing a creepy gold color. 

“Three!” Dean yelled and they turned and ran. The hunter held his brother’s hand tightly in his left hand and clutched his gun in his right. He had no clue what the thing following him was, or if bullets would work on it, but any weapon was better than no weapon. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

The two boys ran side by side through the salvage yard, Dean looking around frantically for a place to hide his little brother. But a second later, that very same little brother was ripped from his grasp. 

“No!” Dean cried out.

“Dean!” Sam yelled.

Dean spun around and saw the man-shaped thing crouched down, pinning his little brother to the ground. The whatever-it-was lowered its head and bit down on Sam’s lower leg.

“Ahhhh!” Sam screamed in pain. 

“Let him go, you bitch!” Dean shouted and fired a bullet into the top of the creature’s head. 

The thing fell back and away from the boy. Dean darted forward, firing twice more; once into the thing’s face and once into its heart. Then he had reached Sam and the young hunter had no more time to fight the creature. Getting his brother away from the thing was much more important. Dean reached down and yanked the smaller boy to his feet. Sam was still holding the airgun, yet somehow managed to pull the older Winchester into a hug. Dean patted his back comfortingly.

“You okay?”

“It hurts, Dean. But I think I’m okay.”

“Good, ‘cause we gotta keep running.”

“But you shot it.”

“Don’t know if that’ll kill it, Sammy.” As he was saying that, Dean cast a glance over to the thing on the ground. The thing that had blood on it, but not a single wound. “Now, Sammy! We need to run now!”

This time they were a bit slower and more awkward, since Sam was limping a bit and leaning on Dean. The older brother was still desperately trying to find some place to stash the smaller child to keep him safe. Especially now that he knew that this thing wanted to eat them and couldn’t be killed by bullets. 

There. Dean risked a quick glimpse behind them to make certain that the creature wasn’t there and wouldn’t see where he was going to have Sam hide. He tugged his brother over to the side, where there was a large semi-stable looking stack of cars. After taking one last look around, Dean held Sam by his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“I’m going to get you into that second car up. I’ll lift you and you climb into the open window. The car’s a bit crushed, but you’ll fit just fine. Keep low and stay out of sight. And don’t come out of hiding for anything. I mean it, Sammy. Stay in hiding until either me or Bobby comes to get you out, ‘kay?”

“But what ‘bout you, Dean?” Sam looked like he was almost in tears.

“I’m gonna find a way to kill that thing.”

“You mentioned Bobby. Is that ‘cause you think that thing might…”

“Sam, we don’t have time for this. C’mon, I need to get you in there where you’ll be safe.”

“Dean…”

“Please, Sammy.” Dean pleaded.

“’Kay, Dean.”

Dean knelt down and cupped his hands together. Sam stepped on them and Dean lifted him up high enough for his younger brother to throw his airgun in and then grab onto the car and scramble through the open window. The boy dropped out of sight and then his face reappeared a moment later. 

“Get down, Sammy. And remember to stay hidden.”

“Please don’t die, Dean.” 

“Everything will be okay, Sammy.” Dean offered him a crooked smile and once the younger boy had ducked down, Dean turned and ran away from the stack of cars. 

Dean didn’t want to go too far away. He needed to stay where he could see Sam’s hiding spot. The hunter had no clue what the monster’s abilities were, but if the thing was able to sniff Sam out and went for the kid, Dean would need to be able to protect him. But he wanted to put some distance between them to act as a distraction. So he ran quite a few yards and then came to a stop. He heard some noise but didn’t see anything yet. 

A quick glance around revealed something that might actually be very useful to a hunter that just found out that bullets were worth crap. He darted forward and snatched the sharp looking piece of metal up off of the ground. It was probably a piece of a bumper or something like that (God only knew at this point) but now it was just an almost three foot weapon. The boy hissed as the jagged piece cut his fingers. He dropped it to the ground and tore off his over-shirt. As quick as possible, Dean wrapped the article of clothing around one end of the metal and the lifted his make-shift weapon once again.

Now the young hunter was ready to make his stand.

“Come and get it, you asshole!”

He heard the sound again. But this time, it was from behind him. Dean spun around and his eyes widened. He knew that the creature he was facing was the same type of thing that they’d run from but it wasn’t the same one; the tattered clothes were different, its facial features weren’t the same, and the hair was black instead of brown. 

Dean could’ve kicked himself. Of course there was more than one. He’d heard something out by their target practice spot and then seen the creature by the truck but hadn’t heard anything follow them.

“Son of a bitch!” He growled out.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Bobby went to pull the door open to run out to the boys when Rufus grabbed him.

“What are you doing?”

“I gotta get out there.”

“Why? You got yourself a death wish? I mean, a worse one than most hunters carry around with them?”

Bobby spun around and jerked his arm free from Rufus’s grasp. “No, ya idjit, but you went and led deadly monsters right to my doorstep!”

“And that’s why we’re safer staying inside and _off_ your doorstep.”

“But I got two young boys out there in the yard that ain’t got a clue what crap you just brought down on them.”

The other hunter looked shocked. “Young boys? What the hell, Singer? This is hunter central, not a daycare! What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I didn’t know anyone stupid enough to lead monsters right to me. Guess I was wrong.” Booby spat back at him. “Now I gotta go get them before your regenerating ghouls can snack on them.” He knew that Dean would protect Sam but if even decapitation couldn’t kill these freaks, then their guns would most likely be completely useless.

“How? You planning on wrestling them with your bare hands?”

Bobby then realized that his friend was right. He had no weapons at all. But just then he heard Sam cry out in pain and Dean yelling something in the distance, followed by three gunshots. Damn it all, he had to do something. 

The hunter rushed back into his house and looked around for the best weapon. He knew from Rufus’s story that decapitation wasn’t a permanent solution, but as his eyes fell on a discarded machete he considered the plan of hacking the things to pieces to slow them down enough to rescue Sam and Dean. But then he also spotted his shotgun and ammo. Why be forced to get close to something to chop it to pieces when you can stand back and blow it into pieces? In the end, Bobby grabbed both and fled back to the front door.

“Those won’t kill…”

“I know. I’m not brain dead like some of us. But I just need to slow them down enough to get those boys to safety.”

“I hate to say it Singer, but from what we heard, there’s a chance that those kids are already monster chow.”

“You say that again and I open this door, push you out, and ring the dinner bell, ya hear? The older boy may be young be he’s a damn good hunter. I take it ya didn’t miss the sound of those gunshots? That’s proof that Dean’s taking care of the situation ‘til I can get there.”

“Bullets ain’t worth… wait; did you say Dean? Not that kid that the other hunters are all talking about? The little guy that somehow takes out all manner of creature, demons included? I’d written the whole thing off as a hunter tall tale.”

“The stories ya heard probably don’t cover half of it. But he and his kid brother are out there with no real weapon that’ll work against these things. So, ya want the machete? The shotgun’s all mine.”

After a moment, Rufus snatched the weapon from Bobby’s hand. Bobby took a deep breath and opened the front door. All seemed quiet. He stepped outside and looked around, holding the shotgun at the ready. He felt Rufus’s presence behind him and to the right as he walked onto the porch and approached the stairs. So far, so good. Now to find the boys. 

But before he could begin to descend the steps, what looked like a crazed homeless person came out of nowhere, running on all fours in a weird galloping sort of motion. It leapt the entire set of stairs and knocked Bobby flat on his back. Their rescue operation had just been postponed…


	137. To Pieces

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Seven: To Pieces 

Keeping an ear out for any sounds that might indicate that the other creature could be nearby, Dean held his makeshift weapon in both hands and stood waiting for the thing to attack. He didn’t dare take the offensive after seeing how quickly the monster could move. If he charged and it dodged his attack and made a counter, then the fight would be over before it began. So, the small hunter just stood there, holding his ground. 

He didn’t have to wait long. The creature charged and when it was almost upon him, Dean swung his blade with all his strength. The thing noticed the weapon and threw its arms up, whether as a defensive gesture or to make a grab for the blade, the hunter wasn’t sure. But the result was the same; the sharp edge didn’t meet with the monster’s throat like Dean had planned, but instead chopped off the thing’s right hand at the wrist. The boy thought up about a million Star Wars jokes, but decided that they’d be lost on the creature, so instead he saved up his energy to take another swing. Dismemberment wasn’t an easy task, and it was especially difficult for a thirteen year old body to pull off. If the metal wasn’t so damned sharp, the job would be impossible.

Dean raised the weapon and swung again, but this time the creature moved back and the young hunter’s move wasn’t as forceful, so the blow only cut partway into its torso. Damn. The thing jumped back, wrenching the makeshift blade right out of Dean’s hands. The weapon must’ve gotten stuck in its ribs. Damn again.

The creature, which had remained oddly silent throughout the entire encounter, reached up with its left hand and ripped the metal piece out of its body. Blood flowed out of the wound, but Dean’s eyes strayed from that to the thing’s stump. The bone was growing. It was slow but it was happening right before him; white matter reproducing then forming into a shape that had to be the beginnings of a hand. Then muscles and tendons also grew, wrapping their way up the newly formed bone. Before Dean’s brain could even process this, skin covered the gory sight. Son of a bitch… how the hell do you kill something that can regrow whatever you cut off? And could it regrow a head if decapitated? Not that it’d matter if Dean couldn’t get his weapon back. And as the monster tossed the blade a few yards away, that possibility looked pretty unlikely.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

He knew that he was supposed to stay down and keep out of sight, but Sam just couldn’t lie there and not keep an eye on his brother. He had this fear that he’d stay there until Bobby called for him only to poke his head out and find Dean’s torn up and bloody body discarded on the ground. Then again, watching his brother get ripped to pieces or eaten by the monster probably wasn’t going to be much better…

Sam’s eyes widened and he felt like cheering as Dean sliced the creature’s hand off. He immediately though of the lightsaber sequences in Star Wars and wished that Dean was close enough to make jokes to. Oh well, maybe later. Then Dean stabbed the blade into the creature’s side and it jumped back, taking the hunter’s weapon with it. No! Dean needed that! 

Sam watched as the thing yanked out the blade and threw it away. But Dean seemed to be focused on something else. What could he… Oh! The lopped off hand was half grown back! It had a palm and a thumb already. But how?

Then he stopped thinking about it when the monster jumped onto his big brother. Dean let out a shout and they both hit the ground. The boy was struggling to push the creature back away from him and wiggle out from under it, but the much larger body had him pinned. Sam gasped as Dean let out a strangled yelp when the thing bit into his shoulder. Yeah, the younger child knew how much that hurt. But he’d had his brother to rescue him from being eaten alive. Dean was alone out there. Dean was dead for sure. Unless…

Sam lifted his airgun and took aim at the monster. But then he hesitated. Sure, it wasn’t _that_ far away and the creature made a much bigger target than some of the junk that Dean had lined up for him to practice with, but it was a _moving_ target and Dean was there too. If Sam missed, he could hit his brother. On the other hand, his ammo was just BBs and at this distance, unless he hit him in the eye or punctured his throat or something, any hit on Dean most likely wouldn’t be lethal. Yet being eaten by that thing definitely would be. 

All hesitation gone, Sam took the first shot.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

_Ignore the pain ignore the pain ignore the pain ignore the pain ignore the pain_

It became a sort of mantra in Dean’s head as the monster bit deep into his shoulder. The hunter felt it start to lift its head and knew that it’d take a huge chunk of his flesh with it. No, nope, not happening. Dean reached up and tried to hold the creature’s head in place so that it couldn’t tear his skin and meat off of his body. But the pain was blinding and his left arm wasn’t working so good due to the teeth buried in that shoulder. He wasn’t going to win this fight.

Crack! A shot rang out and the creature released Dean and lifted its head. The young hunter scrambled out from under the monster, biting back a moan as he put weight on the injured arm. _Suck it up, Winchester. You’ll need to use that arm to chop this bitch to pieces, so get used to the pain and stop your whining._

Another shot echoed and Dean saw a blood spot blossom on the creature’s cheek. Scanning, he located one on its neck as well. And he recognized the sound of the weapon. An airgun. Sam was the one firing. Damn kid hadn’t listened to orders to stay down. Another shot. This time, something behind them was hit. A fourth shot took out the monster’s right eye just as it had turned to face the direction of the younger brother’s hiding spot. The creature fell to the ground. 

“Stay!” Dean yelled, knowing that it wouldn’t be a kill shot and not wanting Sam to come out and risk getting injured further or killed.

The hunter got to his feet and retrieved his weapon. Then he returned to the thing’s body and raised the blade just as it started to stir. He swung the sharp metal down and cleaved its head off. Then he proceeded to chop off its legs and arms as well. Dean figured that the more things that the monster had to grow back, the longer it would take it to be mobile again. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Well, this crapfest hadn’t turned out a damned thing like it was supposed to. Rufus had gone to Bobby hoping to find a temporary sanctuary, some help with research, and then a trustworthy hunting buddy. Instead, he may have doomed two young boys, and now was going out once again to face those things unprepared. Total FUBAR job if there ever was one.

They had just barely stepped out the front door and onto the porch when one of the creatures jumped on Bobby. Rufus moved forward and kicked the bastard in the head, knocking the monster off of his friend. The thing sprang up again, and the hunter swung the machete. It jumped back and the blade just skimmed across its chest. Yeah, that’d heal in less than a minute.

Bobby was back on his feet in no time and aimed his gun, but the thing snatched the weapon from the other hunter’s hands. Or tried to. Bobby was nothing if not stubborn and wouldn’t let go. Rufus wanted to laugh at the sight of his buddy and the monster locked in a tug of war game over a shotgun, but instead he took the opportunity to swing his blade once again. The machete hacked both of the creature’s arms off at the elbows. Bobby stumbled back as the opposing force suddenly disappeared.

Rufus stepped forward to finish off (temporarily at least) the monster, but it turned and ran. Bobby aimed the gun, but the thing ducked behind the truck and was gone. Rufus went to follow, even though he was certain that the creature would continue to evade until it was healed, when Bobby grabbed his arm.

“Leave it. We gotta get to the boys.”

Rufus nodded, although he wasn’t so certain that the kids would still be alive. And if they were dead, then he was as good as dead. He wasn’t sure what those boys were to Bobby, but he’d seen the protectiveness in the man and didn’t want to cross him over them.

The two men took off running and then heard the crack of a gun. It didn’t sound like a regular gun. Maybe a BB gun? If the children were fighting one of these things with a BB gun, they wouldn’t last much longer. 

He kept that opinion up until they turned a corner of car piles and he saw a boy that was just about entering his teen years hacking the hell out of one of the monsters with a sharp piece of broken metal. He had blood splattered on his clothes and there was what seemed to be a bleeding wound on his shoulder, but he kept going until the thing was in six pieces. Then the boy dropped his makeshift weapon and slumped exhausted to his knees. 

“Dean!” Bobby yelled, and sped up even further.

The boy looked up. “Bobby! What the freakin’ hell is going on?”

“Rufus came to visit and brought a party with him. Where’s Sam?”

“Little sniper boy is hiding. I gotta go get him.”

Bobby helped the boy up. “Where?”

“This way.” Dean spared a glance his way and Rufus caught the unhappy glare. Then the two went over to a stack of cars while Rufus kept watch for the other monster. “Sammy, it’s safe now. You can come out.”

A younger boy climbed out, holding an airgun in one hand. Bobby helped him to the ground. The boy’s leg was obviously injured, but he didn’t seem to notice as he lunged forward and wrapped the older boy in a hug.

“Dean! I thought it was gonna eat you!”

“Nope, I’m okay. Thanks, Sammy.”

“Hey, you saved me first.”

“That’s what brothers do, right?”

“Right.”

“Well ain't this sweet.” Booby commented. “But we gotta git inside before we’re all monster chow.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Rufus!” Dean yelled over.

“Hey, I didn’t know Singer Salvage was a daycare now.” He defended.

“We don’t need daycare.” Sammy shot back. “Dean’s a hunter and I’m here training!”

“Let’s argue inside.” Bobby suggested.

They all started back towards the front door. But they were only halfway there when the creature that had attacked Bobby and him jumped out of no where. Rufus got ready to attack with the machete and he saw Dean place himself in front of his little brother. But then a loud shot rang out. Oh yeah, Bobby still had the shotgun.

The creature’s head practically blew up and rained down all around. Their group watched its body hit the ground and then stepped past it to get back to the house.


	138. Carne Comedor

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Eight: Carne Comedor

Once the front door was closed and locked (and would that actually do a damned thing to hold back those creatures?), Dean turned to the two older hunters.

“So guys, what are those things and how do we gank ‘em? ‘Cause bullets and dismemberment don’t seem to be cutting it.”

Sam laughed. “Actually, you did ‘cut it’, Dean.”

“You’re hilarious, Sammy.” But Dean actually smiled at him, pleased that his little brother could joke about the situation. 

“Don’t know.” Bobby admitted. “Rufus here came for help ‘cause he didn’t know how to keep ‘em down. I was thinkin’ maybe fire?”

“Well, if we’re trying that, we better be right, ‘cause I don’t want flaming creatures trying to chew on my ass.” Dean commented.

“Fire doesn’t work.” Rufus cut in. “I tried, but the damned things’ bones don’t burn and then the rest just grows on back.”

“Perfect.” Dean muttered.

“So, are those creatures gonna stay out there waitin’ fer us to go back out, or are they gonna break inta my home lookin’ ta munch on us?” Bobby wanted to know.

Rufus shrugged. “Don’t know. Mostly they seem to wait for a good opportunity to strike, but they’re more than capable of breaking through windows.”

“Awesome. Anything else we should know? Any special powers besides the whole unkillable thing?”

“They’re really fast. But I don’t think they’re any stronger than the average adult guy.”

“Oh great, so we’re just dealing with super fast indestructible monsters that eat human flesh. No biggie.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Seriously Rufus, if I die because of this, I’m going to haunt your ass forever. You won’t even be able to take a crap in peace because I’ll be right there, turning on faucets and unrolling your toilet paper.”

“There’s an image I needed in my head.” Bobby muttered. “Look we can all threaten Rufus once we gather up a bunch of research materials and haul ass down to the panic room.”

With a plan in mind, all four of them ran into Bobby’s study and started grabbing any books that they thought might help. Dean and Sam emptied out their over-night bags that they’d brought and started stuffing them full of books. Once they had everything they could fit in their bags and carry in their hands (yet still be able to hold onto their weapons) the group took off downstairs to Bobby’s safe hideaway in his basement. 

It was a bit different than the one he’d built in the previous timeline, but just as secure. When everyone was inside and the door was closed and locked, Dean finally allowed himself to sit down and take a breath. Well, half a breath, before he remembered that Sam had been injured.

“Bobby, grab the first aid kit. Sammy got his leg bit and we need to get it cleaned out and bandaged.”

“You got hurt too, Dean.” Sam spoke up.

“I’ll be fine.” He insisted.

“You’re both getting looked at.” The older hunter insisted. “Rufus can start the research while I get you boys taken care of.”

Dean wanted to argue that he could take care of both Sam and himself, that he wasn’t even really a ‘boy’ but was in fact a man, but couldn’t say anything like that with both Sam and Rufus in the room. So, he just made a face and sat down on one of the cots in the room. 

Bobby started on Sam’s leg, which was already looking red and swollen. Dean knew that bites and scratches from supernatural creatures were likely to get infected a helluva lot more quickly and sometimes much worse than normal wounds. He watched as the older hunter treated the bite and he grabbed his little brother’s hand. The smaller boy squeezed tightly and yelped at the pain.

“It looks bad. I’m not gonna lose my leg or nothing, am I?”

“You’ll be fine.” Bobby assured him.

“I’m not gonna turn into one of those things, right? I mean, they’re not like werewolves, right?”

“Nah,” Rufus answered. “I got myself bit on the arm and I’m still normal.”

“Says you.” Dean shot back.

Sam giggled. Dean was glad that he got his brother’s mind off of the injury. Once it was cleaned out, Bobby wrapped it up and then turned his attention to Dean. The young hunter struggled out of his shirt to give the man a better look at the wound. It was a bit messier than Sam’s because of the fact that the monster had tried to rip the flesh off before it had been stopped, but otherwise it was almost identical. Bobby cleaned and dressed it and then took care of the cut on Dean’s hand as well. Dean smiled as he realized that his little brother was still holding his hand, trying to offer support just as the older boy had earlier.

Once they were patched up and Dean had put his shirt back on, they opened their bags and pulled out the books that they’d packed in them earlier. Dean grabbed one and started leafing through it, not even sure what he was looking for. Maybe a picture that looked like the things that had tried to eat them. Or a line typed in bold face print that said **creature that regenerates body parts**. Either one of those would be helpful, but were extremely unlikely. So, he was left skimming pages and eliminating everything that obviously didn’t fit the things that they had faced. Which was everything that he was reading about. 

After a while, Sam spoke up. “Uh, I was thinking; everything about these creatures except the regrowing body parts thing is a ghoul trait, right?”

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed. “But because of that, we know that it ain’t ghouls.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause ghouls don’t do that.”

“None that we know of.” Sam corrected. “But from what I’m seeing here, there’s a whole bunch of different legends about them. Arabian myth puts them as desert dwellers that seduce their prey, yet later on, other cultures say they feed on corpses. Some cultures say they shapeshift into animals, while the ones we know take the form of people after they consume them.”

Rufus shrugged. “So, some people are morons and get their details wrong. It’s called superstition.”

“Maybe.” Sam nodded. “Or maybe there’s more than one species, or race, of ghouls. That would also account for the differences.”

“That’s your theory?” The hunter asked dismissively.

“It makes sense.” Sam argued. “I mean, think about people. There are more than one race of humans. If you’d only ever met white Europeans and then met Rufus here, you wouldn’t know what you were looking at.” Then his eyes went wide. “I, uh… I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not racist or anything.”

Bobby laughed. 

Dean smirked. “No one that meets Rufus knows what the hell they’re lookin’ at. But seriously, you’re sayin’ that there might be other… what subspecies of monster out there?”

“Maybe the only reason that we don’t know about the Asian vampires is because we’ve never been to Asia.” Sam reasoned. “We might be dismissing the reports as other creatures or human murderers because they don’t fit the patterns that we’re used to.”

“Interesting theory.” Bobby conceded. “So, I give it to you. You look up all the ghoul myths and see if any match this. We’ll keep looking up other angles.”

Sam nodded.

Dean hoped that someone found something soon, because he was getting bored flipping through the pages, looking at creatures that didn’t fit the description. After a few moments, he let out a snort of laughter.

“Hey, did you guys know that there’s a supposed creature in Japan that haunts public restrooms and offs people if they request certain colored toilet paper? Dude, I’m not makin’ this up.”

“Focus, Dean.” Bobby scolded.

The young hunter rolled his eyes, but got back to work. What he really wanted to do was to chew Rufus out for bringing these dangerous things down on them while Sam was here (even if the hunter couldn’t possibly have known about the boy), but there’d be plenty of time for that once the day had been saved.

“I got it!” Sam cried out after a little time had passed. 

“What you got?”

“Carcomdor.”

“What?” Dean questioned.

“It’s a South American ghoul legend from many years ago.” Sam explained. “The name ‘carcomdor’ is actually a shortened version of ‘carne comedor’, which is Portuguese for ‘flesh eater’. According to the myth, the carcomdor would crawl around in the graveyards, eating freshly buried corpses, but would also attack and eat any mourners that would come by. They like to take the form of their victims to disguise themselves, but you could always tell that they weren’t the same people because the carcomdors wouldn’t bathe or change their clothes.”

“Sounds like our guys.” Dean admitted. “Does it say how to kill them?”

“Uh…” Sam skimmed the page quickly. “Ah, here we go. The carcomdor survived being shot, beheaded, burned, crushed, and dipped in boiling tar. Ewww. Finally one was captured, chained, and trapped in a casket of a body it had consumed and left there for over a month.” Sam looked up, excitement written all over his young face. “It starved to death!”

“So we gotta trap these things somewhere where they’ll starve?” Dean asked. “Awesome.”

“That’s _if_ the little kid is right.” Rufus cut in.

“You’re just pissed that an almost nine year old figured out a problem that had you stumped.” Dean shot back. “Everything fits. I say we come up with a plan and go finish these things off.”

“I agree.” Bobby seconded.

Rufus sighed. “Fine. But I’m never telling anyone that I went on a hunt with two midgets.”

“That’s alright.” Dean agreed. “’Cause I don’t wanna admit I was on a hunt with you either.”

“If you two are done, let’s figure this out.” Bobby ordered.

Dean nodded. Yet coming up with a plan wasn’t all that easy. Sure, discovering the enemy’s weakness was a great step forward, but they didn’t have any chains or caskets readily available. But after some brainstorming, Bobby suggested an old chest freezer that no longer worked that he had out back and a heavy duty metal cabinet in his garage. There were some chains and ropes in the garage as well, but getting to everything would be a problem, as would quickly removing the pull out shelves from the cabinet to store the creature in. And, they’d have to move the cabinet out back so that no potential customers would hear any noises or smell anything coming from inside.

“Okay Sammy, you did good with the whole saving my life thing and the research, but I need you to stay put now, okay? Please, I need to know that you’re safe in here.” Dean pleaded.

Sam nodded. “Okay Dean, just please be careful.” He hugged the taller boy. 

Dean turned to the others. “Okay, I can’t help move anything ‘cause of my size, but I’ll provide cover.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Bobby nodded.

Dean grabbed the shotgun (he was getting the best weapon since he was lookout) and followed the two older hunters to the door. It made a terrible screeching noise as it opened, almost as if it was protesting them leaving the safety that the panic room offered. But it couldn’t be helped. Break time was over; it was time to finish this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In addition to this and 'Season of the Soul Harvester', I also posted a one-shot episode tag to 'Soul Survivor' today. It's called 'Issues of Abandonment'. Check it out if you're interested!


	139. Blood and Gore

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Nine: Blood and Gore 

Dean wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved that the carcomdors hadn’t broken into Bobby’s house. On the one hand, it allowed them to make their way upstairs and to the front door without being attacked, but the lack of excitement made the young hunter nervous. It meant that the monsters were lurking outside, regenerating, getting stronger, and preparing to strike. 

They went out onto the porch single file; Bobby first, then Rufus, and Dean bringing up the rear. Rufus had wanted to place the smallest member in the center for protection, but Dean had pointed out that the dark-skinned hunter had the machete and thus couldn’t take point or cover position. Besides, there was no way in hell that Dean needed protection.

Once down the steps, Dean turned around and walked backwards. He swept the shotgun around, trying to see everywhere and keeping his ear out for any sound. Still, there was nothing. But he knew that the carcomdors hadn’t given up. They’d followed Rufus this far. They weren’t going anywhere until they’d had their meal. 

As they were making their way towards the garage, Dean did make one observation. The body of the carcomdor that Bobby had shot was gone. There was a bloody smear and some left behind parts, but the main body was gone. And as Dean watched, the parts were slowly dissolving into a gory mess. Oh yeah, he was glad that he hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch before all of this had started. 

“They’re up and moving.” He alerted the others. It only made sense that if the second one that had been disposed of was on the move, that the first was as well. 

Still, nothing had happened by the time that they reached the garage and Dean was beginning to feel severely uneasy. The two older hunters entered and Dean stood by the entrance to guard. He heard them make a quick sweep of the place and confirm that it was clear. Not good. Where the hell were the creatures and what were they waiting for?

“Damn, Singer, you just had to have the heaviest piece of crap cabinet you could find, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry, Rufus. Is it too heavy for your delicate hands? Next time I’ll make one out of tin foil and we’ll see how well it contains the mess you bring down on us.”

“You ever gonna stop blaming me?”

“Nope.”

“Good to know.”

“Children!” Dean called. “Quit your arguing before I send you both to your rooms.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re comin’.” Bobby shot back. 

Dean heard their slow and heavy footsteps making their way towards him. While it would be a much quicker route to go through the back, there was only a regular sized door that way and the cabinet was a bit too wide to fit. So they’d have to go through the front garage doors and circle around back. Then they’d lay it down near the freezer, make sure both were open, and then worry about restraining the creatures… probably only after mutilating them a bit, and getting them inside the containers. Easy as pie. Yeah, pie sounded good… well, except for the slightly queasy stomach Dean still had.

Once they were close to him, Dean started to lead them out, but he didn’t get far before one of the carcomdors suddenly dropped down off of the roof of the garage and landed right in front of him. Dean jumped back and pulled the trigger on his shotgun. But between his surprise and the creature’s fast movements, he only succeeded in blowing the thing’s right arm off. The hunter immediately took aim again, ignoring the pain in his left shoulder, but the carcomdor skittered off somewhat lopsidedly and disappeared around the same side of the garage that they were headed in. Well, Dean would just have to get it later.

“C’mon.” He ordered the others and set off again, this time not only watching all around the ground but keeping an eye out for anything on the roof as well.

They were almost to the back when he heard something from behind. Dean spun around.

“Down!” 

Bobby and Rufus dropped the cabinet and crouched down as the smaller hunter raised his weapon and fired. The carcomdor with two arms was midair and almost on top of Bobby when the blast hit it square in the chest and it flew into pieces. 

The older hunters got to their feet and lifted the cabinet back up with twin groans of effort. Dean caught a brief glimpse of shocked respect in Rufus’s eyes before he turned to continue to lead their party where they were headed.

Dean could tell that Bobby and Rufus were glad to lay their heavy burden down when they reached the chest freezer. Dean had no clue where his old friend had gotten the freezer from, but it was obvious that the cabinet wasn’t store bought and the boy had a feeling that in a few months once the monster was dead Bobby would be sterilizing the heavy duty piece completely so that he could move it back into his shop to use once more. Dean himself was never touching the thing again.

“I’m going to go grab the chains and ropes.” Bobby announced, pulling his shotgun from where he’d temporarily stored it in the cabinet. “You two retrieve the body of the one that Dean killed.”

“You’ll be okay?” Dean asked.

“Yep. I been a hunter a long time, boy. I got this.” Bobby ruffled Dean’s hair and headed off.

Rufus snatched up the machete and Dean led the way back to the bloody ruins of the thing he’d shot. Up close it was even more nauseating than he’d thought. The head and upper part of the torso was intact, as was one arm, but the lower half and two-thirds of the other arm were completely gone. Dark red gore lay all over the ground along with bone shards, but the bone was dissolving. Yet, on the body itself, Dean could see that the carcomdor was starting to regenerate the parts that were gone. 

“Well, I’m too small to carry that, so it’s up to you, big guy.” Dean stated.

“You’re taking advantage of your size whenever it comes in handy, aren’t you?” Rufus accused.

“Don’t know what you mean.” Dean gave him a smirk.

Rufus rolled his eyes, but bent down to lift up the nasty remains of the monster.

Dean covered them as they made their way back. He had a feeling that the other would show up when it realized what was planned for its buddy, if not before then. 

Rufus dropped the thing right next to the freezer and took up position next to it, with his blade held at the ready, just in case it decided to try and move while it was regenerating. Dean kept scanning the area. He smiled as he heard the sound of rattling chains, indicating that Bobby was heading their way. But his smile disappeared when the second carcomdor skittered out from behind a pile of scrap and flung itself right at Rufus. Dean tried to get a good shot at it, but couldn’t without hitting the other hunter. 

“Rufus, down!”

But this time, instead of immediately listening, the older hunter spun around to see what Dean was staring at. Rufus swung the machete and managed to slice off a few of the creature’s fingers on the thing’s remaining hand but it didn’t stop it. The carcomdor still plowed into the hunter and knocked him to the ground. Dean didn’t dare use the shotgun at this point, but he pulled out his handgun and took careful aim. His first shot hit the monster’s head but the thing ignored it and bit down on Rufus’s arm. The hunter grunted in pain and tried to fight the creature off. Dean shot again with the same results. Damn. He saw that the carcomdor had moved its mouth up to try and take a bite out of the older hunter’s neck. Oh hell, no.

Dean dropped the gun and ran forward. He kicked the creature in the throat and it stopped what it was doing instantly. The thing looked up at him and for the first time it made a sound. It hissed at him. Then it went to go back to its previous task of eating Rufus but Dean launched himself onto the carcomdor’s back, wrapped his arms around its neck, and yanked it backwards. They both tumbled off of Rufus and Dean cried out in pain as he felt blood start to flow from his shoulder wound once more. 

Then the creature was turning in his arms to try and eat him and Dean didn’t have the strength to fight it. But Bobby was suddenly there, swinging a chain and smacking the thing off of the boy. Dean sat up just in time to see Rufus decapitate the monster. 

He got to his feet, right hand clasped on his bleeding left shoulder, and looked over at the others. Bobby was fine, but Rufus’ left arm was bleeding heavily from where a chunk had been torn out by the monster’s teeth. 

“The next time I tell you to get down, you get the hell down!” Dean scolded.

“Yes, sir.” Rufus growled out between clenched teeth.

Bobby got to work, wrapping the bodies of the creatures up in the heavy ropes and tying them up tightly. Then he placed the first into the chest freezer and the second into the cabinet. Finally, he secured both metal ‘coffins’ closed with the chains. Since the creatures didn’t possess superhuman strength, there was no way that they’d be getting out.

Finally, all three hunters were able to breathe. 

“Let’s go let Sammy know that we’re alright.” Dean announced, setting off for the house, without waiting to see if the others were following. 

Once they were all back in the panic room, Sam ran to him and wrapped his arms around Dean.

“Are you okay? I was worried and I missed you so much!”

“I’m fine. And it’s all over, thanks to your research.”

“You’re bleeding again.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Let’s get you and dumbass here patched up.” Bobby instructed.

“Sounds like a plan.” Rufus agreed.

“Or maybe we can let him bleed to death for being said dumbass.” Dean muttered.

“Anyone ever mention how entirely pleasant you are?” Rufus asked.

“All the time.” Dean confirmed. “Although I prefer the description ‘awesome’ myself.”

Rufus rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I _am_ sorry to have brought all this down on all of you, but I really didn’t know you kids were here.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean grudgingly admitted.

“And we _did_ all survive.”

“Well, I wouldn’t bet on that just yet…”

Rufus gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

Dean grinned a truly wicked grin. “You still have to explain all of this to our parents.”


	140. Discussions

Chapter One Hundred and Forty: Discussions 

The Impala pulled into the parking lot of Lawrence High and parked perfectly in one of the spots reserved for the students. The driver’s side door opened and Dean hopped out. He could tell that the other students were watching him, still not used to seeing him getting out of the car, even though he’d been driving to school since his fourteenth birthday. He didn’t have a license yet (couldn’t take his test until next year), but under Kansas state law he was permitted to drive with an adult in the car. So, on his birthday, his dad had handed him the Impala’s keys. Apparently the man had gotten the hints over the years of what the car meant to Dean and the boy was allowed to drive his baby to and from school with Cas in the passenger seat and once he had his license, the car would officially become his. Dean’s dad had saved up for a truck (déjà vu) that he was now driving to work. 

Dean closed his door and heard Cas do the same as the angel got out and walked around the car to him. His friend handed him his backpack, as he did everyday despite the fact that Dean had repeatedly assured him that he was more than capable of retrieving it from the backseat himself.

“I will meet you here after school.”

“See ya.” Dean waved as Cas walked off.

It was all for show of course. Cas would go until he was out of sight and then transport himself back to Dean’s side, but in stealth mode. But there were a few upperclassmen around, so they performed their act.

Dean ran his hand appreciatively over his baby one last time before turning and walking towards the school. He ignored the couple looks that he still got from other students… mostly now from those in his own grade. Dean wasn’t that much off in age now from some of the kids in the school (he’d actually be around the same age as the incoming freshmen when he started his junior year next fall) and thanks to a recent growth spurt, he was no longer the shortest boy in the building either. But it seemed that some of his classmates would always view him as a bit of an outsider. Oh well. Screw the hell outta them. Dean wondered what they would think if they knew that he was really a time-displaced adult hunter.

“So, save the world last night, or what?”

Dean glanced sideways at Emily as his friend caught up with him. “Nope. Did my homework, watched crap tv, and then made plans on how to save the world.”

She shrugged. “I was close.”

“Trust me, when the world is coming to an end, there’ll be signs. Most people will find some lame-ass way to explain them away, but they’ll be there.”

“Well then, I’m stocking up on bottled water for when the water turns to blood.”

“Nah, stock up on toilet paper instead.” At her questioning look, Dean just shrugged. “Hey, that’s what _I_ was told to do.”

She made a face and pushed the strands of her dark hair that had escaped her ponytail back out of her face. “I really don’t want to know anymore.”

“Yet you’re always the one to start these discussions.”

“I somehow forget how disturbing they always become.” She shot back. Then she purposefully bumped into him, trying to knock him off balance. It was a move she’d done often over the years, but it didn’t work this time. Now that he’d grown a bit and was almost her height, the thin girl couldn’t push the more muscled boy away. So she settled for sticking her tongue out at him instead. They walked in silence for a while and then, when they were almost at the spot where they’d have to part ways, Emily sighed. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

“I’m not killing any of your teachers for you.”

“Dork. No, my family’s having their super boring reunion this weekend, on Sunday, and I usually go off in a corner and sulk the entire time but I was wondering if this time you could maybe tag along and keep me company? I’d ask another friend but… yeah, you’re pretty much it.”

Dean laughed. “Wow… I feel special. You’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, huh?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She protested. “I just… last year my mom accused me of being anti-social because I brought a book and read the entire time and I thought if I brought a friend that we could just hang out the whole time and I wouldn’t have to deal with my stuck up older cousins or my bratty younger ones. It’s a cookout and I know how much you like burgers…”

The hunter shrugged. “Sure. I’m actually plan-free and _my_ mom’s been complaining that I never get out of the house except to… you know…” Which was totally ridiculous because it wasn’t like he was a real teenager that actually needed to socialize. Hell, he hadn’t even socialized when he really _was_ a teenager. 

“Cool. Thanks. I’ll give you the details at lunch.”

Dean nodded as he turned to walk down C hall. 

By the end of the day, Dean was more than ready to get the hell out of the building. He’d already sat through American history, algebra, Earth science, Latin II, creative writing, finally got to lunch, and then got to go outside for baseball in gym class. Now he was in one of the two large garages that was attached to the back of the school where his final period, auto shop, was held. Along one side of the area were a few desks (the kind with the tabletop connected to the chairs) facing a rollaway blackboard. The rest of the space was taken up by cars, some up on lifts, others down on the ground with their hoods open. None of the students were in their seats; they were all around the vehicles, working. 

Dean reached over and pointed out the correct part to Jacob, who reached tentatively over and looked back down at the younger boy. The hunter nodded at the upperclassman and the teen got back to his repair.

“Remember to be gentle.” Dean advised, as he headed back to the car he was supposed to be servicing (and had already finished). “She’s not as young as she used to be and she’ll bitch and moan if you don’t treat her right.”

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

Before he reached his car, a pair of juniors waved him over. Dean made his way to them. 

“Did you check the belt?”

“We haven’t even told you what was going on.” Greg protested.

“I heard you start it up. Trust me.”

“How come that car over there is a ‘she’ and this one’s an ‘it’?” Dan wanted to know.

“’Cause that one’s a classic. She’s a work of art. This thing here is a piece of plastic crap.”

“And we need to know how to fix all types, right Mr. Winchester?” Mr. Makarewicz asked pointedly, but with no heat as he seemed to just appear next to Dean. He had such a habit of sneaking up on the hunter and other students that Dean had not only ‘Christo’-ed him but had also slipped some holy water into the man’s coffee just to be sure that there was nothing unusual about him. 

“’Course. Even if some cars aren’t worth the parts that they use to put ‘em together.”

The teacher chuckled. Dean knew that the guy preferred classics himself and despite his ‘mechanics need to be able to fix _all_ vehicles’ speeches, the dude spent his free time rebuilding muscle cars from the 60’s. 

The bell rang before the debate could continue.

“Everyone please close the hoods and place the tools back in their chests. That was only the first bell, your buses will not leave without you, but I _will_ show up at your houses and make your lives miserable if you don’t clean up properly.” Mr. Makarewicz instructed. “Mr. Winchester, could you please stay after? I know you drive, so you’ll still have a way home.”

“Sure.” Dean nodded, wondering what the teacher wanted.

Once the others had left, the teacher motioned for Dean to take a seat. The teenager did so and tried to think of what he could’ve possibly have done to get himself held back to get talked to. He’d completed all of his assignments ahead of time, kept his bad language to a minimum, and hadn’t broken anything. 

“If this is about me helping those other kids again, I just gave them some hints, I didn’t do it for them. Hell, I didn’t even touch their cars.”

“I know, Dean. I was watching. This isn’t about that. I just wanted to talk.”

“Okay…”

“You’re doing excellent in this class. Too well, really. I get the feeling that you knew the entire curriculum before setting foot in here.”

Dean shrugged. “I learned a bit from my dad and my uncle.”

“The uncle that drives to school with you?”

Dean laughed out loud. “Cas? Hell no! I doubt he even knows where the gas gage is. Or what it is. No, I have an uncle that owns an auto salvage yard and he fixes up cars and stuff. And my dad’s a mechanic.”

“And you? You want to be a mechanic?”

“Yep. That’s my plan.”

The teacher nodded but didn’t seem convinced. “Look Dean, I never tell a student what they should do with their lives. A kid decides that their passion in life is to be a bagger at a grocery store… well hey, if it makes them happy, right? But see, here’s the thing; you’re a very bright kid. And I’m not talking about you skipping grades or anything like that. I look in your eyes and I see intelligence. I watch you work in here and I see gears turning in your brain that most people don’t ever use. So here’s the thing; you wanna be a mechanic, really and truly with all your heart, go for it. But you can also do more in that same area. A guy like you, you can go into engineering and build a better car. ‘Course we both know what you think of new cars, so maybe not. But it’s a path out there open for you if you want to take it. Also, I watch you with the other students. You got a knack for teaching too. You could teach this stuff. Hell, I’ll be retiring around the time you’re getting your college degree and it would be great to know that someone competent was taking my spot. _I’d_ recommend you. Just think it over. Take your time. And speaking of which, I know that you’re thinking of shooting for an early escape from this school. Don’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“First off, if you get a degree after junior year it takes a while for credits to go through and the diploma to be granted and you most likely won’t be allowed in the graduation ceremony. Don’t know if that matters to you, but it’s a nice thing for the family. Stick with your graduating class. Then fill up your senior year with college prep courses. You’ll get college credit for them without having to pay for the classes or the books and it’ll take time off you college years. Besides, seniors can take my advanced auto shop class in the other garage and in there we don’t just teach maintenance stuff but we actually rebuild classic cars. Not many kids take that one, but I think you’ll like it.”

“I’ll think it over.” Dean promised, sincerely.

After picking Sam up from school, Dean drove them home and parked the Impala. He hopped out and locked the car. Sam was going on and on about his day and how he was getting all As in his classes and was doing great on the debate team. Dean smiled as they walked inside. It was the end of May, the school year was almost over, and Sam was actually already mourning its coming end while Dean was more than ready to be away from the long days sitting still in classrooms. Summertime meant more hunts, more free time, and now more time behind the wheel of the Impala. 

“Hey boys.” Their mom greeted.

“Hi, Mom.” They chorused. 

“Your dad’s coming home early today because we’ll be heading out. Hunting business.”

“Am I staying with Bobby?” Sam wanted to know.

“No, he’ll be there too. And Missouri as well, so you’ll be coming with us. But don’t worry. It’s not a real hunt. We’re all going to the Roadhouse to meet up with some of the other hunters.”

“Why?” Dean questioned.

“Ellen called and said that she got some news that there was something going on concerning the angels. Some kind of upcoming emergency. She’s called together a meeting of anyone who could help provide information or at least an informed opinion. Pastor Jim will be there and I also called Scott Anderson. Ellen said she’s going to have a couple of others as well. So, get ready and let’s have some dinner because I have a feeling that it’ll be a long night.”


	141. Gathering

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-One: Gathering 

Ellen ran her rag over the already clean bar top. It was a nervous habit and she wasn’t going to deny the fact that she was nervous. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, wendigos, and those kinds of creatures she could handle, but when it came to the whole war between angels and demons, she really just wanted to steer clear. But the Winchesters were friends and she knew that their oldest son was deeply involved in this stuff and she had been asked to keep her ear out for any news on this sort of thing. So when Craig Barnes had called her up and said that he and his daughter Pamela were headed their way with some disturbing information about angels, Ellen made some calls to put together a conference. Personally, she was looking forward to seeing Pamela, the young woman was cocky and a bit of a flirt, but she knew her stuff when it came to psychic stuff. Her father, on the other hand, knew a little bit about a lot of things but never anything useful. Craig didn’t hunt, but he sold information to hunters and sometimes that info was incomplete (not to mention all the charms and other crap he tried to peddle). Still, if his girl was coming, maybe she could back up his intel. And since he wasn’t charging this time and had actually seemed shaken, Ellen doubted that this was a scam. 

The first of the hunters had already arrived, although she supposed that she should use the label ‘experts’ rather than ‘hunters’ since not all of those coming that night hunted. Pastor Jim Murphy was sitting at a booth talking with her husband, while a somewhat heavy-set black woman who had introduced herself as ‘Missouri’ was at a table speaking with Bobby. Apparently, Missouri was a psychic herself and either Craig or Pamela had thought it best if she was there. As it turned out, she knew the Winchesters and didn’t live that far away. Small world. 

Tossing the rag back down, the woman started placing the small bowls of pretzels and peanuts up on the bar.

“Can I help Momma?” Jo asked, running up to stand next to her, a much too large apron tied around her.

Ellen laughed. The nine year old was dressed in jeans, a tank top, sandals, the apron, and had her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Pretty much the same exact outfit that Ellen herself liked to wear to tend bar. She chuckled.

“Sure, sweetheart. Take those bowls and put them down that end.”

“Okay.”

She watched the girl go off. Damn, but they grow up too fast. It seemed like just yesterday Jo was crawling around in a playpen in the back, and now here she was, helping out and trying to be a part of everything. But while Ellen was being lenient with the bartending duties, she still had her foot placed firmly down when it came to anything related to hunting. Yes, Jo knew the truth (it was hard to keep it a secret when the girl’s parents not only hunted but ran a bar that other hunters hung out at) but she was strictly forbidden from getting involved in anything. 

The front door opened, disturbing the mother’s thoughts. She wondered if it’d be Caleb coming back from picking up the paint they’d decided they’d need to use to make the protection sigils for tonight’s meeting. But when she turned to the door, a stranger walked through. He was tall and thin, with messy brown hair. The young man gave her a charming, if unsure, smile.

“I’m sorry,” Ellen started her prepared speech. “But we’re closed for the evening. There was a sign on the door. The place is booked for a private get together, but you can come back tomorrow if you’re still in the area.”

The guy looked puzzled. “Oh… uh, yeah. I kind of have an invitation to this private party. From the Winchesters.”

“And you are?”

“Scott Anderson.”

Ah. The guy that she knew absolutely nothing about. When she’d called Mary and told her what was going on and that it might be an emergency, the other woman had suggested bringing in this man as well. She claimed that he knew some stuff about angels and could be helpful if something was really going on. Looking at him now, the young man seemed far too… nice to be a hunter and not bizarre enough to be a supernatural expert or psychic. So what the hell was he?

“Ellen Harvelle. Pleased to meet you.” She didn’t fail to notice that both Bobby and Jim had reacted to his name but didn’t seem to recognize him. So, they’ve either heard of him or spoken with him, but never met face to face.

Pastor Jim stood and walked over to the newcomer. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’m Jim Murphy.”

Anderson grinned and took the older man’s proffered hand. “Pleasure’s all mine, Pastor.”

“Are we allowed to talk about…”

The young man shook his head. “Mary said it probably wasn’t a good idea to announce it.”

Jim nodded. “Understandable. Some of the crowd doesn’t handle unusual occurrences well.”

Ellen wrinkled her brow as she tried to figure out what they were talking about. “You boys keeping secrets?”

“Don’t we all?” The pastor questioned.

“True, but if it’s related to why we’re gathering here, we may need to…”

The door banged open and Caleb pushed his way in carrying a few bags filled with paint cans and brushes. Anderson immediately moved to help. He grabbed two of the bags which granted him a mumbled ‘thanks’ from the other man and then they both headed for the bar.

“Don’t you put those on the bar top.” Ellen scolded. “I just cleaned it.”

“About fifty times.” Bill added. 

She marched over to him and playfully smacked the back of his head. Just about everyone in the bar laughed, except for Jo who ran over to them.

“Don’t you hit Daddy! He was only telling the truth.”

“See, my sweetie-pie is here to protect me.” Bill gathered her up in his arms and hugged the girl.

“You both are on clean-up duty for a week, then.”

“Fine.” Bill agreed. “But is it okay if I only wipe down the bar once per night?”

She sent him her death-glare and walked off. 

Caleb and Anderson had placed the bags behind the bar and were now both taking up seats on the stools. The slightly younger man (at least she was assuming that he was only slightly younger. She knew that Caleb was twenty-two and she was guessing that Anderson was about mid-twenties) motioned for a drink and Ellen slid a beer his way. She grabbed a second one and offered it to the newcomer and he seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. 

Ellen wasn’t sure whether to try and continue questioning Anderson or to let the matter drop and maybe try and get some answers from the Winchesters when they arrived. Right. Like they’d offer up anything that they didn’t want someone to know. She’s been friends with the family for nine years now and she still had no clue as to what was going on with their eldest son, why Cas (who was definitely NOT Mary’s brother) acted strangely, or why they never drove to the Roadhouse. They just always ‘arrived’ outside. Yeah, she had zero chance getting real answers from them. Yet she’d learned to trust them completely. And Jo absolutely adored Sam and Dean. Speaking of…

The door opened once more and Dean walked though.

“Dean!” Jo jumped from her father’s lap to run and greet the young hunter.

Dean hugged her and then she squirmed away and threw her arms around Sam. The older family members walked in and detoured around the children. Hand shakes and greetings were exchanged by all (including Dean), and Anderson seemed to relax now that the Winchesters were here. 

Ellen looked around the bar. Almost everyone was here now. After all, there weren’t many experts on angels. Caleb didn’t even really qualify, he was just here because he’d been traveling with Pastor Jim to help out with an unexpected surge in exorcisms that the older man had been asked to perform in a town close by. Turned out that there were two actual demons and three teenagers that were just assholes and killing their neighbors’ pets for fun. Ick. 

The bar tender was just about to announce to the others that maybe it was time to start drawing the protection sigils around the bar, when the door open once again and a dark haired woman entered. Ellen smiled at Pamela and noticed from the corner of her eye that Dean had turned around and was staring. It only lasted a second before his face was blank once more, but she could’ve sworn that the boy recognized her. The rest of his family, however, didn’t seem to. Well, that wasn’t true. Cas seemed a bit… uncomfortable. Interesting. The mystery deepens. Yet again.

“Pamela! Come on in! Where’s that good for nothing asshole that you call a father?”

“Dollar in the swear jar, Momma!” Jo called out.

Right. If her and Bill actually did that, the swear jar would be the richest thing here. 

The young woman walked over and hugged her before responding. “You know him. He’s getting his bag out to bring on in.”

“I told him not to try and sell his crap here tonight. These are friends and they don’t wanna buy his useless trinkets.”

Pamela laughed before facing the others. “Bobby! Come here!” They hugged tightly. “Good to see you’re still standing. Oh and Caleb! Finally old enough to drink here legally?”

“For over a year now.”

“Good for you. Bill? Ellen hasn’t left you _yet_? Wow.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “And we let you in why?”

Pamela looked down at Jo. “You keep him in his place, you hear me?”

Jo giggled. “Daddy and me are gonna be a hunting team one day.”

Ellen groaned.

Pamela just smiled. “And I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the rest of you?”

“Pastor Jim Murphy.”

“Heard of you. Pleasure’s all mine.”

They shook hands.

“Scott Anderson.”

Pamela gave him an odd look as they shook hands. “And I’m sure you have an interesting story.”

“Not really.”

She tore her eyes from him to look at the Winchesters. 

“John Winchester. This is my wife, Mary. Our sons, Dean and Sam. And this is Cas.”

If Anderson had gotten an odd look, the expression on her face when she got to Dean was just priceless. Pamela’s eyes widened and she pulled her hand back as if she’d been shocked. She seemed to examine him and he gave her a dazzling smile. When she got to Cas, the guy didn’t even offer his hand.

“So,” She asked. “What’s _your_ story?” The question was posed to the family but directed at Dean.

“I’m awesome.” He answered. “What’s your story?”

“I’m Pamela Barnes. Psychic.”

Dean nodded, as if he expected this.

Before their confrontation could go any further, Craig Barnes let himself in, carrying a large suit case.

“You keep that closed, Barnes, or I kick your ass on out of here.” Ellen warned.

“After I shoot you.” Bill amended.

Craig rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon. How am I supposed to make any money if I can’t…”

“Your problem, not mine.”

After introductions were done once again, cans of paint and paint brushes were handed out along with hand drawn pictures of the sigils that would keep angels from listening in or entering the bar. Call them paranoid, but if they were speaking of the devil, they did not want him to appear. There were three rooms off the main bar (not counting the bathroom) and every one of them would need to be protected, just in case. Pastor Jim and Caleb took one, Bobby and Missouri another, and Pamela and her father the last. Dean took the small bathroom and everyone else worked on the main barroom. 

It took a while, but with everyone but Jo painting the sigils (Ellen was very surprised to see even Sam helping out) eventually the entire place was protected. The group gathered back around the bar and Bill and Ellen served up drinks to everyone; alcohol for the adults and sodas for the kids. 

“So, I’m sure that everyone here’s curious as to why I got us all gathered here on practically no notice. But to be honest, so am I. So, Craig… you wanna get with the explaining?”

The man nodded. “Those of you who know me, know that I come upon a lot of information in my line of business. Well, recently I’ve heard a lot about an upcoming battle between angels and demons. Words like apocalypse have been thrown around. Now, I’m not into that whole ‘end is coming’ crap, so I didn’t pay it much mind… until I met an actual angel. He said his name was Uriel and that our entire species was in danger.”


	142. Tricked

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Two: Tricked 

“Uriel?” Dean questioned. “That’s what he said his name was? You sure?”

Pamela’s father (what the hell was his name again?) shot him a dirty look for interrupting. “Yeah. And he says that humans are going to get wiped out when the angels and demons have their battle.”

“Did he happen to mention that he _wants_ this battle to happen?” Dean asked.

“Of course he wouldn’t want it. And no, I didn’t speak to him directly. I merely overheard the conversation.”

“Uh huh… yeah.” The young hunter nodded. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but you met a dick with wings.”

“And what would _you_ know about any of this, boy?”

“Quite a bit.” Cas spoke up, coming to stand by Dean’s side in a show of support. “Whereas you seem to be willing to take the word of a being you do not know.”

“Break it up.” Ellen instructed. “And I’m saying this for your benefit, Craig. That boy can knock you down without breaking a sweat. But to avoid the unnecessary bloodshed, let’s just continue with your story, and then Dean can tell us what he knows. After all, that’s why we’re here right? Exchange of information?”

There was no real agreement, but Mr. Barnes continued to speak. “Anyways, from what I understand, most angels are working towards the betterment of mankind, not its destruction. There are several led by the archangel Michael who wish to bring about the apocalypse, though, and they’ll stop at nothing to achieve those goals.”

Dean noticed that Anderson had reacted at the name Michael. He knew why. According to Anderson, the archangel had been opposed to the other angels, just as Barnes was claiming, but something seemed really off. Dean knew for a fact that Uriel was on Team Douche and Anderson had claimed that Michael was on Team Winchester, so that meant that Winged-dick was out there selling the back-ass version of events. But why?

Pastor Jim shook his head. “And the angel was just standing there speaking of all of this?”

“ _You_ are going to doubt the word of an angel?” Craig sounded scandalized. 

“From the angel’s own account, and from what I know from my own trusted allies, not all angels want the best for mankind.” The pastor gave a small smile. “Lucifer himself was an angel. So no, the word of an angel is not on level with the word of God. I _will_ question it. Everyone here should be asking questions. Such as why this angel was telling you all of this. And what he expected to achieve.”

“He wanted to warn us! He wanted to make certain that we weren’t led astray by the angels that wish to see our destruction!”

“He _wants_ our destruction, dumbass.” Dean interjected. “You know what he calls humans? Mud-monkeys. He thinks we’re the lowest of the low. If he was saying otherwise to someone, than he’s after something.”

“Or maybe _you’re_ one of humanities enemies.”

“And maybe you should bite me.”

“Okay.” Bill cut them off. “That’s enough. Again. Anyone else got anything _constructive_ to add?”

“I was attacked by angels.” Sam spoke up. “I don’t think they can be trusted. Not unless you know them or they’ve proven themselves.”

“Was it Michael’s followers that attacked you?” Craig Barnes asked. Dude was like a dog with a bone.

Sam shook his head. “No, it was one named Zachariah and one named Raphael. And Michael actually told them to leave me alone.”

“You saw that happen?” The man asked skeptically.

“No, but Anderson did!” Then Sam’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. But it seemed to be alright because no one realized that Michael hadn’t been in a vessel at the time. 

“Really? You witnessed Michael saving this boy?” Craig turned on Anderson.

The policeman stepped forward. “Yes. The two other angels were ganging up on Sam. I was doing my best to keep him safe, but one of them was just about to kill me to get to him when Michael showed up and warned them off. He told the others that the Winchesters were off limits and to go away and then they fled.”

“Yet the boy didn’t witness this?”

“I was hiding. I was scared.” Sam replied somewhat defensively. Dean wasn’t sure if he was defending his own actions or was defending Anderson’s story.

“But Michael was protecting humans, not trying to end them.” Anderson pointed out. “So already this Uriel’s story seems suspect.”

“Or maybe you’re a liar.” Craig accused.

“No he’s not!” Sam shot back.

“Then he’s just a fool. Who the hell are you anyways? You don’t look like a hunter and I don’t recall your name being mentioned when I talked to Ellen earlier.”

“He’s a friend of ours.” Dean’s mom spoke up. “He’s gone up against both angels and demons and is more qualified to speak of them and their intentions than you. The last I knew, you were only an expert in selling bad intel and faulty merchandise.”

Dean snickered. Truthfully, he’d not really heard anything of the guy, but Ellen and his mom talked (aka; gossiped) all the time, so of course the woman would know that sort of thing.

“Does anyone here have the brains and common sense to listen to me?” Craig demanded.

“Yer askin’ about brains?” Bobby snorted. “Look, I get it. You believe what ya heard. And I gotta say that ya did the right thing bringin’ the news ta us ‘cause it means that somethin’ is goin’ down. Or will be soon. But these guys are the experts. If they’re sayin’ that things ain’t what they seem, I’d believe ‘em.”

“What about you, girl?” Missouri suddenly asked, turning to Pamela. “You’ve been awfully quiet. You heard the same thing as your daddy?”

The young woman shook her head. “No. I was at the other end of the bar. There were some people that wanted a reading and I was doing my thing and then Dad came over and grabbed my arm and said we had to leave.” She shot her father an unhappy look. “At first I thought it was because hottie boy was totally pulling moves on me, but turns out Dad was freaking over the apocalypse news.”

Dean grinned at her comments. Same old Pamela; younger but still herself. Another person he had to do a better job of protecting this time around. “You didn’t feel anything weird there?”

“No… well, there was this rush; like a wave of power. But it was masked and I stay away from crap like that. It’s usually some witchcraft thing or even a demon and I have no wish to play with that. I mean, I do my conjuring and all, but never when they’re in the same room. Those things’ll rip a person to pieces. As I’m sure you hunters know.”

Dean nodded. “But you didn’t have a feel about it. Like good or bad.”

“No. Just power. But we have two psychics in the room now, we can…”

“No!” Dean and Cas yelled at the same time. Then in a calmer tone, Dean continued. “Uh, I mean, you don’t conjure angels or even peek at them. Those dudes can burn your eyes out in their true forms.”

“Oh.” Pamela paled a bit. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Yeah.”

“This is crap.” Craig stated. “Uriel will lead us and help us to survive.”

“What the hell are you? Some crazed follower?” Dean’s father questioned. “Listen to yourself; you’re not sounding rational. You sound like a cult follower or something. We are trying to present rational…”

“You’re trying to present lies in the form of truth.”

“Please everyone calm down.” This time it was Pastor Jim that was trying to placate the group. 

Dean looked around and saw that Ellen had placed Jo on a chair behind the bar to keep her as far away from the argument as possible while still having the girl in view. Sam had pressed up against Dean’s side and everyone was tense. 

“The pastor is right.” Cas joined in “This is a very serious matter and we must all… No.”

Dean was about to ask what was wrong when suddenly Anderson whipped his head around. “There are angels here!”

Everyone looked around but the room was empty save for their group.

“What are you talking about?” Bill Harvelle demanded.

“Angels! There are angels in this bar and they mean us harm!” Anderson all but yelled.

The door to one of the backrooms swung open and three people stepped out. The first two were a man and a woman dressed in suits, looking very serious and slightly constipated. The third was a young looking Uriel. Crap.

“Well, look at this. A whole group of hunters and so-called experts gathered here. Thank you for the invitation.”

“You weren’t invited.” Ellen informed him. “You’re Uriel, I presume?”

“I am. And I _was_ invited.” The smug bastard replied. “Thank you, by the way.” He looked right at Craig.

Damn again! It was the room that Pamela and her father had ‘protected’ that the angels had come from. He must’ve screwed something up on purpose.

“You’re welcome.” The moron replied. “I tried to tell these people your message but they are not very receptive.”

“Did I not warn you that many would not believe?”

Dean sneered. “Why should anyone believe a word that comes from _your_ mouth, you asshole. You don’t care a bit about humanity.”

Uriel narrowed his eyes. “What I care about, boy, is something that you will never understand.”

“Oh, I understand. Better than you’d think, but I’ll _never_ agree.”

“Of course not. Because you are too small and insignificant to see the truth.”

Dean snorted. 

“See!” Cas turned to face the others. “This is what this angel really thinks. Are these the words of a being that would protect humanity?”

“He’d protect no one.” Anderson quietly proclaimed, looking at the angel as if he could see straight into him.

Dean took quick stock and knew that they were in trouble. Except for Cas’s blade, they had no weapon to use against an angel. If Uriel made a move against them, they were toast. However, it wasn’t dick-with-wings, but his two flunkies that started spreading out, flanking the group. Ellen and Bill both backed up and went to protect Jo. Sam clung tighter to Dean and the older boy tried to block the angels’ view of his brother. His parents and Cas closed ranks, trying to shield the two boys. Bobby and Caleb stood near Missouri and Pastor Jim. Jim had some fighting experience, but not as much as other hunters, preferring to stick to exorcisms and such, and Missouri wasn’t a hunter at all. The only three people still standing in the center of the room were Pamela, Craig, and Anderson. Pamela seemed wary, Craig was elated, and Anderson was still staring at the angel. Dean wished that the cop and Pamela would get the hell outta Dodge. Personally though, he couldn’t care less what happened to Pamela’s father. The ass had brought this down on all of them.

But he really hadn’t expected anything bad to happen to the guy right at that moment. Not until Uriel stepped forward with that smug-ass smile on his face and started talking.

“Now, I know I said that you’d be protected and I promise that in most cases doing what you did would most certainly earn you any favor you’d ask. But since I think you’d have an issue with what I’m here to do…” Uriel’s hand reached out and the angel placed his palm against Craig’s forehead. 

Light radiated out first from the hand and then from the man’s eyes and mouth. Pamela shrieked as everyone in the bar let out cries of protest or screams of their own. Jo started crying. It didn’t take long, yet took an eternity. Then Craig’s corpse fell to the ground, his eyes burned out.

“No!” Pamela fell to her knees. “Why? He… he believed in you! Why would you kill him?”

“He was nothing to me. None of you are. Only paradise matters and you lowly creatures have nothing to do with that and are standing in my way.”

“He wasn’t!” She shot back, tears streaming down her face. 

“He would’ve when I went through with my plans for tonight. See, I can’t very well have anyone running around who might get a glimpse at what we’re planning. So, I’m afraid that all psychics must be taken care of. That’s why I needed you and the other lady here while I was also removing the other things standing in my way.” He smiled a rather unfriendly smile at the group gathered there.

Pamela shook her head in denial. Dean went to move to protect her, but his parents held him back. He had no weapons. Cas seemed to be considering going for his blade even though pulling it now would be akin to suicide. The small group around Missouri closed up tighter, not that they could really keep her safe if the angels wanted her dead. Hell, the angels wanted them all dead.

“Stay away from her.” Anderson spoke up, as he stepped in between the angel and Pamela. “Leave right now.”

Uriel laughed. “Who here is going to make me? You?”

Dean admired the policeman’s courage, but the guy was going to get himself killed. Anderson himself had admitted that Zachariah could’ve easily killed him back at the hospital and here he was, staring down yet another angel. Apparently the cop took the whole ‘serve and protect’ thing to heart. But this time, Dean doubted that an archangel was going to show up to save them.

“Maybe not.” Anderson admitted. “But I sure as hell aren’t letting you lay your hand on this lady.”

The female angel stepped towards Anderson, probably with intent to move him, but Uriel gave a shake of his head. “No, the man wants to play the hero, he gets to die the hero’s death.” The angel’s face darkened. “Then I kill the girl anyway… over your dead body.”

“No!” Sam cried out.

“Just get your feathered ass out of here and leave us all alone.” Dean snarled.

The suited male angel stepped towards the Winchesters and their dad pulled his family close while Cas stood at the ready to fight. 

Uriel took a step closer and to Anderson’s credit he didn’t back down. He _did_ glance around the room, making quick eye contact and then glancing down at Pamela, as if asking the others to do something to protect her once he was gone. But Dean suspected that the cop knew that the chances of most of them living through this were growing slim. If someone could get close to a wall then maybe they could draw a banishing sigil…

But before Dean could even begin to think up a plan related to that, Uriel thrust his palm against Anderson’s forehead and a glow began to emanate from the angel’s hand. 

“No!” Dean and Sam both cried out. Dean wondered how many friends he’d lose that night.


	143. Unexpected

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Three: Unexpected 

The obviously evil angel pressed his palm up against Scott Anderson’s head and the young man felt heat radiate from the hand. The cop closed his eyes and waited for the excruciating pain and the inevitable end. He knew that his death wouldn’t be pretty and he really didn’t want to die, but if it would buy the others time to get themselves out of that situation and save more lives, then it would be worth it. There were women and children in that room and they had to come first. And just why did he have time to think all this? Shouldn’t he be dead by now?

Scott opened his eyes and saw light glowing around where Uriel’s hand was and saw the angel looking confused. Yep, that settled it. Scott _should_ be dead but wasn’t and not even his would-be killer knew why.

The realization that he wasn’t seconds away from death chased away a bit of the fear that had taken up residence in his brain and that’s when he felt ( _heard?_ ) something in him that was telling him to grab onto the warmth of the energy that was rushing into him from the angel’s touch. Grab onto? How? But Scott tried anyway because the feeling inside of him was just so intense that it could not be ignored. 

Scott didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but he thought very hard about grabbing onto the warm (and when did he stop thinking of that energy as heat and start thinking of it as warmth?) feeling and somewhere along the way he realized that he’d moved his hand and was grasping Uriel’s wrist. But he was also somehow grasping the warmth with his thoughts. It was wrapping around him… in his skin… and it didn’t burn.

_Pull_. The feeling ( _voice?_ ) instructed. And this time Scott didn’t even hesitate. He just though about what it might be like to pull on that warmth and his mind seemed to do the rest. He felt the warmth fill his hand and it tingled a bit. The feeling began to travel up his arm and Scott was trying to decide if he should keep pulling or let go, when Uriel pushed him away and the connection was broke.

Scott fell to the ground, landing on his butt next to where Pamela was still kneeling by her father’s corpse. He grunted at the impact. His hand and forearm were still warm, but when he glanced down at himself, the limb looked perfectly fine.

“What the hell!” Uriel exclaimed. “ _What are you?_ ”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. Scott wanted to say that he was a perfectly ordinary human, a cop from New Mexico that was _still_ trying to get a promotion because of his asshole of a boss, but he figured that that couldn’t possibly be true. Because the average human, police or not, would be eyeless and dead right now.

Scott looked around the room and saw that everyone was staring at him. There were angels in the room, one of which was trying to kill them all, but every eye that was not burned out was fixed on him. The hunters that knew nothing of him, the Harvelles and Caleb, were looking at him with fear and distrust, as if he was as much a threat as Uriel. Pastor Jim, Bobby, and Missouri had expressions of awe and disbelief. The Winchesters seemed concerned. Pamela was watching him as if she was trying to decide if he was her hero or if she should move further away from him. And the angels seemed scared of him. Truthfully, Scott couldn’t blame any of their reactions. Now that the weird calm that had fallen over him during the confrontation was gone, he felt his heart picking up speed and he knew that he himself was panicking. 

“What did you do to me?” The angel questioned.

Scott had no real answer for that either. But when he remained silent, Uriel pulled out a silver blade and held it pointed at the policeman. Yeah, Scott was pretty certain that there was no way that he was going to survive being stabbed by that. On the other hand, he could feel the fear pouring off of the angel. So Scott tried to ignore his own terror and got to his feet. Now Pamela _did_ scurry off away from him and ran over to where Pastor Jim and the others were gathered. Good. She was safe for the moment. 

“Put your blade away or I’ll do it again, and this time you won’t survive.” Okay, so that was a huge bluff and he was hoping that his voice didn’t waver half as much as it seemed to in his own ears, but what else was he supposed to do?

“How? How did you… _what are you?_ ” Uriel practically roared.

“It doesn’t matter. What _does_ is that you can’t kill me and I won’t let you touch anyone else in here.” Yep, he was totally making this all up as he went along. This was why he’d _never_ handle a hostage negotiation. 

Just then, he felt something. Another angel had arrived. Powerful… but different. It didn’t feel like the self-serving evil of Uriel or Zachariah, or the complete indifference of the Uriel’s two flunkies. But it also wasn’t the kindness, goodness, and love that he felt come from Cas. It was… different. Unique. And Scott was almost positive that the angel was there to help.

“You think that I’m afraid of you?” Uriel sneered.

“I know you are. I can feel the fear rolling off of you. Just as I felt the evil and selfishness pouring from you the moment you appeared here. And your followers fear me too.” Scott informed him.

“I fear nothing. I am more powerful than anyone here and I’ll kill everyone in this room!”

“Oh why can’t we all just get along?” A new voice spoke up.

Every head turned to see a person (angel… archangel!) enter from the same room that Uriel had just minutes before. He wasn’t that tall, had light hair, and was munching on a candy bar. His entrance sparked confusion in the room as everyone seemed to look at each other as if questioning who this person was. Well, everyone except Dean and Cas who exchanged looks of surprise and relief. This archangel was a friend then. Good.

“And just who are you?” Uriel spat out.

“Think about reeeeaaaaal hard and I’m sure it’ll come to you. I mean, you were always kinda thick, but still…”

And something must’ve happened or clicked into place because the dark-skinned angel’s eyes widened. “Gabriel! But you… you’ve been gone.”

“And here I am. And you guys even all went out of your way to throw me this wonderful party.”

Scott felt a burst of power fill the room and suddenly the place was decorated in streamers and balloons. Confetti fell from no where. 

“Really?” Dean asked. “The party motif _again_ , Gabe? Don’t you have any new tricks?”

“Hey, this _is_ new, Shorty.” The archangel protested. “Last time I had a disco ball and lights. But I figured that was way too retro for this bar.”

“Whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know why you’ve decided to show yourself now, Gabriel, but stay out of my business.” Uriel warned. 

“Oh, you mean your plans to go against big bro’s orders to leave the nice little humans alone?” At Uriel’s surprised look, Gabriel nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been keeping an ear out recently and I’ve heard the talk. Orders going from ‘look but don’t touch’ to ‘keep the hell away’. Yet here you are. And that…” He looked down at the corpse. “… looks an awful lot like you did a ‘bad touch’.”

Dean snorted despite the seriousness of the situation. Everyone else seemed to be frozen in the moment.

Gabriel strolled forward, seemingly in a casual way, but Scott could feel the way he was cautious and a bit wary. The other two angels stepped closer to Uriel. As the archangel got close, he slowed and turned to face Scott. They made eye contact briefly and Gabriel’s eyes widened almost comically. When he continued his approach, he purposefully avoided contact with the policeman, unease leaking from him. Great, now even the archangel was freaked out by Scott. What the hell?

“Leave Gabriel.” Uriel instructed. “Go back to wherever you’ve hidden yourself all these years. This doesn’t concern you.”

“I’m afraid that it does. We all know that I’m not a ‘cause’ kinda guy, but there are some things that even I gotta fight for.”

“And you’ll fight for Michael?”

“Big bro? No! I mean, if he’s really decided to get off his high horse and use his brain for once, all the best to him. But I’m talking about people. You know, those funny little guys and girls that created such wonderful things as chocolate? Maybe if you’d eaten more of it, you wouldn’t be in such a rotten mood all the time.”

“You’re crazy and deluded.”

“And you still have a stick shoved so far up your ass that it’s impaled your brain. But I wasn’t going to mention it…”

Uriel lunged forward and tried to thrust the blade into Gabriel’s chest. Scott opened his mouth to yell out a warning when the archangel disappeared from the spot where he’d stood only a second before and reappeared right behind the dark-skinned angel. 

“I’m sorry, brother.” Gabriel apologized as he placed a hand on the back of Uriel’s head. Light radiated out from the angel and moments later he dropped dead to the floor. Then the archangel turned to the other angels. “You don’t have to…”

The female charged at him. Cas was suddenly moving, a silver blade in his hand and in the blink of an eye, the other angel was impaled. Scott watched as she joined her leader on the ground. 

He tore his gaze away when he heard a woman scream. He spun around to look and saw that the male angel was standing over by the Harvelles with his sword drawn and pointed right at the little girl’s throat. Both parents were on the ground, obviously having been pushed down with great force. 

“We _will_ have paradise!” The angel shouted. “You all gather here to stop us but you will be the ones to be stopped!”

The girl was crying hysterically.

“Leave her alone.” Dean called out, but he didn’t move. No one dared to. “She’s just a kid. She’s no threat to you or your stupid cause.”

“She’ll grow to be a threat.”

“Please…” Ellen pleaded, both fear and anger in her eyes. Her husband was shaking and reached a hand out to his daughter who was so close but much too far away for him to help.

“Help her.” Gabriel whispered to Scott.

Scott looked over at him. Why was the archangel telling _him_ to rescue the girl? What could _he_ possibly do? Then he felt it. The energy pouring off of the angel across the room. It wasn’t touching him like it had been earlier, but it was there just the same. 

The young cop took a deep breath and tried to ignore everything else in the room and focus on the energy coming from the angel. Since it wasn’t holding onto him, this time he thought about touching it and seconds later, there it was; tingling in his head. And now he knew what to do. Trying not to think about how he was doing it or even what exactly he was doing, Scott grabbed onto the energy and pulled. Hell, he didn’t just pull, he _yanked_. Distantly, he heard the angel cry out and the clatter of the blade hitting the floor. Warmth filled his head and he forgot not to focus on what exactly he was doing (even if he really didn’t know what he was doing) and Uriel’s words from earlier flooded into his mind. _What are you?_ Scott panicked and released his hold on the energy and whatever he’d been doing just stopped.

The policeman fell to his knees, gasping and holding his head, even though it didn’t really hurt. It just felt weird… a bit warm and tingly. He looked up and over at the angel and saw that he was holding his head as well, but he seemed to be in quite a bit of pain.

“No…” The angel cried out.

“Finish him.” Gabriel ordered quietly. Cas went to step forward, but the archangel placed a hand on his arm. “Not with that pigsticker. Any weapon will do now.”

“What?” Dean asked.

There was general confusion in the bar, but the girl’s parents moved quickly. Ellen snatched up her daughter and carried the still crying child far away from her attacker. Bill pulled a shotgun from where he must’ve kept it hidden behind the bar, aimed it at the still dazed angel and pulled the trigger. The shot was loud, and the result was violent. Of course a shotgun blast to the head was always violent and messy…

There was a moment of complete silence and then Dean spoke up again. “What the freakin’ hell? That shouldn’t have… why did that work?”

“Tell you all in a bit.” Gabriel promised but he was looking right at Scott when he said it and the cop was certain that everyone caught that.

“What did you do?” Caleb asked Scott.

“Who are you?” Bobby demanded of Gabriel. “I caught yer name and I get that yer an angel, but whose side are ya on?”

“What happened to that angel?” Ellen wanted to know.

“What’s wrong with him?” Pamela was looking right at Scott.

And then everyone was talking at once; asking questions, demanding answers. Scott just stood up and listened to everything, trying to control his rapidly beating heart and not think about everything that had just transpired and what it could possibly mean for him.

Dean walked right up to Gabriel, Sam still clinging tightly to his older brother’s arm, and looked up at the archangel. “So, I take it you’re in? Because you know you could’ve just called to give me your answer, right?”

“What? And miss all this drama?” Gabriel grinned, pulled the rest of his candy bar from his jacket pocket and popped it in his mouth. “Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! On top of posting this chapter, I'm also finishing up my 12 chapter story 'Season of the Soul Harvester' AND posting a cute Weechester oneshot called 'The Winchester Rule of Trick 'R Treating'. Enjoy!


	144. A Long Time Ago…

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Four: A Long Time Ago… 

Castiel wasn’t sure what to react to first. The fact that his brother was here and had apparently decided to join forces with them. The fact that Anderson hadn’t been smote by Uriel when by all rights he should have, and then had done something which had rendered an angel helpless. The fact that Uriel had staged an attack against his family and friends. Or the simple fact that this room now felt like a power keg getting ready to explode. There was a lot to address. But before he could say anything to anyone, Caleb pulled a gun and pointed it right at Anderson.

“What the hell are you?”

Anderson’s eyes widened. The man, who’d seemed to be on the edge of a panic attack even before the hunter had threatened his life, put his hands to out to his sides and tried to look as nonthreatening as possible. “I really wish everyone would stop asking that.” He said almost to himself. 

“Everyone calm down.” Dean instructed, stopping his bantering with Gabriel. 

“Calm down?” Caleb looked at him incredulously. “We were just almost all killed by angels?”

“Yeah. _All_ of us. Including the guy you’re holding a gun at.” Dean pointed out “He was in just as much danger as the rest of us. More, since he was dumb enough to jump in the line of fire.” (Like Dean should talk.) “So, I don’t think that he’s working with our enemies, and thus he’s no threat to us. So, lower the weapon.”

Caleb shook his head. “He ain’t human, Dean. And things that aren’t human are a threat.”

“So, I suppose you’re going to point that here next?” Gabriel wanted to know, with an almost challenging look.

That would not end well.

“I _am_ human.” Anderson protested. “I have no clue why I’m still alive, but I’m not a monster or anything.”

“He’s the one who de-powered that angel, isn’t he?” Bill asked. “He was holding his head at the same time that the angel reacted like that.”

“I don’t know how I did that either!” The cop insisted.

“And I don’t care.” Ellen added. “He saved our baby.”

“Momma, I’m not a baby.” Jo muttered.

“Hush.” Ellen brushed the girl’s hair back before rejoining the argument. “That man stopped a threat and he’s a hero. So, you put that gun down now, Caleb, or I’ll kick your butt out of this bar so fast and hard that you won’t walk for a week.”

Castiel watched as Caleb reluctantly lowered his weapon but didn’t reholster it. 

“I’m certain that everything will be just fine once everyone here calms down and Gabriel offers an explanation.” Castiel announced. 

“Oh, thanks for putting me in the spotlight there, bro.” Gabriel shot back. Castiel froze at his brother’s ‘term of endearment’. A quick glance around the room revealed that the others hadn’t missed it either.

“’Bro’?” Bill repeated. “Isn’t that what he referred to the other angels as?”

“And you did have the same kind of weapon as they did.” Caleb pointed out.

“Whoops.” Gabriel looked more amused than apologetic. “Looks like there had still been a cat in the bag up until a second ago.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.” Castiel replied through clenched teeth, before turning to address the room. No use keeping the secret now. Besides, Bobby, Pastor Jim, Missouri, and Anderson knew already. “It is true. I am an angel and have stayed with the Winchesters for years to protect them.”

“How are we supposed to believe an angel now?” Caleb asked.

“Maybe because an angel saved your ungrateful butt?” Gabriel suggested while grandly gesturing at himself. 

“Why did you hide the truth from us?” Ellen wanted to know.

“For your own protection as well as ours. Even other angels do not know what I am. I am in hiding. They do not take kindly to those that oppose them.” Castiel explained.

“They don’t take kindly to much at all.” Gabriel muttered.

Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Okay, so maybe he’d picked up a few habits from Dean over the years.

“Can you prove that you’re on our side?” Caleb wanted to know.

“Oh for God’s sake!” Anderson cried out. “First you want to shoot me, now you’re verbally attacking him? Okay, I can almost understand your issues with me. You don’t know me and _I’m_ not even sure what’s going on with me right now. But Cas? From what I understand, he’s fought by your side and he clearly stabbed that angel that was threatening us just now. And you’re really going to question his loyalties? I get that everyone here is afraid. _I’m_ afraid. But as a cop, I’ve seen what happens when a group of people let fear control their actions and it never ends well.”

“He’s right.” Dean chimed in. “Except, I would’ve just said ‘chill out’.”

“And I would’ve put duct tape on hunter guy’s mouth, but hey, to each his own.” Gabriel shrugged.

Silence finally descended on the bar. 

Castiel took the opportunity to continue talking. “So, if we can all please remain calm for a while and perhaps take a seat, maybe Gabriel can provide some answers.”

“Love to.” Gabriel smiled cheekily. “Just as soon as that pretty barmaid gets me a drink.”

Ellen shot him a look, but John interrupted quickly. “I think we could all use a drink. I’ll help.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” Gabriel told him and, with a wave of the archangel’s hand, bottles of beer appeared on every table along with plates filled with cakes, cookies, pies, and boxes of gourmet chocolates. 

There were gasps all around the room from those not use to Gabriel’s flamboyant use of power. 

“Momma, can I have a cookie?” Jo asked.

“They’re perfectly safe.” Dean assured, taking a chair and helping himself to a large piece of pie.

“Sodas for the kids!” Ellen insisted.

Once everyone was settled, some eating, some eyeing the sweet buffet suspiciously, Gabriel decided it was time to speak.

“Well, boys and girls, my story starts a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.”

Castiel looked at him questioningly. “No, it doesn’t. We were created here on this planet.”

“Star Wars, Cassie. Watch it. Anyways, I’ve been away from home a long time due to sibling squabbling but Dean here contacted me a few years back and made me an offer hard to refuse.”

“He did?” John questioned.

“Uh yeah,” Dean looked uncomfortable. “That trip I took that time to contact a potential ally. That was Gabriel.”

“How do you know him?” Pastor Jim questioned.

Castiel shot his brother a look. Gabriel had already let some secrets slip out, but he _couldn’t_ let this out. The archangel sent him a look back that clearly told Castiel he’d gotten the message and was insulted that the angel would even think that he’d spill the truth.

“Our paths crossed a while back. I was in hiding but he was bright enough to see me for what I was. Probably didn’t hurt that he travels around with my baby bro. Anyway, after some consideration and after hearing how the stuff has clearly hit every fan that Heaven has ever installed, I decided to join team Winchester!” He spread his arms out wide as if waiting for congratulations. Then he seemed to think. “’Course the name needs work… How about ‘Team Gabriel’?” Suddenly everyone in the bar was wearing a baseball cap with those words sewn on the front.

“Gabe.” Dean shot him a look.

“Killjoy.” The caps disappeared.

“Gabriel,” Castiel started. “If you can stop with the pranks for a moment, perhaps you can tell us what you know of the angels’ plans.”

“And uh… not to sound self-centered or anything, but you seem to have some answers about me as well, and I really need to hear them.” Anderson spoke up. “You knew something when you looked at me the first time and then you encouraged me to stop that angel. I just… I need to know what’s going on.”

“And well you should. Because up until today, I didn’t even know that you existed.”

“Well yeah, we just met.” Anderson seemed confused.

“Duh. No, I mean your kind. And before anyone here freaks out and goes for a gun _again_ , let me clarify; he’s human. But… special. Now, this story _does_ start a very long time ago. See, angels will swear up and down that they leave earth alone… ‘haven’t set foot down here in forever’… but they’ve popped down here more than you’d ever believe. And not just on Daddy’s orders, either. Or for the delicious cuisine. But the absolute worst of their visits relates to a distant time. See, Dad created humans, and you guys became his favorites. And we were supposed to love you guys too and that was a problem for some angels. And I’m not just talking about Lucifer. I mean sure, he had the biggest Daddy issues out there, but jealousy isn’t just _his_ problem. And Dad must’ve foreseen this and knew that you little people would need protection. And you had it.”

“Angels.” Caleb interjected dismissively.

“Are you even listening? I meant protection _from_ angels. There were a bunch of humans that were special. They could sense when angels were near, discern the angels’ intentions, perceive angels in their true form, no angel powers could touch them, and, as a bonus, they could pull the grace from an angel that was actively using their powers. This starting to sound like anyone we know?”

All eyes were on Anderson.

“But I have never heard of anyone like this.” Castiel protested.

“Yeah well, there’s a reason for that.” Gabriel informed him. “You see, Daddy tried to keep it a secret from most of us. Only archangels can see these guys for what they really are. Their souls look all bright and glow-y to us.”

“But Anderson was in a room with Raphael and…” Castiel broke in. 

“Please wait until the explanation has come to a complete stop before interrupting. Anyways, those special humans were supposed to keep us angels in check and I guess us archangels were allowed to see them to makes certain that they stayed in check. Perfect system, right? Well, Luci was in his cage for his crimes, and I was trying to ignore all this crap, and Michael was praising Dad’s wonderful plans, but Raphael… he wasn’t so thrilled. And somewhere along the way he told some other angels about these humans and the next thing you know a bunch of them decided that they were too dangerous to live. Especially since the abilities were passed down through bloodlines. Because everything is always about bloodlines, right? It’s not a sure thing; a guy with the ability might have four kids and pass it down to none, just one, or all four.” Gabriel shrugged. “But either way, a group of angels led by Raphael went down and antagonized one of them into supposedly making the first move. Then the war was on. Angels and humanity’s protectors duking it out until one guy got his hands on Raphael himself. He didn’t get the chance to drain all of the archangel’s grace, obviously. Just took a tiny drop, before another angel skewered him, but it was enough to rip away Raphael’s power to see these special humans. Without another archangel willing to join his cause, he was effectively blind to his opponents. But he’d seen enough. And boy was he pissed. He ordered the slaughter of every family member of every known special human, just in case they too were special. Of course the other special guys couldn’t sit back and watch, and they ended up revealing themselves while trying to help and effectively doomed themselves and their families as well. When it was all over, none of the special humans had survived. At least, that’s what we all thought. And trust me, I heard Michael chewing Raphael out over it. Afterwards, I’ve walked this earth a long time and never encountered a single descendant. Until now.”

“Me?” Anderson spoke.

“Got it in one.” Gabriel declared. “But really, it wasn’t that hard after I provided the entire story.”

“But how, if the angels killed them all back then?”

“Someone back then must’ve decided that hiding was the best choice. Probably kept in hiding for generations until they felt it was safe. Hey, with the way it works in the bloodlines, you may be the first ‘active’ special human in a long time. But here you are. And if Raphael finds out, you’ll be dead.”

“That’s comforting.” Anderson muttered.

“Oh c’mon!” Gabriel exclaimed “Don’t sound so down. You just found out that you come from a long line of hand-picked warriors of God. That’s worth a bit of celebration.”

“Yeah, I also found out that I have a big old target on my back.”

“Don’t fool yourself. You’ve had a target on your back since you joined up with those guys.” Gabriel pointed to the Winchesters.

Castiel barely heard them. He was thinking about the fact that even back then, his brothers and sisters had committed such horrible acts. And that time it wasn’t even in the name of a forever paradise, but just out of fear and self-preservation. Hundreds of humans and their innocent families killed for nothing. It was awful. Castiel looked over at Anderson and knew that Raphael would not hesitate to kill the man and any family the guy might have if the archangel ever discovered the truth.

“We would not let anything happen to him.” Castiel promised.

“Good, because we’re going to need all the help we can get.” Gabriel said.

“Why? What do ya know?” Bobby inquired. “Ya said you knew ‘bout the angels’ plans.”

“Actually it was Cassie here that implied that, but yeah, I’ve heard a bit. From what I’ve heard, there’s a ‘no touch’ policy on earth, on the Winchesters in specific, put in place by Mikey himself. Word is that he’s come to the conclusion that if Dad wanted us to have our paradise now, we would, but since the plans have been derailed, that’s Dad’s will. But Raphael, Zachariah, Uriel, and a bunch of others don’t agree. Yet their going behind big bro’s back rather than defy him head on. At least so far, but yeah… like that’ll last.”

“So they want the apocalypse back on track. We knew this already.” Dean snapped. “Not news, Gabe.”

“Well, did you know that some of the angels are working with the guys downstairs to get what they want?”

“What?” Mary asked.

“Yep. From what I hear Zach is even the one that let Lilith out quite a few years back.”

Castiel couldn’t believe it. Actually, he could. He’d even told Dean back then that someone powerful enough could’ve sprung Lilith, but they hadn’t been able to think of any demons that could do it. As it turned out, that was because it had been an angel that had done the deed, not a demon. 

“He’d been trying to make certain that the seals would be broken.” Castiel suggested.

“Probably, but _that_ plan obviously fell through. But from the whispers I hear, they’re thinking up new ideas. All related to pipsqueak over there.” Gabriel gestured at Dean.

“They will not succeed.”

“They sure put in a good effort tonight.” The archangel pointed out. “Plan was to off the psychics, the hunters, and grab a couple important chess pieces. Eliminate future threats, while capturing their targets. And I doubt that this setback will deter them for long.”

Castiel figured that they wouldn’t have long to wait before the next attack. He just wondered if it would be staged by Heaven, Hell, or both.


	145. Eye of the Storm

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Five: Eye of the Storm 

The atmosphere inside the bar was still tense. Of course, with all that had happened and been told to them, Dean figured that everyone had good reason to feel that way. Bill and Ellen were sticking close to Jo as she ate a second piece of chocolate cake. Pamela had settled down next to Missouri, but kept glancing over at the spot where her father had died. The body had been taken away, but he knew that the woman was still picturing it lying there with its empty, burned out sockets. The older psychic was trying to comfort her, but Pamela suddenly turned to where Cas and Gabriel were standing.

“If you are really angels, bring my father back.”

Dean knew that Cas couldn’t use his powers like that, but maybe Gabriel…

“No can do, sweetheart.” Gabe shot back.

“Why not?”

“Well, first off, your daddy called this down on all of us and if he were back, how long until he contacts the next threat and gets himself or someone else killed.”

“He wouldn’t!” Pamela protested. “He’d learn from this!”

Gabriel snorted. “You know what I’ve spent years doing, babe? Watching guys just like him destroy lives over and over again and repeat their mistakes until they get their just deserts.”

“Oh, is that what you think my father got?” Now the grief had turned to anger.

“Well, if the shoe fits…”

Cas stepped in before the argument could get worse. “Even if Gabriel was inclined to bring your father back from the dead, he could not.”

“What? But…”

“When an angel smites a person, it is impossible for another angel to revive that person. I believe it is why some angels choose to kill in that fashion when there is dissent in our ranks. The only one who has the power to bring someone back from a death such as this is Michael himself.”

“Well, if he’s opposed to this, why doesn’t he get down here and do it!”

“Besides the fact that your dad deserves what he got?” Gabriel muttered.

Cas shot him a look. “Because he does not have a vessel. Angels need willing hosts. Archangels need very specific willing hosts. And if they take a host that is not their true vessel and they use certain powers, it will burn out the host. So, if Michael were to come and heal your father, it would most likely kill the person he was possessing.”

Pamela looked confused. “Well, why not just use his true vessel?”

There was an awkward pause and Dean could feel Cas struggling to _not_ look at him. “That is a very long story that is not appropriate to tell at this time. But it cannot happen.”

“Oh.” Pamela lost a bit of her fire and went back to looking depressed. 

Yeah, Dean had escaped yet again without having an uncomfortable story of his told in front of this group. One day, maybe some of them would discover the truth (outside of his parents, Bobby, and Anderson who already knew), but this wasn’t that day. Hell, too many secrets had been aired right now as it was. 

Dean could tell that there was unease within the ranks of the hunters with having Gabriel around and some seemed a bit on edge with Cas as well. Then there was the fact that Anderson was sitting by himself and was getting odd looks from others occasionally. If it wasn’t for the fact that they needed to discuss a plan of action, Dean would call for everyone to disperse and go home. 

Of course, he himself was a bit in awe of Anderson and still curious about what made Gabriel suddenly show up to help, but he wasn’t going to try and start a fight or go judging anyone. But he was going to get some answers.

“So Gabe, showing up, facing down your brother, and giving straight answers isn’t exactly your style. What’s up?”

“You complaining? ‘Cause I can just restart this whole day and decide to go to Disney World instead.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Not saying that. Just wanted to know what made today so special.”

“I knew Uriel was coming here to finish off your parents and Cas, then grab you. Figured if I wanted to join your exclusive club I should probably do it before that happened.”

“And you were willing to expose yourself to do that?”

“If you’re talking about Uriel, I had a feeling our meeting here tonight would be the last. If you mean these guys… who are they going to tell? Other drunk hunters? Not intimidated.”

Dean nodded. He supposed that it made sense. He _had_ told Gabriel that if he joined up, they’d need his help for the big stuff. Gabe must’ve considered this to be big. 

“Okay, I get it. But still, getting a straight answer out of you is a rare thing. I’ll have to cherish this moment.”

The archangel snorted dismissively. “Don’t get used to it.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You better not pull any of your usual crap on me or mine. Not unless you want _my_ next practical joke to be an angel blade glued point up onto your toilet seat.”

Gabriel smirked. “Ouch. But no. Not necessary. Sure some of these guys could probably use to be taken down a peg, but trust me when I say that infighting is just shooting yourself in the foot. With a bazooka.”

Dean chuckled. “Wow… deep thoughts from you. Who would’ve believed it?”

“Oh please. If a kid could be spitting out orders to this crowd, a trickster could ‘think deep thoughts’. We both know that things aren’t always what they seem.”

“Speaking of…”

“Haven’t said anything thus far, have I?” He lowered his voice. “About your past _or_ yours and baby bro’s destinies?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “You can’t.”

“After the way Anderson was almost crucified for being a bit different?” He blew a raspberry. “Yeah, I figured what my siblings wanted from you boys wouldn’t go over well with some.”

“Thanks.” Dean was oddly touched. Gabriel could be a bit of an ass sometimes, but maybe he wasn’t all bad. Okay, he definitely wasn’t all bad since he _had_ stood up to Lucifer in the previous timeline.

“Oh, and I’d convince your cop friend to move away from home if he’s encountered Raphael before. Just a precaution.”

“But you said that Raphael can’t see the whole ‘specialness thing’ anymore.”

“He can’t. But from what I understand, he knows that Anderson is a friend of yours and that Mikey protected him. That’s enough to make him a target. And if more angels go after him…”

“It could expose him.” Dean nodded.

“But you have to wait in line, ‘cause I need to talk to him about something first.”

“Just… don’t be yourself when you do. He’s had a lot dropped on him in one night already. So maybe try to use a little tact.”

“A _Winchester_ suggesting someone uses tact? Guess I showed up too late to stop destiny because that’s a sure sign of the apocalypse.”

Dean shook his head. “Not as funny as you think, trickster. I’m gonna go pull Sammy and Jo away from your buffet before they end up stomach sick.”

With that, Dean wandered off, plenty to worry about bouncing around in his head.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

There was a ‘hunter’s funeral’ (which was apparently a funeral pyre that prevented a body from being used/eaten by anything supernatural) going on out back for Craig Barnes, but Scott had opted out. He hadn’t known the guy and really didn’t know anyone in attendance. Nor was he particularly comfortable around everyone that would be out there and their looks right at that moment. So, he’d stayed inside with the angels and the kids.

Scott was a bit amazed that the younger ones were handling things so well. Of course, Dean was a hunter and had been one even when they’d met two years ago. Actually, he’d probably been involved with the supernatural for most of his life if all the stories Scott had heard could be believed. And this wasn’t Sam’s first run-in with angels either. The police officer remembered back to that day in the hospital when they’d been confronted by Raphael and Zachariah. The then-eight year old had been terrified, yet remarkably brave. So really, Scott should’ve guessed that the Winchester children would hold up well even under these circumstances. And as for Jo, she’d been completely upset until Gabriel had provided the snacks. Nothing like way too much sugar to distract a child. But still, she seemed shaken and the cop was willing to bet that this was her first encounter with something like this. A few minutes ago, Jo had come up to him and shyly thanked him for saving her life before running off to play a card game with Sam. Dean was now sitting close by, Cas not too far from them. And Gabriel was sitting back with his feet up on a table, eating a cupcake and reading some tabloid magazine that he’d produced from thin air. But the archangel kept eyeing Scott and the man knew that he was going to be having another conversation with him soon.

He looked down at the untouched food on his own plate. Just as long as no one gave him any more disturbing information. Because really, he didn’t think that his sanity could take much more. Scott had thought that he’d had a lot dropped on him a couple years back when he’d first learned of demons and angels and that he was one in a million that could perceive heavenly beings in their true form. Oh, and then he was almost killed by a demon and had to have months of physical therapy just to be able to use his right arm again (and the damned thing still bothered him sometimes… stupid knife wound and permanent nerve/muscle damage!). But he’d gotten back to work after that and figured that maybe his life wouldn’t get any more complicated. Scott hadn’t been stupid, though. He’d kept in contact with the Winchesters, called up both Bobby Singer and Pastor Jim Murphy, and had made certain that both his apartment and himself were always protected (holy water, holy oil, and an iron knife were always kept nearby; he knew all the symbols he’d need; and he’d gotten himself the anti-possession tattoo). He’d just foolishly believed that that was as deep into things as he’d ever get. But as it turned out, he was born into this mess. Hell, his ancestors were born into this mess! 

“You know, it took me a whole second to conjure that plate of food up and you’re just gonna let it go to waste.”

Scott looked up to see Gabriel standing over him. “Fine. Smite me then.”

Gabriel actually laughed. “Cheeky bastard.”

The officer just shook his head. “Not really. Just not in the mood for the verbal sparring I hear you and the kid doing so well. So, just spill whatever you came over here to tell me. And please do it without the theatrics.”

The archangel gave him a look, as if he was trying to read him. Scott wondered if he could. “Just wanted to tell you that you might want to get rid of that angel grace that you’re carrying around.”

And the floor seemed to drop out of his world again. “What?”

“Don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed it.”

“Well, I… there’s still that warm kind of feeling from when I… oh God, I’m carrying around their grace? It’s in me?”

“Well, what did you think happened to it? You pulled it right out of them and into yourself.”

“Well, yeah… but… what’s it doing to me?” He really wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Nothing. Angel grace can’t do anything to you.”

“Oh.” Scott breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, how do I get rid of it?”

“Two options. Use it, or dispose of it. Well, you can also keep it for a rainy day, but I wouldn’t advise that since any other angel would notice and that would certainly draw attention.”

“No… that’s… that’s not an option. But what do you mean by use it or dispose of it?”

“Boy you’re thick. And here I’d pegged you as one of the smarter ones. Look, you can use the grace to do something that us angels do, but it’ll be a one-shot deal. You’ll use up one whole angel grace in one move. So, if you heal someone; poof, the grace is gone. But, if you have nothing to do with it, then just get rid of it.”

“How?” Scott really couldn’t think of a good use for angel grace, nor did he really want to use it. The others were already looking at him like he was some kind of freak. If he started doing the weird kinds of stuff that Gabriel did, he’d probably be joining Craig out on the funeral pyre.

“And how would I know that? I’m an angel, not a freak like you.” (Great even the crazy archangel thought he was a freak.) “But you seem to be doing a great job figuring everything out on your own so far.”

“If you call making it all up as I go along a ‘great job’.” Scott muttered. “Okay, fine. Here I go.”

The young officer concentrated on the warm, kind of buzzing sensation in his head that he’d been ignoring since he’d ripped the grace from that angel’s body. Scott had figured that it was some sort of aftereffect, not that he’d been carrying around the angel’s power source. It was weird, no matter how awful and evil an angel felt, their grace didn’t feel bad once it was separated from them. Which was a wonderful thing, since the warmth in his hand was from the tiny amount that he’d managed to drain from Uriel.

After a moment, all of the warmth seemed to respond to him and then Scott was at a loss for what to do next. How the hell did a person get rid of unwanted grace? Well, typically, he’d just throw away stuff he didn’t want… With a sigh, the cop focused and tried to gather all the energy together into his right hand. It seemed to work, as his hand began to warm up quite a bit, but not enough to hurt. 

Once he’d gathered all the grace together, Scott thought about expelling it, but decided to try to do it slowly, since he was unsure what would happen next. As he pushed with his thoughts, his hand began to glow and he almost lost his nerve. Scott was aware that every eye in the bar was on him, and was relieved that all the hunters were out back and wouldn’t see this. The kids seemed to like him (Dean respected him, Sam and him had bonded back at the hospital, and Jo was grateful that he’d saved her life) so they probably wouldn’t freak out and the angels… well, they were angels. 

Scott took a deep breath and continued to try and release the grace. A wispy tendril of light escaped his skin and he heard Jo exclaim “Wow!” at the same time that Sam said “Cool.”. Even Scott had to admit that it looked pretty neat. 

He was focused on the process of expelling the grace when suddenly he was grabbed by the shoulder. “Stop!” Gabriel ordered.

“Why?” Scott asked, holding the grace half inside of him and half out. Which, for the record, was not an easy task.

“Because you might need that grace after all.”

“What? Why?” The cop questioned, but feeling a sense of urgency coming from both angels, he immediately concentrated on pulling the grace back into his body. This time, the action caused him a bit of discomfort.

Instead of answering him, Gabriel turned to Castiel. “You getting what I’m getting?”

“Yes. Dean, take your brother and Jo to the safe room here. I’ll go bring the others back inside. There are a great number of demons coming. And they are very close.”

Scott’s eyes immediately went to the window, but there was nothing out there to see yet. Great. First angels and then demons. This was starting to feel very familiar. Of course the last time he’d gone up against a demon, he’d barely made it through the experience alive. Hopefully things would work out a bit better this time.


	146. Good vs Evil

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Six: Good vs Evil 

It took no time at all for everyone to gather and come up with a plan. Running wasn’t a plan, unless Ellen and Bill were willing to give up their bar, their very home, forever. Dean knew that they wouldn’t and would never ask them to. But if they left now and didn’t make a stand, it might never be safe for the family to return. So, they got Missouri, Pamela, Sam, and Jo into a safe room in the back (that was built similar to Bobby’s panic room thanks to an exchange of information years ago) and then started handing out weapons and dictating the best places for people. 

In the end, it was decided that Bill, Ellen, Dean’s parents, Bobby, Pastor Jim, and Caleb would stay inside the bar and draw devil’s traps. Then they’d get ready with holy water, iron weapons, salt, and then they’d fight and exorcise any demons that made it inside. Cas, Gabriel, Anderson, and Dean were heading outside to confront and kill as many demons as they could. Dean wasn’t so sure about putting the cop on the frontlines, as the guy had only met one demon before, but the man had the stolen grace inside him and Dean had loaned him the Colt since the policeman had assured him that he was a great shot. That left Dean with the knife. The two angels were a no-brainer. They had their blades and smiting power (and yeah, Gabe had assured Cas that he could smite the hell outta the demons and the archangel would shield his use of the power from other angels). The battle wouldn’t be easy, but they had to win it. 

Dean stepped outside and took a deep breath. It hadn’t been easy convincing the others to let him be the one to go out. But he had the most demon fighting experience by far. Besides, it was his job to protect his family. 

The teenage hunter checked his pockets. Holy water? Check. Iron pocket knife (just in case he had his demon killing weapon knocked from his grasp)? Check. He was as prepared as he could be. So where were the demons? Cas and Gabriel had said that they were close by…

Suddenly, as if they were reading his thoughts, black-eyed SOBs started teleporting themselves right in front of their group. Dean clutched his knife and stood at the ready. The angels positioned themselves on either side of him. Anderson stepped up in front of their little group and Dean could tell by his stance that he was nervous. He had every right to be.

It had been decided that since none of them knew what was going to happen when the officer released the grace in an attempt to smite the demons, that the safest play would be to have Anderson go first and have everyone else stay behind him and (hopefully) out of the way.

When it seemed that all the demons had finally gathered (and boy was there a crapload of them), one stepped forward with a malicious grin on his face. Dean knew that Gabriel was doing his best to shield the fact that Anderson was carrying around angel grace, but the trickery was a bit difficult because no angel powers could work directly on the cop himself, so the illusion had to be cast around him. And Dean had a feeling that that wouldn’t be the only illusion that Gabriel would be playing with that night. He’d told the archangel to stow the games and take the fight seriously (since chainsaw wielding maniacs and man-eating alligators from the sewers can’t kill demons) but he knew that Gabe might not be able to help himself once he got going. Besides, reality altering crap might provide a nice distraction so long as it stayed out of the good guys’ way. 

Dean watched as the demons, with evil-smiley-guy in the lead, crowded forward. Anderson, to his credit, didn’t back down. For the second time that night, Dean found himself admiring the guy’s bravery. Two years ago, he’d heard about how the guy had faced down angels and a demon, but had never seen the cop in action.

“Don’t know who you are, but move aside before your insides are painting the pavement.” Smiley threatened. “We’re here for the kid.”

Well, that answered part of that question. They’d wondered what had brought the demons. Pastor Jim had suggested that they’d come because of the exorcisms in the nearby town, but everyone had kind of doubted that. Now the question was whether they were there because they were working with the angels (like Gabe had said) or if these ones had just followed behind to see what was going on (like the one had two years ago… and like the angels had followed the demons way back when Dean was ‘five’.).

“Well, you can’t have him.” Anderson countered. 

The demon snorted. “Guess I’ll just take him over your torn up bloody corpse then.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s original.” Dean muttered.

The demon pulled out a wicked looking knife. Good. If he’d decided to just kill Anderson with his demonic powers, things might’ve gotten messy. But they’d been betting on the fact that demons liked to enjoy their torture and killing, and Anderson didn’t really look much like a threat. He’d kept the Colt in his holster, under his shirt, so the demons wouldn’t see that either. Things were going as planned. So far.

Smiley demon stepped toward them, face almost splitting as his grin got even wider. But before he could get any closer, Anderson darted forward and pressed his palm up against the guy’s forehead. Dean was all set to see the typical smiting routine, but that was not what happened. 

Light radiated out from Anderson’s hand and the demon’s eyes widened before they started to softly glow. Then the demon’s body shook violently, the knife falling from his hand, and the light seemed to seep out of the possessed man’s skin and the glow spread out to enter over a dozen other demons. Dean shielded his eyes, trying to see what was happening, but also wanting to protect his vision. The demons not effected by the light stepped away from those that were, afraid of what was happening. All the effected demons started shaking and convulsing, their eyes glowing but not burning. Then suddenly their mouths opened and black demon clouds were expelled out. But the clouds appeared to be wrapped up in that bright light and then they seemed to catch fire from the inside and burned away within seconds. The once possessed humans dropped to the ground. Dean wasn’t sure if they were alive or not and he really didn’t have time to check.

Anderson stumbled back and Cas was there to grab him before he fell. Dean looked over at him.

“What the hell was that?”

“I… I don’t know. I was about to smite them like Gabriel had instructed but at the last moment I was thinking about how I wanted to just kill the demons and not the people they were possessing and… and that happened.”

Dean saw the two angels exchange a look. He was willing to bet that they’d never seen anything like that either. Too bad that Anderson could only do it once. 

“You feeling well enough to grab the gun and continue the fight?” Dean asked quietly. The demons were staying back, eyeing the group nervously. But it wouldn’t be long before they realized that they weren’t going to strike like that again.

“Yeah.” He sounded wary and a bit in shock, but Dean decided to take him at his word.

With a nod, Dean signaled for the angels to move out and go on the attack. When he saw both of them start in on the demons, the young hunter lunged at the one that was closest to him. The thing possessing the guy was still a bit in shock over what he’d just seen and didn’t even notice Dean until it was too late. The boy drove the knife up and into the demon’s heart, then pulled it out and turned before the body had even dropped. A female demon was rushing him and he stepped aside and splashed holy water into her face. As she screeched, he slit her throat. Then he ran at another demon and sliced his knee to drop the guy to the ground. Once the creature was down, Dean delivered the killing blow and moved on. He managed to take out another two before a demon decided to use its powers against him. 

The teen suddenly found himself flying through the air and slamming up against the outside wall of the Roadhouse. He was pinned there for a moment while a pissed off demon stalked towards him. Dean was trying to figure out how to get out of the situation when suddenly a shot rang out and the demon fell to the ground dead. The hunter dropped to the pavement and landed on his feet. He turned his head, then waved his thanks to Anderson for the save. 

A moment later he was back in the fight. From the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas smite a demon while simultaneously stabbing another with his blade. Awesome! 

The young hunter drove his knife into the stomach of a demon and then gasped when he felt something cut deep into his arm. Dean flung himself to the ground and away from whatever had hurt him. He turned around and saw a possessed woman holding a knife and laughing. Dean was about to attack when suddenly a bunch of little tiny cherubs (the kind like on Valentine’s cards, not like the actual Cupid… thank God) came flying out of nowhere shooting arrows at the demons. The boy groaned. What the hell had Gabriel been drinking when he came up with _this_ idea? But it worked. There was general confusion among the demons and Dean easily killed the demon chick along with two others. 

Then a cry from his left grabbed his attention. Anderson was on the ground, bleeding from a head wound with a demon standing over him. The Colt was lying a few feet away. The demon lifted his hand and Dean knew that the monster was about to end the cop with his powers. The young hunter flipped his knife so that he was holding it by the blade, took quick aim, and threw it. The weapon ended up buried in the demon’s chest. It fell to the ground dead just inches from where Anderson was lying. Dean ran over to retrieve his knife and check on the officer.

“You okay?” He asked as he pulled the knife from the demon.

“Yeah… thanks.”

“Not a problem. Here.” Dean kicked the Colt over to Anderson. He kept an eye on the man until the guy was back on his feet. He seemed slightly dazed, but when he shot a demon in the forehead a few seconds later, Dean stopped worrying and went back to the fight.

The hunter could hear some commotion coming from inside the bar and knew that at least a couple of the demons had made it past them and into the Roadhouse. Damn. He hoped that everyone would be alright. 

He suddenly felt someone grab onto him and then that familiar displacement of angel travel. A moment later he was a few meters away from his previous position and saw Bobby’s truck lying upside down right in that very spot. His eyes widened. That would’ve hurt.

Cas released him and the two went back to the fight without a word. Dean turned and saw Gabriel deliver a huge smiting to several nearby demons. Wow. The hunter looked around to locate the next demon to kill and realized that they were finally all down. They’d done it. 

“Whoa, that was awesome.” He got out between breaths. 

“Please tell me that this isn’t what you do for fun.” Anderson shot back, holding his hand up to his head wound. 

“Nah, I typically desecrate graves when I need entertainment.” Dean replied.

“My usual form of entertainment is a lot less physical.” Gabriel responded.

“Good to know.” Anderson nodded and then winced.

“Let’s get inside and get that looked at.” Dean suggested. He wasn’t worried about anyone in the Roadhouse, because he could see most of them gathered at the windows, looking out. 

“Your arm is bleeding pretty badly as well.” Cas pointed out. “You’ll need your father to take care of it.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You really have spent far too long pretending to be one of them.” With a wave of his hand, Dean felt the pain in his arm that he’d been ignoring immediately disappear.

Dean pulled at the tear in his sleeve to get a look. Under the blood, the deep cut was gone. “Thanks. Why don’t you fix him up too?” He motioned towards the cop.

“Uh… did you miss the part where no angel powers work on him?”

“Not even helpful ones?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

“That sucks. If he had some of the grace still, could he use it to heal himself?”

“Still no. His body is immune to angel grace and powers and all that.”

“Well, if he can’t heal me,” Anderson interrupted. “Can we at least go inside so that I can sit down?”

“Yeah, c’mon.” Dean started leading the way back toward the bar.

“I’ll check on the humans that Anderson expelled the demons from.” Cas announced. “If they are alive, I’ll bring them someplace safe.”

“They’ll probably be some more inside that the others exorcised.” Dean pointed out.

Cas nodded, then started forward to look for survivors in the carnage. Gabriel stayed near him as Dean and Anderson headed back into the Roadhouse. They’d survived the fight (although without the angels, Dean doubted that the outcome would’ve been as favorable). But if demons and angels were stepping up their game, how long would they continue to be that lucky?


	147. Picnic

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Seven: Picnic 

Sunday morning Dean woke and got out of bed, nodding to Cas that he could leave and go do what he had to do. It had been decided that until Anderson could transfer to a police department a bit closer to their area and move for his own protection, that Cas would check up on him in the mornings just to make certain that nothing had happened. Not that there would be much that the angel would be able to do if he ever got there and found the cop dead, but it was better than nothing. And at the very least, Cas could rush him to the hospital if he was injured but still alive.

The young hunter walked across his room and opened his dresser. He pulled out a pair of jeans, clean underwear, socks, and a black AC/DC tee. Dean brought all his clothes into the bathroom and tossed them onto the closed toilet seat cover. Then he started up the shower and climbed in. He closed his eyes against the spray of warm water and thought back to all that had happened over the long Friday night. 

After winning the battle against the demons, and having Cas bring the surviving hosts someplace safe and dispose of the dead bodies, everyone had gathered back in the bar. There were few injuries among those that had remained in the Roadhouse, and they’d been promptly healed. Dean’s dad had tried to get everyone to focus on discussing what would come next, but that hadn’t happened. Instead, Gabriel and Cas were ambushed with questions until Gabe had rolled his eyes and disappeared. Dean wasn’t worried. The archangel would be back when needed (hell, he might even come when called), but the young hunter wasn’t surprised that Gabriel hadn’t stuck around for the arguing aftermath. Dean himself had wanted to just disappear at points. Especially when the conversation had turned to him and how he fought so well and what secrets he was hiding. Dean tried to give the line about how he couldn’t let them know for their own safety, but when he still got questioned, he just flipped everyone off and wandered into the backroom where Sam and Jo were sleeping (it had gotten very late by that point). By that time, Anderson was also out, having laid his head down on a table and fallen asleep almost immediately. Concussions will do that to a guy. So when the topic turned to him, the group was just talking about him rather than questioning him directly. Which was fine, since the cop wouldn’t have any more answers than anyone else. Dean had remained in the back, Cas joining him soon enough (whether to offer moral support or to flee from the arguing, Dean was unsure), until his parents came to tell him that they were going home. Cas brought Anderson home first (the guy wasn’t in good enough shape to drive), Bobby next (his truck was still lying upside down in the parking lot), and then they had all gone home. 

Dean turned the shower off. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that night. Yeah, they’d won against both angels and demons, gotten Gabriel on board their team, and learned some new info. But now there was a bit of tension between themselves and some of their friends. Hopefully it would fade as the others got used to the idea that Cas was an angel and that Dean couldn’t reveal his full story just yet. And hopefully his parents would get tired of asking him questions about the time that he went out and contacted Gabriel. Right, and maybe Hell would give up torturing souls and set up an amusement park instead. 

But today he had other things to worry about. Namely, trying to act as ‘normal’ as possible while around Emily’s family. Since there wasn’t any particular crisis that day, Dean saw no reason to call off his promise of being there for his friend during her family reunion cookout thingy. So he threw on his clothes, ran a hand through his hair, and then exited the bathroom. The young hunter took the stairs two at a time and then made his way past the dining room, where Sam was eating a bowl of Lucky Charms, and into the kitchen to pour himself some. Once done, he flopped down at the table.

“Hi, Dean.” His brother greeted through a mouthful of cereal.

“Hey.”

“I read the comics already if you want them.” The younger boy pushed the newspaper over. 

“Nah, that’s okay.”

“Boys, we don’t talk with our mouths full.” Their mom scolded from the kitchen, where she was starting a pot of coffee.

“Obviously we do.” Dean pointed out.

“Well, we don’t if we don’t want to be grounded for a week.” She retorted.

He rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry, mom.” Sam’s apology lost a bit of sincerity though, since his mouth was completely stuffed with marshmallow cereal.

Dean laughed as his mom scowled a bit. Then they all started a bit as Cas appeared in the room.

“How’s Anderson?” Sam asked, immediately breaking the rule that their mother had just set.

“He is well. Although I don’t think I should startle him while he is cooking anymore.”

Dean groaned. “Please don’t tell me you got the poor guy hurt more.”

“The burn did not appear too severe.” Cas sounded somewhat defensive.

“Great. He’s eventually going to break off all ties with us if all we do is put the dude in harm’s way.”

“That was not my intent.”

“We know, Cas.” Sam consoled. “And once he moves closer, he’ll see that not every day with us leads to disaster.”

“Just most of them.” Dean added, shoveling the last of his breakfast into his mouth. 

“I suppose it’s far too late to teach you table manners.” His mom complained.

“Yep.” Dean got up and put his bowl in the sink. He wanted to make a follow-up remark about his upbringing, but he couldn’t due to the fact that Sam was in the room. “Well, Emily will be here any moment, so I’m gonna get going. See you guys later.”

“Dean’s got a daaaaaate.” Sam sung, horribly off key.

“Shut up.” Dean shot back with a shake of his head. 

“You like her.” His little brother accused with a grin.

“Dude, she’s _sixteen_!”

“So, you’re only two years younger.” Sam replied with a shrug.

“Wasn’t my point.” Dean muttered. His love life was gonna totally suck until he was old enough to date girls that were legal. Because no matter what physical age he was, being with a sixteen year old when he was mentally an adult just seemed wrong. 

Still, as he headed for the door, he heard Sam making little kissing noises. Kid brothers… annoying as all hell.

Dean got outside just in time to see a blue car pull up in front of the house. Emily waved to him from the driver’s seat. The hunter smiled and waved back as he approached. Dean had wanted to drive, but he wasn’t allowed to without an adult in the car. So instead, he slid into the passenger seat.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Dean.”

“Cas is in the back.”

“Figured.” She glanced to the seemingly empty back seat as she pulled away from the house. “Hi, Cas.”

“Hello, Emily.”

“That’s freaky.” She commented with a smile.

“Hey, not everyone gets an angel looking out for them while they drive.” Dean mentioned.

“That a comment on my driving?” She wanted to know.

“I’ll let you know if we reach the picnic grounds in one piece.”

“Dork.”

Dean laughed. 

“Actually, I am not here due to any lack in confidence of your skills as a driver but to make certain that no angels or demons attempt to harm Dean.” Cas stated.

“See!” Emily exclaimed to Dean. “You’re the trouble-maker, not me.”

“Ah, Cas just wants to spare your feeling.”

“Well, at least someone in this car is nice.”

“Hey, _I’m_ nice.” Dean defended. “And by saying that, you’re agreeing with me that Cas was only saying that to be kind because you’re driving is awful.”

“My driving is great! Maybe I haven’t been at it since I was fourteen, but I’ve been practicing a lot and I stay in the speed limit and haven’t been even close to being in an accident.”

“You forgot to signal a turn a minute ago.” Dean revealed.

“Oh, like you’ve never made a mistake while driving.”

“Dean has in fact…”

“Be quiet, Cas.” Dean snapped.

Emily laughed. “So… moving right along, did you have fun so far this weekend?”

“Uh… if you consider almost being killed and having to face down a horde of demons to be ‘fun’, then yeah, it was a blast.”

“Well, not _my_ idea of fun, but since you’re a bit odd, I’m sure _you_ enjoyed yourself.”

Dean shrugged. “Well, the demon fight was kinda awesome. And we suffered no casualties, so that was good. How was your weekend?”

“Now it seems really boring.” She laughed. “I got roped into helping prepare salads and pies for today.”

“What kind of pies?”

“Is that all you care about?”

“Most important thing we’ve discussed thus far.”

“Well, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“That’s torture.” He accused.

“Sorry.” Emily didn’t sound a bit sorry.

A few minutes later, she pulled the car into the parking area of a state park. They got out and Emily grabbed a picnic basket from the backseat. 

“Stay in stealth mode, Cas, and just wander around.” Dean instructed. “Have fun and I’ll save you some dessert.”

Dean followed Emily up a grassy hill and across a field to where a bunch of picnic tables had been pushed together. A whole group of people were already gathered around, talking and laughing. The young hunter only recognized two.

“Emily, glad you showed. Oh, and you remembered to bring the bread! Great!” Her mom rushed over to snatch the basket from the girl’s hand. “Dean, so nice to see you. How are you?”

“Doing well, Mrs. Sullivan.” He replied politely. He’d met her parents a couple of times and they seemed taken with him; giving him credit for saving Emily from being hit by the car two years ago and commenting on how nice it was that he’d been able to skip grades.

“Good. It’s nice that you were able to join us today. Maybe Emily won’t sulk the whole time this year.”

“Mom.” Emily complained.

“Well, it’s true.”

Dean couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. But then came the whirlwind of introductions of aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, her parents’ cousins, and others that Dean didn’t quite understand their relations. He hoped that this close to everyone, Cas would be able to tell if any of them were playing host to demons or angels. Emily was protected by the charm, but her extended family wasn’t. Not that he really believed that anyone was really possessed, but the events of Friday night had made him super paranoid. 

He heard comments about himself ranging from his age to the still faintly visible scar on his face from back when his body was five to his clothes, but ignored them all. It really didn’t matter what anyone here thought of him. Not like he’d ever see these people again. Unless of course his friend begged him into coming again next year… you know, provided the world hadn’t ended by then.

Dean hopped up onto one of the picnic tables and put his feet on the bench. Emily sat down next to him. 

“So, when do we eat?” He asked.

“Is that all you think about?”

“You promised burgers and pie…”

“And you’ll get them. But first the grown-ups talk while the little kids run around and play games. In about an hour they’ll fire up the grill and then we’ll eat.”

“Guess I won’t starve before then.”

“Hey, you can’t sit up there. That’s where the food goes!” A little girl, about six or so, was standing looking up at them with a scandalized expression on her face. Dean thought that he remembered her being introduced as Julie or something like that.

“Well, the food’s not out right now, Julie.” He told her with a smile.

“My name is Judy.” She corrected him with a stomp of her foot. “And it doesn’t matter. You’re breaking a rule and you’re gonna get in trouble.”

Dean shrugged. “I wasn’t told of this rule, so I don’t think that it applies to me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re just as stupid as your girlfriend. I’m telling my mommy.”

Dean watched her run off, presumably towards her mother. Then he turned towards Emily. “Holy crap, was she for real?”

“Told you my little cousins were bratty.”

“I should’ve splashed her with holy water just to be certain that nothing was up.”

Emily laughed. “If she’s possessed, then the demon’s been in her for the last two years. And its twin is in her older sister.”

Dean groaned. “And I typically don’t mind kids.”

“If you want to avoid them, let’s go join the adults over there playing Frisbee.”

“Well, it’ll get my ass off this table before I get in trouble for contaminating our eating space.” 

They played for quite a while and Dean won the respect of several of Emily’s family members for his physical abilities during the game. But really, running around and jumping or diving to catch a flying disk was nothing compared to the rigors of hunting. Still, it turned out to actually be fun and they all sat down at the tables afterwards to grab cold drinks.

Not too long after that, Dean found himself biting into a hot, juicy cheese burger. 

“So Dean, I’m told you are ahead in school?” An uncle of Emily’s started.

Dean nodded.

“Well, you must be exceptionally bright then. What are your plans for the future?”

Dean thought about his conversation with his shop teacher. He swallowed his food before responding (his mom would be so proud). “Don’t know yet. Something involving cars.”

“Dean’s great at repairing automobiles.” Emily informed everyone who was listening. “He sometimes helps his uncle who owns an auto salvage yard.”

“That’s interesting.” The dude sounded anything but interested.

“How did you two meet?” The guy’s wife asked. A stupid question really.

Emily must’ve thought so as well. “Uh… school.” The ‘duh’ went unspoken. “Grade school actually. When Dean skipped ahead into fourth grade from second, we ended up in the same class.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

Dean and Emily exchanged looks. They’d clearly picked the wrong spot to sit. They were asked a bunch of other pointless questions throughout their meal and the hunter began to realize why his friend hated these get togethers. At the ones he usually went to, the topics were a lot more interesting. Then again, at least here, no one would be accused of being evil or have weapons pulled on them.

After eating his second piece of apple pie, Dean excused himself from the table. He and Emily started to wander away from the group of tables and down to where a path led off to a small stream. 

“I’m sorry about them.” Emily apologized. “If I knew that they’d treat you the way that they treat my older cousins’ dates, I never would’ve…”

“It’s fine.” Dean cut her off. “The food was great and now we can avoid them like all Hell until it’s time to go.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When they got to the stream, Dean bent down and picked up a small flat stone. Then he threw it and watched as it skipped in the water. Emily copied his action and made a face when hers didn’t go as far.

“Almost, but not quite.” Dean teased.

“I’ll get it next time.”

“Not likely.”

Dean threw another. Then Emily went. Dean’s still skipped one extra time and he spun around to laugh at her. She’d apparently anticipated his gloating, because the teen girl made a face and pushed him backwards. Dean stumbled and his foot slid on the wet, slippery rocks. He ended up falling backwards into the cold water. 

The stream wasn’t deep, and he luckily braced himself so his head didn’t hit any rocks, but still, Dean ended up going under briefly and getting completely soaked. He sat up, sputtering and coughing. Emily was cracking up laughing, so Dean grabbed at his left arm and put on a pained expression.

“Oh my God! Dean! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to…” She was talking as she rushed towards him and the hunter swept his foot out and knocked her into the water with him.

Emily landed on him, getting all wet but not hurt. It was Dean’s turn to laugh. “I can’t believe you fell for that!”

“You suck!” She exclaimed, splashing him with more water. Which was pointless, since there wasn’t a dry spot on him.

“Hey, you started this!” He protested.

“No, you did. By… by being you!”

Dean laughed again. After a moment, they both pulled themselves up and out of the stream. It was not a very warm day (not a day that called for jackets, but certainly not a good day for swimming), and they were soaking wet. And damn but that water was freezing cold. The two teens shivered as they stepped back out onto the dry ground.

“Well, that was fun.” Dean commented.

“My mom is gonna kill me.” 

“Not if we die from hypothermia first.” 

“You are such an optimist.” Emily giggled.

“It’s a gift.”

They started to make their way back towards the path when suddenly Dean heard something behind him. And the sound came with a light trace of sulfur smell.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice was barely audible but the warning was clear.

The hunter turned around and came face to face with a very familiar figure.

“Hello, Dean.” He was greeted.

“Hello, Crowley.”


	148. Demon Deal

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Eight: Demon Deal 

Crowley was a demon. I didn’t take a genius to figure that out; just someone with the right information. And Dean had made certain that Emily had the right information. So when her friend had turned around at Cas’ call and stood at attention and Emily smelled that faint sulfur smell, she knew exactly what they were facing. She’d always figured that the next time she was facing a demon she’d be just as terrified as the last two times, especially after hearing some of Dean’s stories. But she wasn’t. She had a monster hunter at her side, an invisible angel at her back, and she had more knowledge of these things than ever before. She was nervous, but not shaking with fear.

“Dean.” The demon greeted.

“Crowley.” Dean replied, seeming far too calm.

The demon seemed taken aback. So, Dean knew it, but the demon didn’t know how. Just more unexplainable stuff about her best friend. It was nice to know that he could confuse even demonic entities just as easily as he could normal humans.

“Well, I seem to be at a disadvantage here, as you appear to have some kind of knowledge that I was unaware of.”

“Can the act.” Dean snapped. “If you’re here, it’s because you know that there’s something not normal about me. So me knowing about you, while unexpected, shouldn’t be that much of a shock.”

“Point to you.” Crowley smiled. “You’re a smart one, Dean. Perhaps we can get along.”

Emily watched the demon closely. He didn’t seem like Lilith at all. He wasn’t threatening or imposing. He kind of seemed charming, yet slightly oily… like a really good used car salesman. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Never turns out to my advantage. But I would love to know how you tracked me here.”

“Oh, you mean because of all your family’s precautions? Well, I did my research. And I followed your little girlfriend there around. Figured she’d lead me to you eventually.”

Okay, that was disconcerting. 

“If you ever lay even a finger on her… hell, if you even _think_ of it…”

Crowley waved him off. “Yes, I’m quite aware of what you’re capable of. Loved your work with Azazel and Lilith.”

Emily made a face. “Dean and his family killed Lilith.”

Crowley looked at her briefly before turning back to Dean. “She’s slow, isn’t she?”

Dean glared at him. “She’s just trying to talk on your level.” Then he glanced sideways to address her. “Yeah, we killed her. Azazel too. Both were demons trying to start the apocalypse. Crowley here’s the King of the Crossroads. Fancy title for a demon in charge of deals. And he’s against the whole idea of raising Lucifer.”

Again, Crowley seemed startled. “And just where are you getting your information?”

“I have my ways. But I guess the real question is; why are you here? And why now? Because I’m going to assume that that was your little demon stooge that was harassing my classmate a couple years back and asking about me, yet nothing happened.”

“Of course I didn’t make a move to contact you back then.” Crowley seemed almost insulted at the thought. “I like to be fully informed before approaching a deal. Besides, you needed to be in the right frame of mind.”

“You mean that you waited until you knew that I was being hassled by both the angels and demons and then you figured that maybe I was desperate enough to hear you out. Good plan. Or it would be if I didn’t have enough backup without resorting to demon deals.”

“You mean that angel on your shoulder that is probably slinking around here somewhere?” The demon replied casually. It was Dean’s turn to look startled. “Oh, I know all about your friend in high places. Don’t have a proper name for him yet, but I know that you somehow conned an angel to your side.”

Emily glanced at Dean and saw that he’d recovered from his shock and had a mask of indifference firmly in place. “And angel trumps demon every time.”

“Or it would, _if_ you didn’t need an ear in low places.”

Dean cocked his head to the side. “What’ve you heard?”

“Oh Half-pint, you can’t get something for nothing.”

“If you think I’m buying anything without looking at the merchandise first, you’ve got another thought coming. And the price has to be right too. No souls involved. And I _don’t_ seal the deal with a kiss.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You don’t seem to understand how this deal making process works.”

“Sure I do. You need my help, so you’ll agree to my conditions.”

Emily almost laughed. A fourteen year old kid was telling a demon what to do. 

“ _I_ need _your_ help? I believe that it’s the other way around.”

“Uh huh. You know, if Lucifer rises, I still have options to get rid of his fallen-angel ass. But you… you he’ll roast over an open flame like a marshmallow. ‘Cause see, your fears of his opinion of your kind are not unfounded. And you’ll be at the top of his list since, if you don’t give me a fair deal now, I’ll make certain that he knows that you tried to screw his plans over.”

Now _this_ seemed to upset Crowley “Why you little… I come here willing to make a deal to benefit us both and you resort to threats?”

“I know your deals, Crowley.” Dean informed him calmly, yet forcefully. “And while you uphold them down to the last letter, if you want to screw someone over, that someone ends up screwed. And that someone is not gonna be me or any of mine. So yeah, you got something to offer, let’s hear it. But the deal is still gonna be on my terms.”

Crowley smiled. It was not a nice smile at all. Kind of like how Emily imagined a shark would look at a school full of small fish. “Or, perhaps I can make you a deal that you can’t refuse. Say, your cooperation for the life of that little girlfriend standing next to you.”

Emily narrowed her eyes. There was just no way in the world that she was going to let this slimy demon salesman turn her into a bargaining piece. She’d smacked the demon Lilith in the head with a curtain rod back in that alley when she was just a terrified little kid, so she wasn’t going to let this thing frighten her now. At least not too much (after all, you’d have to be completely insane to not be at least a little nervous around demons).

She reached into her pocket. Her Ziploc baggie of rock salt was there but she was quite certain that it was probably drenched (despite how the commercials claimed that the bags ‘locked’ so tight that they’d be water-proof), but that was fine, because she also had a small bottle of holy water. Without hesitation, she pulled it out, popped off the stopper, and splashed it out at Crowley.

Dean actually laughed as the liquid hit the demon and the guy jumped back and made a hissing noise as steam rose off of him.

“What the bloody hell?!” Crowley yelped. 

“You’re not getting anywhere near me.” Emily informed him.

“Oh, you have a feisty one there. But that won’t stop me from…”

“You won’t touch her.” Dean stated. “You’re far too smart for that. See, the moment you even look at a member of my family, or one of my friends the wrong way, you become my enemy. And of all the demons out there, you seem to be the only one intelligent enough to realize that if you’re on my team, you’re on the winning side.”

“Nicely put.” Crowley admitted. “But this is the only deal I offer. _I_ give you information that I find out about what the players down there are planning and when and where they’re putting their plays into action. _You_ do whatever it takes to make certain that their plans do not come to pass. And if I have enemies that I need eliminating due to my helping you, you eliminate them.”

“What? You can’t take on other demons?” Emily asked in an unimpressed tone. 

“Oh I can, Love. But why get my hands dirty, make more noise than I should, and bring the spotlight on myself?”

Emily saw Dean nod. “Fine, but I only eliminate your enemies if they’re evil creatures. And you stay clear of making deals with hunters.”

“Oh, now you’re going to cut into my business?”

“Take it or leave it, Crowley.”

“Fine, fine. You have yourself a deal. And for you, we’ll shake.”

Dean shook his head. “Hell, no. This is a word of mouth deal, Crowley. I don’t trust you with anything else.”

Emily watched her friend carefully. It was weird to see him standing there, talking with, _making deals with_ , a demon. The other two times she’d seen him face down a demon, he’d fought and the creature had ended up dead. But he somehow knew this one (even if it didn’t recognize him) and was trying to take advantage of the situation to make things better for his family. Even if it meant an alliance with a demon. Emily just hoped that he knew what he was doing.

Crowley rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of long-suffering. “Fine. But a deal is a deal.”

“And we _both_ honor it.”

“Why Dean, if you know my reputation and you still question my integrity, you wound me.”

“Not yet, but I’m more than capable.”

The demon just sent him a sly grin. “Well, to honor my part _already_ , I’ll let you know that Alastair is planning a trip topside within the next year or so.”

Emily didn’t think that she’d ever seen Dean go so pale before. “For what?”

“Don’t know. Very hush hush. But your name was mentioned.”

“Crowley…”

“Believe me, that’s all I know. If I had more, I’d let you know. If he could be eliminated, we’d all be happier.”

“If you find out anymore…”

“I’ll waste a dime calling you. Yes.”

With that, the demon disappeared. 

Emily turned to Dean. He stood there, tense and staring at the spot where Crowley had been. She knew that it hadn’t been that particular demon that had effected him like this, but the name that the salesdemon had dropped. Alastair. Whoever that was must be really bad to upset Dean to that extent. As curious as she was, there was no way she’d press the issue. Best to change the subject.

“So, making deals with demons, huh? And here I though this would be a boring picnic.”

That seemed to snap him out of it. “Then you shouldn’t have invited me.”

“How do you know him? That freaky thing where you somehow saw your future?” She still hadn’t gotten him to explain anymore about that, but she knew he had experienced his own future. The way he’d talked that night in the playground, combined with the fact that he just acted differently than most kids and knew stuff he shouldn’t, supported her theory. 

“Yeah. But he’s not supposed to get involved until after Lucifer rises. For him to be making contact now means that he must be unnerved by what’s going on. Meaning that the demons are talking about making a move.”

“Now?”

Dean shrugged. “Hard to tell. They make plans sometimes that can take years to set into motion. And Crowley is a master planner, so he’d be trying to stay ahead of the others.”

“Can you trust him?”

Her friend snorted. “Hell no. Crowley looks out for Crowley. He wants Lucifer either to stay locked up or to be destroyed because Luci’s plan includes the destruction of all demon-kind. Only most demons are too stupid to realize this. Crowley also wants all upper level demons out of the way so he can trade in the title ‘King of the Crossroads’ for the title ‘King of Hell’.”

“Ambitious.”

“Yeah. And if I stay ahead of him, I can use it against him. But if he takes the lead, then things go to crap.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Go back to the picnic grounds, get another slice of pie, and try to figure out how to tell my parents that I just made a deal with a demon.”

Emily laughed. “Well, if they kill you, then you don’t have to worry about the apocalypse.”

“Far too optimistic a thought for my life.” 

Trying to ignore her soggy shoes, Emily started off along the path by his side. It took them no time at all to get back to her family. It seemed weird though. Like she was stepping from Dean’s world back into her own. The moment that her mom saw them, she began walking their way.

“Emily! How did you get yourself all soaking wet! And Dean! You too? What were you two up to?”

Okay. Maybe she preferred Dean’s world. “We fell in the stream, Mom.”

“I always tell you to be careful around water. You both could’ve drowned.”

“It was like, a couple feet of water.”

“And what if you hit your heads and were knocked unconscious?” Her mom countered. “They say that a person could drown in a puddle if the conditions were right.”

“I doubt that both of us would’ve been knocked out, Mom.”

“Well, even if Dean was okay, he’s smaller than you. I doubt that he could’ve gotten you out of the stream before you drowned.” Yep, her mom was in complete panic-mother mode.

Suddenly, Emily let out a little shriek as she found herself up off the ground and in Dean’s arms. “Not a problem, Mrs. Sullivan. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to your daughter.” Dean assured Emily’s mom. Damn, he was strong for his size. 

Emily wiggled and her friend put her down. “And I would’ve dragged him out too if he’d have needed it.” She added. “Besides, it was just an accident.” Okay, that part was a lie.

Her mom looked between them. “Okay… but just please be more careful from now on. And we didn’t pack any extra clothes, so stay out in the sun where it’s warmer so that you don’t get sick.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom.” Once her mother had walked off, she turned to Dean. “Can we please go back to facing down demons?”


	149. On the Lake

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Nine: On the Lake 

The wind was whipping through his hair and blowing right in his face as John steered their small boat further out onto the lake. He glanced down at the map to make certain that he was on the right track, and then back up at the shore that was barley visible in the distance. They’d passed an island just now, so he was fairly certain that they were still on course. Of course, Moosehead Lake had over eighty little islands, so it really meant nothing. But the contour of the land looked about right.

“Are we lost? ‘Cause I know that you’re not going to pull over and ask for directions.” Mary turned her head and grinned back at him from the front of their motor boat. Okay, it was a wooden rowboat with a crappy little motor stuck on the back, but it would get them where they needed to be.

“Hey, you find a gas station floating out here, and I’ll be more than happy to do it.”

She laughed and tried to brush her wind swept hair out of her face. It was a losing battle. “I can’t believe that we’re out here looking for a lake monster. A lake monster! Really, John?”

He returned her laugh. “Yeah well, unless Nessie moved to Maine, I doubt we’re in for a lake monster. But Dean says not to discount the deaths out here. Maybe it’s a haunting or something. In any event, we get a week’s vacation in a cabin on the lake.”

She gave him a seductive look. “And if we beat the boys back to the cabin tonight, I brought along some supplies…”

“I knew there was a reason I married you.”

Now the suggestive look became a playful scowl. “Oh, so that’s all I’m good for?”

“Well, that and your cooking.”

“And you’re not getting either from now on.” Mary declared.

John laughed. Then he looked back out onto the lake. It was a big one. The largest lake in Maine, but still he couldn’t imagine how a creature could hide undetected in here for long. Of course, Dean had told him a story from his past (future?) where the ghost of a small child had been drowning the descendents of those that had killed him and those deaths had at first been mistaken for ‘lake monster’ murders. And a ghost wouldn’t need a place to hide.

“This is one of the spots.” John announced, cutting the engine. The boat drifted a little further before mostly stopping.

“Which victim?”

John consulted his notes. “Uh… Quinn Franks. Victim number two. It was over a week ago, so even if it was a spirit instead of a lake monster, there’d be no residual EMF.”

“Well, I’ll turn on the EMF detector anyway, just in case there’s something around now.” Mary suggested

John nodded. “Good idea. And we should repeat the actions of the victim to see if we can draw whatever this is out.”

“Is this an excuse to fish?”

“Yep.”

With a shake of her head, his wife opened up their waterproof bag and pulled out their EMF detector. Dean had built it for them, stating that if they got a ‘professional one’ it’d cost them more and stand out if they used it in public. John watched her switch it on and hold it out over the water. Nothing. After a moment, she shrugged.

“Not even a nibble.”

“You’ll have to work on your ‘fish story’ before we get back.” He informed her.

“Oh yeah, I forgot how much you fishermen love to embellish. Okay… how about this; the ghost somehow avoided detection, but I knew it was there anyways, and it put up a huge fight, and just when I was about to fill it full of rock salt it smashed into the boat and my shotgun fell overboard.”

John smirked. “It was okay. But if you try to pass that story off, you’ll have to return without your shotgun.” He picked up his fishing pole, baited it, and cast out the line.

Mary placed the EMF detector, still turned on just in case, into the open bag and opened up their cooler. She took out a couple of sodas and handed one to him. He gratefully accepted it. While she was busy getting out their sandwiches that they’d packed for lunch, John leaned back and just relaxed for a moment. Sure, he was on a hunt, but he was also on vacation. 

When Bobby had contacted him about this, he’d almost turned it down. It wasn’t something he’d handled in the first timeline, according to the journal (although he sometimes wondered if he’d really recorded _everything_ in there), so he figured he’d pass it on to another hunter. But due to his recent promotion at work, he had four weeks of vacation time a year now and using one of them to spend some time lakeside with his family was kind of appealing. So after they’d all discussed it, he’d called the older hunter back and told the man that they’d do it.

“How long should we spend here?” Mary questioned.

“Well, we have two spots to check out, so I figure we’ll spend two hours in each place. Adding in travel time, we’ll still be back before dinner.”

“You’re just happy that we’re not spending all day in the library like we did yesterday.”

“ _That_ , my dear, is no way to spend a vacation.”

“And fishing out in this hot sun is?”

“Well, we _could_ find other things to occupy ourselves with.” He put on his best ‘look’.

Mary carefully moved from her bench back to his and straddled his lap. She took the fishing rod from his hand, placed it on the floor of the boat, put her hands on his hips, and looked him right in the eyes. “Are you really suggesting that we get involved in certain activities, in a boat, in the middle of a possibly haunted or monster infested lake, during a hunt?”

John kissed her on the lips. “It does sound kind of like the set-up for a gruesome death in a really bad horror movie, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.” She returned his kiss passionately, then slowly pulled away. Mary climbed off his lap, patted his cheek, and went back to her seat.

“You are such a tease.”

“I really am.” She threw a wink at him.

He shook his head and chuckled. After a moment, he grew serious. “I hope the boys are doing alright.”

“I’m sure they are.” She assured him. “They’re with Cas.”

“Yeah, well, Dean was with Cas when he apparently made a deal with a demon.” And just what the hell had his son been thinking?! Hadn’t they discussed way back when Dean had just ‘arrived’ back in his younger self that there would be no demon deals? Well, technically, they’d agreed that selling souls was a bad idea. And now Dean was claiming that his deal was a ‘no soul’ transaction. Still…

“I’m upset with him about that too, but he’s already told us that he knows all about this Crowley and that everything will work out.”

“Right.” John put on his most skeptical tone. “It was still a terrible idea.”

“Maybe. But if we can get an idea of what the demons are planning, we’ll know how to prepare a bit better. We need to trust Dean, John.”

“Dean, I trust. Crowley, I don’t.”

“And Dean doesn’t trust him either. So he’ll be on guard and won’t let anything happen. And we’ll have his back. Besides, at least he told us this time, unlike with Gabriel.”

John nodded reluctantly. “But at least Gabriel’s not a demon.”

“No, he’s an angel. An _archangel_. Who apparently poses as a demi-god or something. That’s so much better. And yet, it turned out to be the right call in the end.”

John sighed. “You’re right.”

“Always am.” Mary said smugly.

“I still hope the boys are keeping out of trouble this time.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam laughed hysterically as his big brother disappeared under the surface of the water only to bump the bottom of the boat and make it rock ever so slightly. Then the older boy popped back up and splashed water all over him. 

“Hey!” Sam cried out. “Sharks don’t splash!”

Dean grabbed a hold of the side of the boat and started to rock it back and forth. “But they do eat little boys! As soon as I knock you out, I’ll make a meal of you.”

“No way!” Sam exclaimed. “You’ll _never_ eat me!”

Dean pulled himself half out of the water, leaning all his weight on the side, then let go, making the boat tip the other way quickly. Sam fell back and out the other side of the rowboat. His lifejacket kept him from going under and he laughed as Dean swam towards him, humming the theme for ‘Jaws’. 

“Ahhhh!” Sam screamed. “Shark! Help!” He tried to swim away. The boy knew that he really had no hope of outracing his brother, but it was fun to try.

Especially after they’d spent all yesterday inside the town’s library doing research. Not that he’d minded too much. Sam found reading and looking up stuff to be interesting, but it had been difficult because they hadn’t really known what they were trying to find. Still, he’d done his best. And he was great at that kind of stuff. Heck, with Dean’s help, he was actually going to be skipping a grade and going into the middle school in the fall! His older brother had sat and studied with him for hours until he’d passed all the tests he’d needed to, and Sam had joined the Lawrence Middle School’s debate team the previous year as a requirement for jumping a grade (well, technically he’d had to participate in any scholastic club of his choice in that school and Dean had suggested that one, claiming that Sam could ‘argue with the best of them’. Sam had tried to argue that point and only ended up proving his brother correct). Dean had been so proud of him when he’d shown his big brother the letter that confirmed that he was going into the sixth grade a year early. Still, with all their researching skills combined, they’d come up empty handed the day before. 

But maybe they’d be lucky today and get a lead. And even if they didn’t he was having a great time with Dean and Cas. Dean had been goofing off with him between scanning for ghosts and searching for anything strange. And Cas, well he’d been Cas; falling for Dean’s jokes, using his powers to make their cooler float back up out of the water when it had fallen off the boat (even if the second time Sam had done it on purpose at Dean’s urging), and becoming an unmovable object when the boys had tried to dump him into the lake. Having an angel as a family member while growing up had been pretty cool. Even long before he’d discovered the truth about Cas, Sam had just accepted that the guy could do all sorts of cool stuff. The big rule had always been to never talk about what Cas could do outside of their family. But the angel had always been like a second brother to Sam (although they were supposed to tell everyone that he was their uncle) and that was why he still had a hard time believing that most angels were so awful. Still, no matter what any of the other angels did, even if they were trying to bring about the apocalypse, Cas would always be different from them. He would always be family.

Sam was disrupted from his thoughts by Dean practically jumping on his back. 

“Got ya!”

“Ahhhhh!”

They both laughed and Dean slid off to briefly disappear underwater once again. Sam started back towards the rowboat, hoping to get onboard before Dean resurfaced. He waved at Cas but didn’t bother to ask the angel to transport him back. Cas had made it clear that he was staying out of this. 

Just when Sam was almost within arm’s reach, he felt something brush up against his leg. For a second he thought it was Dean but it didn’t feel like human skin. It was slightly slimy and just… weird. And then there was the disturbing fact that Dean popped up a few meters to Sam’s right, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that whatever was underwater was not the older Winchester.

“Dean! There’s something under the water! It brushed against my leg.”

Give his older brother credit, there were no questions or skepticism. No ‘are you sure’ or ‘you were imagining things’ or ‘it was probably a fish’. Dean just nodded once and ordered “Get back on the boat, Sammy.”

Sam swam the last couple feet and Cas easily pulled him up. The boy could see Cas squinting out at the water, trying to see and sense anything below the surface. The angel made eye contact with Dean and shook his head. Sam looked back at his brother who was swimming towards them and breathed a sigh of relief.

But then he let out a cry as Dean suddenly seemed to be dragged down underwater just seconds before their small rowboat started to be violently shaken by something from below.


	150. Serpentem Maris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. I'm back. Both my son and I were very ill for a while and I'm finally recovering. So... here's another chapter.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty: Serpentem Maris

One minute he'd been swimming back to the rowboat and the next he was underwater. Dean was barely aware of the thing wrapped around his right ankle at first, but as he started to struggle and try to get back to the surface, it tightened around him and he felt what seemed like dozens of tiny pinpricks in his skin. The hunter resisted the urge to cry out, not wanting to swallow any liquid and thus lose what precious air he had. But the sharp pains and the almost bone-crushing pressure around his ankle was terrible. And it prevented him from swimming upwards and getting out of the water. Which meant that he was going to drown.

As Dean was dragged further down, the pressure began to bother his ears. He was certain that the lake wasn't deep enough for the difference to harm him, but it was still uncomfortable. The teen wasn't sure how far down he was, pretty far if the lighting (or lack thereof) had anything to say about it, but he knew that even if he somehow got away from whatever had grabbed him there was little chance of him getting back to the surface.

Still, he tried once again to kick at the thing that was pulling him towards the bottom of the lake. It responded by tightening even further around his ankle and Dean could swear that he felt his bone begin to crack. This time he couldn't help but cry out, his voice lost in the depth of the water, and the lake rushed in to fill his mouth. The boy tried not to swallow, but it couldn't be helped and he just knew that he wasn't going to make it as he gagged on the water.

But then, despite the frigid cold that had enveloped him, Dean felt himself wrapped up in someone's arms and then the familiar sensation of angel transport.

Dean coughed and sputtered as he appeared on the floor of the rowboat. Still, he couldn't seem to clear his lungs until Cas turned him over and patted him hard on the back. About half the lake spilled out onto the wooden planks. Dean shivered and let out a moan as his ears popped, his lungs burned, and his ankle throbbed. But he had no time to recover, because suddenly he felt the boat begin to shake.

"Dean!" Sam cried out and dropped down to grab onto him the moment that Cas placed him into a sitting position on the floor.

"You 'kay, S'mmy?" Dean choked out.

"Yeah, but I'm scared. I… I thought you were dead when you got dragged under and then the boat started to shake." The rowboat shook again as if to prove his point. "And Cas doesn't know what got you."

Dean looked down at his ankle and saw a black, eel-like creature about the size of his arm wrapped around him. "Uh, that?"

Sam jerked away and Cas went to reach for the thing. But right before his hand could touch it, the creature released its hold on Dean, hissed at the angel, and slithered across the boat almost too quickly to track. When it reached the side, it shot straight up and over. Dean heard a small splash.

"What the hell… was that?" Dean managed to gasp out between coughs.

"A baby sea serpent?" Sam suggested.

"Really?" Dean teased.

Sam shrugged. Then his eyes widened. "Dean, you're bleeding."

Dean looked down and saw blood leaking out of several small puncture marks in his ankle. Damn. Well, he had felt something break the skin earlier when the thing had tightened its grip on him. But worse than the bleeding was the swelling and discoloration of the ankle. Yep, that was gonna be a bitch to walk on.

"I'll be okay, Sammy."

"I believe the bone is most likely damaged, Dean." Cas informed him.

"Probably just a hairline fracture." The young hunter shot back. "Anyway, we have more pressing matters. Like the fact that there's obviously more of those things and they're attacking our boat!"

By that time, the small rowboat was being violently rocked from side to side, and if they hadn't been sitting on the bottom they would've been thrown into the water already.

"Cas, can you get us back to the cabin, please?" Sam asked.

"I'm afraid I cannot."

"What the hell?" Dean exclaimed, then coughed a bit. "Why not?"

"I can no longer transport myself anywhere. Those creatures are blocking my abilities."

"But you did it to save me." Dean protested.

"Yes. But now they are aware of me." Cas responded.

"Sounds like you know a bit about them."

"Now I do, yes. But I believe an explanation can wait until we are a bit safer."

Just then, the floor of the boat shuddered and gave out a loud splintering noise. Sam let out a startled cry and Dean grabbed onto him.

"Then let's get the engine going and get somewhere safe!"

He watched as Cas moved towards the back and started up the engine. Dark blackish-red blood splattered all over as the motor kicked on and the boat didn't budge. The creatures must've been wrapped around the blades and it wasn't angled in the water. Cas pushed back on the motor and the blades, now free of the chopped up monsters, submerged into the lake, propelling their vessel forward. Dean wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but he could still feel the boat being shaken by the creatures.

"We're never going to make it back to shore!" Sam exclaimed.

"I'll head for one of the larger islands." Cas informed them. "These creatures will not venture too far onto the land."

The floor of the boat creaked and groaned and then with a terrible snap, part of the wood gave way and water started to rush in. Sam went to jump up, but Dean held him in place.

"It won't help, Sammy. You'll just risk getting thrown off." He told the younger boy. "Cas, we need to get off this deathtrap now!"

"I see an island, Dean. We are almost there."

Dean held Sam tightly, watching as the water rose up and feeling the boat slow down as the vessel's weight increased. His bleeding ankle starting to turn the water around his foot pink, which was kind of fascinating. Like a bizarre watercolor. Except without many colors. The hunter shook his head. That was strange. His thoughts had started to wander.

One of the eel-creatures slithered into the rapidly-filling rowboat and Cas pulled out his angel blade and sliced it in half. But Dean doubted that he'd be able to keep up if dozens swarmed them. Or fight very well if they all sank into the depths of the lake.

Then the rowboat hit dry land. Dean tried to stand up, but his ankle protested and he let out a groan of agony and crumpled back to the floor. Cas scooped him up and the next thing he knew he was being laid down on the ground. Sam dropped to his knees by his side.

"Dean, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Where's Cas?"

"He went to drag the boat further away from the water and grab our stuff. He told me to stay with you. You blacked out or something."

Huh. That was weird. He hadn't thought the injury was that bad. Dean struggled to sit up, his head feeling kind of weird and heavy. Maybe he'd drank in too much water. But then he got a look at his ankle and knew that he was in trouble. The swelling was still pretty bad and the discoloration was not pretty, but that was no longer the most grotesque part of the wound. The puncture marks were red and inflamed and leaking a yellow mucusy substance. Oh, and there were red angry lines running away from them under his skin and a couple inches up his leg. It was a hell of an infection for just a few minutes. Those creatures must've had some sort of poison or something. Just freakin' peachy. Dean hoped that he wasn't going to lose his leg.

"Dean… what's wrong with your leg?"

"Don't know."

"The creature that attacked your brother infected him with its venom." Cas announced as he walked back over. The angel dropped their bags and cooler down a few feet away.

"Is he gonna die?" Sam sounded close to tears.

"I won't let that happen." Cas insisted.

Okay, so that meant that the venom was possibly deadly. Awesome. Dean let himself drop back to lie flat on the ground. He saw Cas going through their stuff and pulling out their first aid kit. The hunter watched curiously as his friend took out the bee sting extractor pump. He gave a chuckle.

"Really, Cas? You think that'll help?"

"Not completely. But I can use it to remove a portion of the creature's venom that has not already entered too far into your bloodstream, which may reduce the severity of your reaction."

Dean felt the hard plastic device press against his flesh and the pressure hurt like all hell. Then there was an uncomfortable suctioning sensation. Then the same all around the damaged ankle. Next he felt Cas make a few incisions further up his leg to repeat the procedure there. The hunter hissed and moaned in pain and his little brother squeezed his hand comfortingly.

Once the angel had cleaned and dressed the wounds, Dean looked up at him and swallowed. "So, what's the prognosis, doc."

"I am no doctor, but you will live. I could not remove all the venom, so it is likely that you will continue to become ill and suffer side effects from this and for that I apologize. But I extracted enough that the amount left in your system should no longer be lethal."

"Oh… well, that's good."

"But for now we should get you dry before you add pneumonia to your troubles."

Dean realized for the first time that he was still wearing his swimwear and was shivering. Go figure. But then Cas was drying his upper body off with a towel and pulling on a long-sleeved shirt. Dean went to push the angel away afterwards so that he could change into his jeans.

"I could assist you." Cas offered.

"Like hell." Dean shot back. "You're not touching my trunks."

Sam giggled. "Why not? He already sleeps with you, Dean."

Dean shot him a look. "Shut up, Sammy. You're no help. And where did you learn this kind of humor?"

"From you."

"Great. Mom and Dad are gonna kill me."

After making sure the others had turned around, Dean struggled out of his swim trunks and into a clean pain of underwear, but he was so exhausted by then and his leg was throbbing so bad that he had to accept Cas' help with his jeans. The angel had to cut off a portion of the bottom of the pant leg so that they wouldn't be tight around the injury. Dean was barley clinging to consciousness by that point and could feel the sweat pouring down his face even though he was still shivering. Fever. Awesome.

Sammy, now clothed in warmer stuff as well, sat down next to him and looked up at Cas. "So… what were those things?"

"A long time ago, they used to be called serpentem maris."

"Serpent of the sea." Sam translated. Dean smiled at him proudly.

"Correct. They grew much larger than they appear now and were known to sink vessels and eat the crew. They were mindless creatures that you would probably consider easy to kill."

"I take it something changed." Dean commented. "'Cause you couldn't sense 'em."

"And you said that they blocked your powers." Sam added.

"Yes." Cas replied. "Something changed. Quite drastically. You see, a large vessel was taken over by demons and then that very same ship was attacked by the serpentem maris."

"But… couldn't demons just… kill 'em?" Dean asked. His voice was kinda slurred and his head was really killing him.

"Yes, and several did. But at the time the serpents grew to many meters in height and the vessel was sinking and many of the demons had been bitten before they even had realized that they were under attack. The ones that were not injured tore some of the creatures apart with their powers or simply escaped their hosts. But several of the serpentem maris got away after drinking the demon blood. For some reason, it not only affected the ones that drank the blood, but it mutated their very species down the line. All those spawned from those creatures no longer grow as large, perhaps to remain hidden, but they can cancel out both the powers of Heaven and Hell if they are aware of them, and they can only be killed by the very things that can kill demons."

"So… demonic eels?" Dean questioned.

"They are not technically demonic. Or eels."

"I stand by my label."

"But why didn't you mention them before?" Sam wanted to know.

"They were last known to be in the ocean. Not in a lake in Maine. But it seems that they have adapted."

"Perfect." Dean said. Well, at least he thought that he got that comment out, but the world was suddenly spinning kind of fast and everything got dark and he might have thrown up before finally giving in to unconsciousness.


	151. What’s Wrong

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-One: What’s Wrong 

Mary helped her husband pull their boat back onto shore, remove all their gear, and flip it over. Then they tied the rope securely before picking up their stuff to head back to their cabin. It was a very short walk down the path that ran parallel to the lake. 

They were staying in a campground that rented cabins in one secluded area and had a lager open area for campers and tents on the other side of the park. There were seven cabins in all, spaced far apart. Four were small two bedroom cabins and three were larger ones with a second story. The Winchesters were staying in cabin number three, which was one of the smaller ones. One room had a queen bed, the other two twins, and they’d been informed that there was a roll-out cot in the kitchen/dining/living area for Cas. Of course he wouldn’t be using it since he spent his nights sitting next to Dean, but it wasn’t like they’d be telling the campground owners _that_. Each cabin also had a small bathroom and a screened-in porch. It was small, but cozy and well-maintained. 

Mary went on ahead to get dinner started while John went up to the office to sign their rented rowboat back in. She went up the three steps, through the screen door and onto the porch and then walked over to the main door. It was still locked, indicating that she’d gotten back before the boys, so she pulled out her key and let herself in. Mary dropped the bag of hunting supplies by the door, careful to not disturb the salt lines, and placed the cooler on the table. She’d made her husband carry his own fishing gear. Then she went over to the fridge and opened it up. They’d done burgers the previous night, so she figured that she’d make some fish tonight. Bought from the store of course. Because John was going to have to make up some impressive stories to cover for his lack of catches for the day. 

Taking the salmon out, she also grabbed the bottle of teriyaki sauce and the zucchini and yellow squash. Mary carried it all over to the counter to start preparations. Once the fish was cut and soaked in the sauce, she’d give it to John to take out to the grill. 

She had everything cut, the vegetables in the pan, and was getting the box of rice out of the small pantry when John came in. 

“We beat the others back?”

“Yep.”

“So… to the bedroom?”

Mary laughed. “Sure… if you want to eat peanut butter sandwiches for dinner.”

“It’s a good tradeoff.”

“Take the fish outside and grill it.” She instructed.

“Why bother giving me a choice if you never listen?”

She ignored him and continued cooking. In no time at all the squash had been sautéed and the rice was done. Mary checked the time. The boys were late. The area of the lake that they’d been investigating was closer to the campground than Mary and John’s so they should’ve gotten back first. It was possible that Dean and Sam had lost track of time if they had gotten to fooling around… but Cas should’ve kept an eye on things. Right. Because it wasn’t like the angel never took orders from Dean or anything. She sighed. They better not let dinner get cold.

John brought the fish in and they set the table out on the porch. Then they started the fun game of waiting. At first it _was_ kind of fun. They teased each other and kissed and she smacked his hand when he tried to snitch a snack before dinner. But as time passed, they both grew worried. There was no reason for the others to be this late. Not a good one anyway. 

The two nervous parents wandered out to the edge of the lake and gazed upon it, hoping to catch a glimpse of a rowboat coming in to shore. Nothing. After a while, Mary finally spoke.

“We need to go find them.”

“We can’t take a boat out this late. They don’t allow guests to rent after…”

“John, something went wrong and I am _not_ waiting until after eight o’clock tomorrow morning to go out and search for our children.”

“And I’m not telling you that we should.”

“But you said…”

“I _said_ that we are not allowed to take a boat out at this time. And the office is still opened and that old lady sits out watching the lake until closing. So, we wait another couple hours until they close up shop and return to their lodge and then we drag a boat into the lake, row until we get far enough away from shore and then turn on the motor and go find our kids and Cas.”

“Oh.” Mary felt kind of bad for assuming that her husband would be okay with leaving their boys out alone overnight. “Yeah, good plan.”

“I have them occasionally.”

She smiled. “Occasionally.” Mary hugged him. “I’m sorry for biting your head off. I just… I’m so worried.”

“Me too, Mary. Me too.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural...  
…

“I’m worried, Cas. Dean’s really sick. And doesn’t he get nightmares or something if you’re not helping him? I don’t want him to be scared.” Sam knew that he sounded like he was whining, but he really didn’t care at that point. His big brother was sweating and shivering and moaning in his sleep and his ankle looked really bad. The boy knew that Cas had said that Dean would make it, but he was beginning to have his doubts.

“Your brother is ill from the poison in his system, but he’ll survive this. He is strong, Sam. And while I would wish nothing more than to be there for him if he’s suffering from nightmares, I cannot take my attention away from keeping watch. Dean would not forgive me if something were to happen to you.”

Sam nodded and stroked a hand through his older brother’s hair. Dean’s head was resting on Cas’ lap and the teenager was propped on his side, just in case he threw up yet again. Dean had almost choked on the stuff the first time that had happened.

Sam leaned in close to give his brother a kiss on his forehead. As he did so, he realized that the older child was muttering something under his breath. Sam didn’t catch most of the words, but he could tell that Dean was in distress and was pleading with someone or something to leave him alone. The young boy closed his eyes, kissed the spiky hair, and pulled back.

“Cas… you seem to know Dean really well, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can… Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is something wrong with Dean? I mean, not with his leg right now, but with how he usually is. Because everyone always says that he’s been through a lot and that’s why he acts so different but I think it’s more than that. Because I look at him sometimes and he seems so sad. And he’ll start to say things sometimes and then stop himself. And I just… if something’s wrong with him or something bad happened to him, I want to help him, Cas.”

The angel was quiet for a long time. So long that Sam was beginning to think that he’d never get an answer. “Your brother has been through more than you can possibly imagine and when the time is right, he himself will tell you. All that I can say is that he has seen and experienced things that have made him grow up far too soon and that is one of the reasons he is so protective of you.”

“One of the reasons?”

“The other is that he loves you more than anything in this world.”

Sam smiled through the tears that had come to his eyes. “I love him too, Cas. And I’m afraid that I’m gonna lose him.”

“I will do everything I can to protect him and the rest of this family.”

“I know. You always do.” Sam waited a moment before asking another question. “Why do you do it, Cas? I mean, why us? What made our family so important that you went against your brothers and sisters and came down here all those years ago to live with us and protect us from everything?”

“When you were six months old, a demon came to your house. Your mother and brother worked together to kill it and thus set all of this into motion. That is when I knew that you’d need protection.”

Sam shook his head. “But hunters have fought demons for years and no angel has ever just broken ranks to protect them. Why us? Why Dean? ‘Cause I know it’s him that’s at the center of all this. I’m not stupid. I know everyone’s keeping a part of the story from me. And you’re a part of that story too.”

“I am. But it is more Dean’s story than my own.”

Sam sighed. “So I’ll have to wait until Dean’s ready to tell it. Which will be when I’m in the hospital waiting to see my grandkids being born.”

Cas actually chuckled. “That is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Maybe a bit.” Sam conceded. “But how do I know how to help Dean if I don’t know what’s wrong with him?”

“By just being you. By being there for him.”

“I guess.”

“S’mmy? What… I… where are we?”

Sam looked down at Dean and saw that his brother’s eyes were half opened and clouded with pain and fever. His gaze was unfocused and didn’t settle on anything for more than a few seconds. The older boy shivered violently and tried to reach up to Sam but missed and his hand fell weakly back to the ground.

“It’s okay, Dean. We’re still on this island, but we’ll be safe from those creatures until we can think of a plan or we get rescued.”

“S’mmy? Can’t see you well. Evr’ythin’ kind dark. Where’s Dad? On hunt?”

“Yeah, Dean.” Sam replied, a bit unsure of why Dean was asking. “He’s on the same hunt we are. He and Mom took a different boat though. But if we don’t get back soon, they’ll come looking for us.”

“Mom?” Dean blinked rapidly and his head lolled bonelessly as he tried to lift it. “Wha… She’s dead.” Then his eyes widened briefly. “Is tha’ what Dad hunting? Did he find it?” Dean groaned in pain and closed his eyes. “Did it get me? Are you ‘kay, S’mmy?”

Sam had no clue what his brother was talking about. Why would he think their mom was dead? And what was the ‘it’ that he was referring to? “Dean, what are you…”

“Your brother is confused, Sam.” Cas informed him. “It’s the fever.”

Dean jolted and opened his eyes again. “Who… what…”

“It is alright, Dean.” Cas comforted him.

Suddenly Dean started to tremble worse than ever. “Cas? Castiel?” Sam had never heard his older brother refer to the angel by his full name before. “No… please… I… I can’t be back there… help!” Dean started struggling weakly. Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such terror on his brother’s face. “Help! Sam! No… God, no… stop, please… Ahhhhh!” Dean screamed.

“Cas, what’s wrong with him?”

“He’s hallucinating. But don’t worry, it won’t last long before he’s back asleep.”

“You mean unconscious.” Sam corrected, tears streaming down his face. He reached out and touched Dean’s face. 

Dean stopped his struggles and lied still for a moment, panting heavily. His eyes darted around frantically before coming to rest on Sam. He squinted, as if trying to see who was there. “S’mmy? Where are we?”

“Safe, Dean. We’re safe.”

“Oh… good. Hurts.”

“You’ll be okay soon.”

“’Kay. You ‘kay, S’mmy?”

“Yeah, Dean. I’m okay.”

“I gotta keep ya safe.”

“You do, Dean.”

“Couldn’t. Not when… I… down there. Was just there. Hurt.”

“When you were underwater?” Sam asked. “That wasn’t your fault, Dean. You got pulled under. Besides, you made sure I got to the boat first and…”

“Hell.” Dean mumbled. “Was in Hell.” Then his eyes rolled back and he was out again.

Sam looked up at Cas. “What does that mean? What does he consider Hell? I don’t understand.”

“He’s feverish, Sam. Perhaps it means nothing.”

Sam seriously doubted that. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure that he wanted an explanation. Sam had never seen his brother like that before and anything that could put Dean in that state of terror was definitely not a good thing. 

After a few minutes, Sam opened up the cooler and took out a Hershey bar. He’d just unwrapped it and taken a bite when rain started falling from the sky.

“Great,” He muttered. “Now we’re stuck out here all night and we’ll be soaked and freezing. How’re we gonna stop Dean from getting more sick?”

“We have a much larger problem. If the rain starts to come down too hard, the serpentem maris may be able to venture up and onto the land.”

Yeah… that _was_ a really big problem. As Dean would say, they were screwed.


	152. Desperate

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Two: Desperate 

It was dark out and not even the high powered flashlights shining out into the water were doing much to light their way as the boat sped across the lake. John wondered if there was a chance that they might have passed right by the boys’ rowboat without even realizing it. But that wasn’t likely. His light might be kept straight ahead, but Mary was sweeping hers around and since there wasn’t anything else out here John was certain that they’d find their missing family members. If they were still afloat. _No_. He couldn’t think that way. They had to be okay. After all, his sons had an angel with them. Cas would keep them safe. But if they were okay, then why hadn’t they come back yet?

He told his brain to shut the hell up and just concentrated on the task at hand. A gust of wind whipped the rain that was now pouring down from the sky into his face and the hunter shivered despite his warm clothes and rain coat. What a crappy night to be out on the lake. But at least they were prepared. Dean and Sam had only the clothes on their backs, their swim clothes, and towels. And Cas had his usual outfit, complete with trench coat. John remember Dean trying to convince the angel to wear something different to go out in the boat and Cas awkwardly informing the teen that he hadn’t packed anything ‘more appropriate’. Jokes about skinny dipping had come next before Mary had shushed the boy.

“I still don’t see them.” Mary called out.

“Me neither.”

She sighed. “John, we’ve searched almost the entire area that they were in. This is around the second spot that that were supposed to check out. They wouldn’t have gone any further. Had they made it this far, they would’ve headed back afterwards.”

“And we would’ve seen them by now. I know. But maybe something happened and they were forced to head towards land. Or one of the islands.”

“There are around thirty islands in their area! We can’t check them all and check the entire shoreline around here as well. We need to narrow this down.”

He groaned in frustration. “I don’t know how! We have no clues, Mary! Something had to have happened or they’d be back but we don’t know what or when.”

But they had come prepared. Along with the usual hunting equipment, John had pulled their ‘emergency bag’ from the car. It held the Colt, the knife, holy water, and holy oil. Everything that they’d need if they ran into agents of either side of the apocalypse. Not that that was likely out here in the middle of the lake, but if something out here had somehow stopped Cas from getting the boys back safely, they might need the Colt. But to be able to use it, they had to find out where the problem was first. Where their three missing family members were.

“Maybe we should start at this site and begin checking islands in this area. We know that victim number four was killed here, so the thing, whatever it is, was here at some point and the boys were supposed to be too. So maybe something happened around here.”

“Good a theory as any.” John agreed. He should’ve come up with something like that. He was just so damned frustrated and worried that he wasn’t thinking straight. Not good.

They drove by three smaller islands and saw no trace that anyone had been there recently. No boats, people, footprints; nothing. John was steering them to the next when he saw something moving in the water. 

“Mary! Mary, are you seeing those?”

She peered down into the water. “Eels? But there aren’t any… They’re heading for that island, John!”

John shined his light and traced the dark shapes as they wiggled their way up onto dry land. “I think we found what we’ve been hunting. And there’s only one reason they’d be going on land.”

“The boys!”

“I’ll head over…”

He was cut off as something slammed into their boat. The small vessel shook a bit and John looked down to see several of the strange eel-creatures swimming their way. More rammed their rowboat and it shook. John kept them on course as Mary pulled out her weapon. One of the eel-things slithered into their boat and John heard Mary’s gun go off. 

“John! The thing isn’t stopping! The bullet didn’t kill it. It’s healing.”

“Use the Colt.” He instructed.

He saw her scramble to open the bag and grab for the weapon that would kill practically anything. A moment later another shot rang out and this time when John glanced over, the monster was lying dead at the bottom of the boat.

John tried to concentrate on steering but he was distracted by the fact that several of the creatures were now invading their boat and heading for his wife. He shut the motor off and dove for the emergency bag. He wasn’t sure if the knife would work as well as the Colt but he had to try something. The hunter grabbed the weapon and turned to see one of the things almost on top of him. As it got close, it spread these strange looking tiny fins on its sides and John stabbed it in its back. The creature emitted a weird shriek and died. As he pulled the blade out, it rolled on its back and he saw some strange, small circular suction-like things running along its underside with little stingers protruding from them. John decided it would probably be best to avoid those. 

But he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the next creature’s fins as it flung itself at him. And, as it turned out, those tiny little fins were razor sharp. John let out a shout as his arm was cut but he didn’t let that stop him from slicing the bastard open. 

He and Mary took out a few more before the remaining creatures turned and jumped ship. Then John got to his feet and returned to the bench by the motor. He quickly started it up. They needed to get to the island and find the rest of their family. 

“How many shots do you have left?” He called out. They didn’t keep all of their Colt ammo with them. Most was back at home.

“Two.”

“Damn.”

John was thinking about how they’d manage to get everyone back to the cabin in one piece (because he had to believe that his sons and Cas were all okay) when suddenly the water behind them started to ripple as a dark shadow appeared underneath. The hunter wondered if a whole bunch of those creatures were coming up at once when suddenly a huge, gigantic version of the eel-things broke the surface and rose up into the air.

And if eels could look pissed, this one would definitely be looking pissed.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Pain. Oh God, he was in so much pain. And it was so damned cold, yet he was sweating. And the pain… but the pain was all in his leg. His leg… what had happened to his leg…

Dean tried to think past the fever but he really couldn’t figure out what had happened. He struggled to piece together snippets of conversations he remembered from earlier. He remembered some mention of demons… Had he been injured by demons? No it was an infection. Was he infected by some demon virus? Like Croatoan? No… oh God, no.

Dean weakly raised his head and tried to see his leg. With all his strength, the hunter propped himself up on his elbows and saw that there was white gauze taped around his ankle. He groaned and reached down to rip it off. The boy tumbled down on his side, but didn’t let that stop him. He curled up and tore at the bandage until it came off, then threw it to the ground next to him. He could dimly hear voices not far away but ignored them. He had to check his wound. Dean gasped involuntarily as he saw the red swollen flesh and the dark lines running away from the injury and up his leg. What had happened? Whatever had happened, it was bad. And Dean _was_ infected. But with what? Not Croatoan… but maybe something worse. Maybe Dean would become a zombie… or a demon. No, demons were made in Hell. But then why was he remembering his own face with black eyes taunting him and telling him that he was going to die and that that was what he was going to become. That memory was so clear… Maybe that was what was happening to him? No! Dean couldn’t let that happen.

Dean shivered with both fear and cold as he dragged himself the few feet over to where he saw the weapons bag. It was opened and he reached in and found a large, serrated knife. The hunter took it out with shaky hands. Maybe if he cut the infected limb off, he could stop the infection from spreading…

The teen held the blade to just above where the black lines stopped and pressed down. Then he jerked his head up as he heard soft growling. Dean was surrounded by hellhounds. They circled him, snarling at him, drool dripping off their hideous snouts. 

“No… y’ cn’t h’ve me.” Dean mumbled.

Then all the hounds’ eyes flashed pure white and all but one of them melted away into nothing. The last one shifted into a human with a crack and pop of bones shifting. Dean paled as he recognized the person as Alastair. He was wearing the same body as he had when Dean had been forced to torture him by the angels. Dean pulled the blade away from his wound and held it up to protect himself from the monster that approached him. The blade shook as his hand trembled violently. 

“Well, Dean. It looks like you’ll be coming to join me again soon.”

“No… no, nev’r ‘gain.”

Alastair laughed. “Oh Dean, when have you ever had a choice. You are nothing but a plaything for Hell.”

“No… w’n’t let…” He got no further as the entire world seemed to spin and darken. When everything settled (but still stayed much too dark), Dean looked around but found himself alone. 

But the demons were waiting for him, and he was still infected. He couldn’t be distracted from what he had to do. Dean wiped the sweat from his face and turned the blade back down to his painful leg. The young hunter pressed the serrated edge of the blade into his flesh and started to cut. He bit back a cry of pain, but couldn’t stop the nausea that welled up inside of him. Dean dropped the knife, and puked all over the ground. Nothing came up but very little water and some bile. After a moment of dry heaving and shivering, Dean shakily picked up the blade and tried again. But his hand wasn’t steady at all and he couldn’t see very well so he was having difficulty lining up the knife with his previous cut. He felt the blood running down his leg, and wondered if maybe that would be enough to cleanse the demon virus from his system. No, the infected limb had to go. It had to be done. He had to…

“Dean? Dean what are you… Cas! Cas, come quick! Dean’s cut himself!” Sam. That was Sam’s voice. “Dean, put the knife down. Please, Dean.”

“S’mmy? Stay ‘way. S’ck.”

“Yes, Dean. You _are_ sick. We’re taking care of you. But you gotta put the knife down and lie back, okay?”

“Leg… bad.”

“It’ll get better, Dean. But not if you cut it. Cas got most of the venom out, remember? The rest will run its course. You’re gonna be sick for a bit, but cutting your leg won’t help and you’ll run the risk of more infections.” Dean tried to concentrate on Sam’s words, but his head was pounding and his heart was beating so damned fast. And he was afraid that Alastair would be back before Sam got away.

“S’mmy…”

“And you almost rolled out of the salt circle, Dean.” 

Dean blinked and looked down. Sure enough, there was salt around him. Maybe that’s why Alastair hadn’t gotten closer… But he heard rain. Wouldn’t rain wash away salt? Dean tried to look around, but his vision sucked.

“Rain…”

“We’re further into the trees here. It’s a bit dryer so the salt will stay in place longer and Cas says the creatures may not come this far in. But he doesn’t know for sure. He’s not even one hundred percent sure that the salt will hold them off. That’s why I’ve been checking on you every couple of minutes. Good thing too or you’d have cut your whole leg off.”

“Has t’ go.” Dean insisted.

“No, Dean. Your leg will be fine. I know it looks bad, but Cas thinks it will get better with time.”

“No… d’n’t w’nna b’come it. I’m inf’ct’d.” 

“I don’t understand, Dean. But please, just put the knife down and let me take care of you.”

“No. C’n’t.”

Dean tried to bring the blade back to his leg, but then he heard someone behind him just before hands gently but firmly wrapped around him and took the knife from his weak hand.

“No!” Dean cried out.

“It is for the best, Dean.” A voice, a familiar voice, informed him.

Dean curled in on himself as pain, fear, cold, and despair overtook him. He started to shake his head in denial as he imagined what might happen to him if he couldn’t be rid of whatever was infecting him.

“Dean, it’s okay. Please, you’ll be okay.” Sammy hugged him tightly.

“No…”

“Yes. Please trust me. You take care of me all the time and keep me safe. Please trust me and Cas to keep you safe this time, okay?”

Dean looked up and through the darkness saw his little brother looking at him with huge pleading eyes. Trust Sammy? Yeah, he could do that. Dean nodded. “’Kay.”

“Okay, Dean. Okay. I’ll take care of you. Cas is gonna continue to keep those things away from us but I’m not gonna leave your side again until this is over. I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”


	153. Help Has Arrived

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Three: Help Has Arrived 

Mary had emptied the last two Colt bullets she had into the large eel-creature and it had done nothing. The first had hit it in the underside and the second had been a headshot. But either the thing’s skull was too thick or it had gone through but hit nothing vital. Which was bad news since she really didn’t want to have to get close enough to that creature to be able to use the knife on it. Of course if they could find Castiel, maybe he could go back to their house and get more bullets for the Colt…

Suddenly their boat was tossed forward as the large creature dove into the water right behind them, missing their small vessel by mere inches. Had they been going just a bit slower, they’d have been sunk and most likely killed by the smaller creatures’ mother. And yeah, Mary was quite certain that that was what the larger thing was. She knew a mother’s protective instinct when she saw it. She and John had been killing the children, and their mom had responded accordingly. Unfortunately for the creatures, Mary was also a mom, and they had threatened _her_ children first. And she was a hell of a lot more vicious than those slimy beasts. Now, if only she had a damned weapon.

John cut the engine as soon as their boat hit dry land. They grabbed their gear and jumped out. Mary saw another rowboat that had been dragged further onto the island and she let out a sigh of relief. The boys were here. They’d made it to this island in one piece. 

The two hunters ran away from the water, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the mother-eel-creature as possible. There was what appeared to be a dense woods up ahead and Mary figured that that would be the safest place. She hissed as her ankle was cut by the fins of one of the eel-things. She shot it with her gun. It wouldn’t kill the monster, but maybe it would slow it down. But then a loud scraping sound alerted her to the fact that mommy-monster was on the island and slithering its way through the mud and rocks towards them.

“John! Mary! This way!” 

She turned to see Castiel waving at them. He was standing way up on an overlook in the woods. Then the angel seemed to catch a glimpse of the large eel-creature and his eyes widened. Mary grabbed her husband’s hand and took off in that direction. Once inside the cover of the trees, there were fewer creatures and many of them were already dead; sliced clean in half. They scrambled up a bit of an incline and finally met up with Castiel. Mary was so relieved to see him standing there in one piece that she threw her arms around him and held the angel tightly.

“Castiel! We were so worried. Are the boys okay? Where are they?”

“They are safe.”

A huge crash came from behind the Winchesters. John turned but there was nothing to see.

“Not sure any of us are safe.” He commented.

“What was that thing?” Castiel asked. “I was under the impression that all of the serpentem maris were much smaller.”

Mary figured that the eels were the ‘serpentem maris’. “Their mother.”

She saw a light bulb go off in Castiel’s head. “Of course. That is why its spawn are not as large. They are still juvenile. It must take centuries for them to reach maturity.”

“So… is there a father in the lake that we have to worry about too?” John wanted to know.

Castiel shook his head. “No. The serpentem maris reproduce asexually.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Mary smacked John in the back of the head. “Well, it’s great to have all this information, but how does it help us?”

“We now know that we only have to destroy the mother.” Castiel stated mater-of-factly.

“What? Why?”

“I had been wondering why the body count was so low with so many creatures, but now it makes sense. The young serpentem maris are pulling the victims down to the bottom of the lake to their mother. She is the one who needs to feed on the humans’ spinal and brain fluids to survive. If there was a complete autopsy of the bodies done, I’m sure this would’ve been discovered. But the young creatures are most likely still feeding on their mother’s milk. Yes, these creatures do produce a milk-like substance to feed their young. I was just unaware that they remained as babies this long.”

Mary nodded. “So with the mother dead, the young will die out as well. And the killings will stop.”

“Yes.”

“But killing the mother might be a problem. The Colt is out of bullets. Unless of course you can teleport back home and get more?”

“These creatures are blocking my powers.”

“How?”

“Perhaps that is a story best saved for another time. For now, I will just say that I believe I can kill it with my angel blade.”

“We can help distract it.” John offered “But I want to check on the boys first.”

Castiel nodded his head once. “They are this way. Sam is looking after Dean.”

Mary stopped dead. “ _Sam_ is looking after _Dean_?” There was something very wrong with that sentence. It was Dean’s life work (two lives work actually) to look after his baby brother. It was _never_ the other way around unless Dean was in critical condition.

“What happened to Dean?” John must’ve come to exactly the same conclusion.

“He was pulled underwater by one of the juvenile serpentem maris. It infected him with its venom and he’s very ill. He has a high fever and chills. His ankle is probably also fractured. When I left them last, Dean was once again unconscious but when he is awake he is sometimes hallucinating.”

“Will he be alright?” Mary was horrified.

“I extracted as much of the venom as I could or it would’ve been lethal. Your son will live and his leg should heal, but there is no telling how long he will remain sick.”

“Take us to him now.” John ordered.

Castiel looked confused for a moment. “That is where we are headed.”

Mary shook her head but any humor disappeared when she saw her sons up ahead. Sam was sitting on the ground holding Dean’s hand. Her youngest looked okay, just wet and scared. But Dean looked awful. He was wet, pale, and shaking violently. His right leg was heavily bandaged from his ankle up to under his knee, and some blood was leaking through near the top. As Mary drew closer, she could tell that his barely open eyes were dilated far too much, yet the way he was squinting and jerking his head at the sound of her approach had her thinking that he wasn’t seeing very well. 

“Mom!” Sam exclaimed. “You found us! Is Dad here too? Dad!” The boy obviously caught sight of John coming up behind her. But he didn’t budge from his brother’s side.

“M’mm?” Dean mumbled. “S’mmy… sh’s dead.”

“No, Dean. She’s fine. She’s right here. Mom and Dad are both here. They found us. We’re gonna be okay.” Sammy looked up at her. “He’s really sick and not making much sense. We need to get him back and get him meds.”

“We will, sweetie.” Mary kissed the little guy’s head. “But first we have to get rid of the creature.” She knelt down next to Dean. “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?” She carded a hand through his hair. It was soaked and she had a feeling that most of that was sweat and not the little bit of rain water that was trickling down through the trees. 

“M’m?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re going to be okay.”

“M’m?”

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Your dad and I are going to help Cas kill the large creature that’s the mother to all the smaller ones that you’ve been fighting. Then we’ll try and fight our way out. The younger ones shouldn’t go after anyone without a large one to bring their prey to.”

“So that’s why they tried to drag Dean so far under.” Sam pieced together.

“Makes sense.” John commented from where he was crouched down on Dean’s other side. “We’ll be back soon, buddy, okay.”

“’Kay, D’d. ’ll look aft’r S’mmy.” Dean muttered.

“Just rest, son.”

“And I’ll take care of Dean.” Sam promised.

“I know you will.” John ruffled his hair and then gave him a quick hug and kiss.

Mary reluctantly stood and with one last look at her boys, she prepared to leave them behind. The hunter in her knew that the best thing to do was to help get rid of the thing threatening them all but the mother part of her wanted nothing more than to hold her sons close and keep them safe. 

As the three adults started back the way they came, they heard a loud crashing noise.

“What was that?”

“Sounded like a tree breaking and falling.” John answered her.

Castiel looked thoughtful. “The serpentem maris need water to survive. The rain makes it possible for them to come on land and the trees prevent them from reaching us. The mother is probably knocking the trees over so that she and her children could get to us.”

“Well, we have to get to her first.” Mary insisted, determined to keep her children safe.

“We will.” John assured her.

They were close to the edge of the overlook where they had first seen Castiel standing when a cracking sound to their left alerted them. Mary turned and saw a tree falling a few meters away. The mother serpentem maris raised her head above the tree line and let out an ear piercing shrieking noise. Then the creature flung her body into another tree.

“Move!” John yelled. 

The large tree uprooted and came right at them. Mary and John jumped to the left of the crashing tree and fell to the ground. The female hunter let out a grunt and rolled away as branches and debris rained down on her. She scrambled to her feet and spun around. 

Castiel was running toward the creature but she didn’t see her husband right away. Then she looked down and saw John sprawled out on the ground with the top portion of the tree pinning his back to the rocky, muddy floor. 

“John!” She ran towards him and let out a relieved sigh when he turned his head to look up at her and tried to move. He seemed to be in one piece.

“Mary…” His voice was filled with pain. “Go help Cas.”

“I have to get you out of here.” She protested.

“You can’t lift it yourself. And I won’t have you risk yourself standing here trying.” He let out a groan before continuing. “Finish the job and then you and Cas can come back for me.”

Great. Now she had to leave yet another family member behind. “I’ll be quick, Love.”

“I know, Hon.” He sent her a smile as she blew him a kiss.

Then Mary turned and ran to join Castiel.

She saw the angel trying to get to his blade which was lying on the ground a few meters from where he was. The serpentem maris was bleeding from a cut across its body but still fighting viciously. The large creature lowered its head and rammed Castiel, throwing the angel back.

The hunter darted forward and snatched the angel blade up from the ground. Several small creatures gathered around her feet and Mary sliced them in half. Then she got close enough to lunge at the beast and drove the blade into the monster’s belly. It screeched and collapsed to the ground. When it started to rise, Mary quickly withdrew the weapon, raised it, and stabbed the creature in what she thought was its throat. It let out a gurgling roar and swung its head at her. 

The force of the blow flung her back and Mary found herself in a freefall as she was thrown over the edge of the overlook. Her body hit some trees on the way down and the last thing she saw before everything went dark was the serpentem maris rising up yet again, with the angel blade still lodged deep in its flesh.


	154. Finally Dead

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Four: Finally Dead 

The fight was not going anywhere near as well as Castiel would have liked. The mother serpentem maris turned out to be a very violent creature, writhing about and smacking its body into its prey to try and crush them. The angel figured that it was because on land it would be too difficult for the thing to maneuver itself to use its poisonous stingers. If he wasn’t an angel, Castiel would most likely have broken his spine by now. Even so, with his powers blocked by the creature, he was more vulnerable than usual and was feeling quite a bit of pain. But he was still in better condition than the Winchesters.

Speaking of which, he cast a glance over to the overlook where Mary had been thrown off just moments before. He really wished that he could go check on her condition, but there wasn’t time. And if Castiel were to go near her, it would put her in greater danger. The best he could do for her now was to draw the serpentem maris’ attention away from her and hope that she’d be alright for the moment. 

The large eel-like creature was still thrashing about, but it was moving a bit more sluggishly now. That was most likely due to the blood pouring from the gash he’d cut into it earlier, the stab wound Mary had left in its stomach, and the angel blade still protruding from its throat area. How it was even still alive was a mystery. 

Castiel ran at the thing and when it lowered its massive head to ram him once again, the angel yanked the blade from its flesh and dove out of the way. The serpentem maris dropped to the ground and rolled, attempting to smash him into the rocks beneath his body. But Castiel got to his hands and knees and scrambled out of the way just in time. 

Once he was clear of the thing’s massive body, the angel got to his feet and charged at the creature. The serpentem maris turned towards him and Castiel raised the angel blade. Stabbing and slashing the monster was proving to not be effective enough, so he decided to go for decapitation. But the creature was moving towards him too rapidly and Castiel doubted that he was going to get a chance.

Suddenly, a shot rang out and the serpentem maris’ right eye disappeared in a splatter of dark blood and goo. The thing let out a shriek and slammed its head into the ground in pain. It began to rub its face in the dirt, making loud screeching noises. Castiel took advantage of its moment of agony and rushed forward. He brought the weapon up high and then sliced it down with all his strength. 

The angel blade cut all the way through the creature’s slimy flesh and came out the other side. The thing’s high pitched wail stopped as the serpentem maris’ head separated from its body and thick fluids flowed from the gaping wound. It gave a few more twitches and then was still.

Castiel turned and saw John lying on the ground facing him, tree still pinning him down, gun held firmly in his hand. 

The angel approached him. “Thank you for the assistance.”

“Go check on Mary.” The hunter ordered.

Castiel hesitated, but then complied. John was holding a weapon and it was unlikely that the young serpentem maris would go after him without a mother to feed their victims to. Looking at the smaller creatures, the angel saw that they were gathering around their fallen parent. It seemed that John would be safe enough while Castiel went to go retrieve Mary. Without his powers, he didn’t have the strength to lift the tree off of the hunter and he knew the man didn’t want him to take the time to get him out when John’s wife might be injured.

The angel hurried over to the drop off and carefully lowered himself over the edge. It was steep, rocky, and extremely muddy and Castiel had a very hard time keeping his footing. Partway down, he lost his grip and skidded down the rest of the embankment, landing on the cold, wet ground at the bottom. The angel stood, letting the pouring rain begin to wash the mud from his trench coat as he looked around for Mary. At first he couldn’t spot her, but then he saw a woman’s body lying partway up the overlook, her head pointed downwards and resting against a tree trunk.

He was moving to her side at once. When Castiel reached her, he dropped to one knee and brushed her hair off her face to look at her head for a source of where the blood was coming from. There was a semi-deep cut just above her right temple and when the angel used his finger tips to gently probe it, Mary gasped and her eyes fluttered open.

“Mary, can you hear me?”

“Castiel?”

“Yes. You have a head wound and are more than likely concussed. It would be best if you moved as little as possible.”

“Oh… that… yeah, that explains the headache.”

“I believe it would. Does anything else hurt?”

She closed her eyes and didn’t respond for so long that Castiel began to think that she was once again unconscious. But then she swallowed and her eyes slowly opened. “My right shoulder hurts. I think it’s dislocated. Otherwise I think I got out lucky. Bumps and bruises.”

“Okay, give me a moment and I can set your shoulder.” Years ago, Dean and John had shown him some basic first aid methods. They came in handy when he was restricted from using his healing ability. Castiel placed his hands in the proper places and without giving any warning, popped the joint back in place. “Are you well?”

“Swell.” She responded through clenched teeth.

“I believe the best course of action would be to let you rest here and bring the rest of your family to…” He stopped talking as he felt a rush of power return to him. The serpentem maris were no longer blocking him. “I have a new plan.” He announced, before she could protest his previous one. 

The angel placed a hand on her and the two of them were suddenly next to where John was still lying underneath the felled tree. Castiel immediately stood and went over to the hunter. Without a moment’s hesitation, he lifted the top of the tree off of the man and placed it down next to him. John moved slowly, painfully, but determinedly over to his wife.

“Mary?”

“I’m okay, John.”

“Thank God.”

Castiel turned away as they kissed. He looked back into the woods where the boys were. “I’ll go retrieve your sons and bring them here. The less you both move, the better.”

“I’m alright.” John insisted.

“Take care of your wife. I’ll be right back.”

Castiel didn’t wait for a reply as he headed back to where he’d left Dean and Sam. He was almost back to them when he heard almost inhuman screams. The angel forgot all about walking or running to them and just transported himself to their sides. He found Dean thrashing about on the ground, eyes wide open but staring at nothing and Sam holding his brother’s hand with tears pouring down his face.

The younger boy looked up at him. “What’s wrong with him? Is he dying? He keeps talking about Hell.”

Castiel ignored the child, although he felt a bit bad about it, and focused on Dean. “Dean, can you hear me?”

The young hunter’s eyes flitted back and forth but never settled on anything at all. It reminded Cas of when he’d been trapped in his memories of Hell all those years ago. Of course, this time around he was much too injured to get up and hurt anyone. 

“C’s?” Dean moaned. “H’lp…” His whole body shook. 

Castiel gathered the boy in his arms and then reached out to touch Sam. A moment later they were back in the bedroom at their cabin.

“We’re back!” Sam exclaimed. “You did it!”

“Yes.” Castiel acknowledged. “With their mother dead, the juvenile creatures have given up the fight. I’m going back to retrieve your parents. Stay with Dean.”

The last thing the angel wanted to do was to leave his best friend behind, but he knew that Dean was better off in the bed, covered with warm blankets. Besides, it would only be a few seconds work to bring John and Mary back. 

The cabin was replaced by the island and he touched both of the older Winchesters’ shoulders and then they were all in the master bedroom, on the bed. Mary was lying down, with John kneeling besides her and Castiel was crouched next to them. He stood and stepped off the bed, leaving muddy footprints on their sheets. 

“Where are the boys?” Mary demanded.

“In their room.” 

Before he could say more, Dean screamed again. All three of them were out of the room in a flash. 

“No! Pl’s d’n’t… Oh, G’d! ‘elp” Dean’s speech was barely understandable, but Castiel knew that he was pleading for help, probably thinking he was stuck back in Hell and being tortured.

“Dean, it’s okay. We’re back. We’re safe now.” Sam was desperately trying to reassure the older boy.

“Cas, can you help him?” John wanted to know.

“I’ll try.” Castiel prayed that it was more like when Dean was dreaming and he could simply push the nightmares away. If it was like the hallucinations Dean suffered from after that incident all those years ago, the angel wouldn’t be able to do a damned thing.

He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Dean’s head. It was hot and sweaty. The angel concentrated, but nothing happened. Then Dean twisted away from him.

“No… no m’re.”

“I wish to help you Dean.”

“C’s… pl’s… why I’m ‘n H’ll?”

“You are not. You are just very ill Dean. You are hallucinating. I am here. And so is Sam.”

“S’mmy?”

“I’m right here, Dean.” Sam spoke up, clutching Dean’s hand even tighter.

“Get ‘way. H’llh’nds c’m’ng f’r me.”

“I don’t understand, Dean.”

“Gotta ‘tect ya.”

“No, Dean. We’re keeping you safe tonight.” Sam insisted. 

John came over holding two pill bottles, a glass of water, and a cold cloth. Castiel watched him fight with Dean to get him to take the antibiotics and fever reducers and then the father placed the cloth on the teen’s head. The young hunter was semi-aware of his surroundings one moment but completely out of it the next. 

Castiel turned to see Mary sitting on the other bed in the room, looking drained and a bit dazed. Her concussion was obviously getting to her.

“John, I think it would be best if you took care of Mary for the moment. I’ll keep an eye on your son. He’s not in any real danger and you’ve shown me how to clean wounds such as the kind he has on his leg. Also, I believe the less people he has around him when he begins to hallucinate, the better.”

Dean’s father appeared to be reluctant, but nodded and attended to his injured wife. 

Once they were back in their room, Castiel asked Sam to retrieve the first aid kit. The young boy did as he was asked; more than happy to help his brother. As the angel started to clean the wound and Dean begged and pleaded for the torture to stop, Castiel thought to himself that it was going to be a very long night.


	155. Not Yet

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five: Not Yet 

It was great to sleep in his own bed again, but Sam slipped out of his room first thing in the morning and crept into Dean’s. After that hellish night back at the cabin where Dean had screamed, pleaded, cried, and hallucinated all night long, the older boy’s fever had finally broke. Then the rest of the vacation had been spent with him on the mend and by the end he’d actually gotten up and limped around the campground with Sam. But they’d both avoided the water like the plague even though there’d been no sign that the little creatures were a threat any longer; without a mother, they might have even been dead by that time. And when their family had gotten home yesterday, it was the first time Sam could ever remember being glad that a vacation was over with.

Yet the things Dean had said that night still plagued Sam’s mind. He’d really wanted to ask his big brother about it all, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it while Dean was still so sick (and even after the fever had broke, the older boy was still a bit headachy and weak, not to mention the mess that was his right leg). But all last night Sam had been thinking about it and he thought that just maybe it was time.

So Sam walked over to Dean’s bed and watched as his brother lay there smiling slightly in his sleep. He wondered what was going on in Dean’s dream. He’d been told that Cas went into the dreams to keep bad memories away (yet he couldn’t push away hallucinations while Dean was awake) and that they’d then ‘go places and do stuff’. Something was bugging Sam in the back of his mind about that. About Dean’s dreams. He vaguely remembered that after the whole ‘Gordon incident’ he’d been brought into Dean’s dreams a couple times by Cas to escape his own nightmares, but those memories were all just jumbled images. 

Just like the last time he’d been in his older brother’s room this early, Sam’s eyes were drawn to the journal sitting on the nightstand. The boy was certain that it held answers. But he was equally certain that if he violated Dean’s trust by reading it, all the answers in the world wouldn’t matter. Because there was nothing out there worth damaging the relationship that he had with his brother. Still, it was damned tempting just sitting there…

“What are you doing in here, Sammy?” Dean’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Didn’t get enough of sharing a room with me back in Maine?”

Sam let out a short laugh. “Yeah… I mean, no, it was fine. I mean, it’s nice being home but I didn’t mind sharing a room…”

Dean gave him an odd look. “What’s up, Sammy?”

“I uh… I need to talk with you.”

“Okay.” The older boy sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Go on downstairs, Cas. We’ll be down in a bit.”

The angel nodded. “I’ll see you both soon.” Then he was gone.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dude still can’t get the hang of walking down a set of stairs. So… you wanted to talk?”

Yeah, Sam did… but how to ask Dean in a way that wouldn’t upset the teenager and would get the answers that the younger brother was needing to know. “I just… you said a lot of stuff back in Maine when you were really sick. Scary stuff. And…”

“And now that I’m all better you thought you’d confront me on it and demand answers.” There was no anger in Dean’s voice; just a wariness. It almost made Sam want to back down.

“Well, yeah. Kinda. I mean, you were talking about Hell, Dean. About being there. And at first I thought it was just ‘cause you were delirious, but then later that night when I was trying to sleep I heard Cas telling you that he’d gotten you out. And you talked about hellhounds coming for you. And you thought Mom was dead. And…”

“Whoa, slow down, Sammy. Let’s take this one step at a time, okay?”

“Okay. Have you ever been to Hell?”

“Yes.”

Sam felt his eyes widen. “What? But… how? When?”

Dean shook his head. “It was a while ago. You wouldn’t remember. Cas got me out.”

Sam wasn’t sure what to think. Dean had been to Hell. He’d known that something terrible had happened to his brother, but Hell? “But why? You’re not a bad person?”

Dean laughed and the laugh was kind of dark. “I can’t get into it, Sammy. I promise you’ll find out eventually, but…”

“Dean, why won’t you tell me everything? I know that there’s a big secret that you and Cas and Mom and Dad are all keeping from me and I don’t understand why! I know about monsters. I know about hunting. And now I even know that you’ve been to Hell. So tell me, what could possibly be so bad that you guys need to keep me in the dark?”

“Just… please drop it…”

“No, I want to know, Dean. It obviously hurt you badly. And it made you into who you are, which is someone really unique and wonderful but you’re damaged and I want to help you and I can’t. Not if I don’t know the truth!”

“I can’t tell you.”

“C’mon! You know everything about me. I just want to know what’s going on with you.”

“And I can’t tell you.”

“ _Can’t_ or _won’t_?”

“ _Can’t_.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just want to keep you a little while longer and once you know the truth everything will change!” Dean practically yelled. “And it’s not safe, I’m not safe, and just… God! Please stop pushing!” Dean was grabbing at his short spiky hair in frustration and he practically leapt out of bed and pushed past Sam on his way to the door.

Sam watched him leave, in kind of a shock. He’d wanted to satisfy his curiosity, of course, but he’d also asked because he’d been concerned about Dean and wanted to help. Yet all he’d done was upset the older boy. Great job.

He sighed and, with one last look at the journal that he vowed to never look in, the youngest Winchester left his brother’s room.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

“He’s going to find out eventually.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I know, Cas. But it doesn’t have to be today.”

The angel cocked his head. “Would tomorrow be better?”

The young hunter groaned. “I hope that was a joke.” With a sigh, he leaned back in the driver’s seat of the Impala and stared out the windshield. He’d driven out to the same park that he’d gone on the picnic with Emily with just to get away from home for a bit. But he really didn’t feel like getting out of the car and walking around or anything. Being in his baby was more calming.

“My point is that it will not get any easier as the time passes. And your brother is bound to ask even more questions.”

“Yeah well, no one with any answers is gonna tell him the truth.”

“No, but you and I both know that there are other ways to discover secrets. And wouldn’t it be better if the truth came from you?”

“I’m not ready, Cas.”

“Why not?”

“First off, Sam knowing could put him in danger.”

“Perhaps. But being a Winchester puts him in danger enough.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah.” He allowed. 

“So, what is the real reason?”

The teen shook his head. “You know me too well.”

“I would hope that after all these years I would know you.” The angel interjected.

“Yeah… but as soon as Sammy knows the real me he’s not gonna want anything to do with me anymore.”

Dean felt Cas’ intense gaze boring a hole into him, as though seeing right into his mangled soul. “That is why you do not wish to tell him the truth?”

“Well, yeah. Mostly. I mean, I also want to protect him, ‘cause the truth sucks and is dangerous and all… but yeah. I mean, first off, he’s gonna be pissed that we kept it from him. And then he’s gonna be appalled that I’m… me. He thinks I’m this… this _hero_ , Cas. And I kinda like it. But when he finds out that I’m just some broken, pathetic guy that screwed things up so badly that you had to move Heaven and earth to bring me back here just to set things right… God, Cas… I just want to be his big brother for a little while longer before I become… me.”

“Dean… you are a great man and while it will be a shock for your brother, perhaps you’re not giving him enough credit. I believe that he will always know that you are his big brother and….”

“I can’t do it right now, Cas. I can’t.”

“Then you can wait. But I would advise you to not wait too long.”

Dean nodded, but he didn’t speak. He couldn’t since there was a lump in his throat and he was busy fighting back tears. Cas understood better than anyone the kind of stuff that Dean was hiding from Sam because Dean was still hiding things from his parents as well. No one but the angel and Dean knew the full story behind all the ‘Righteous Man’ crap or how far Dean had truly fallen. The young hunter had dark secrets that he was keeping and they were always there in the back of his mind. He’d felt like screaming when he realized that he’d spoken some of them out loud while he was so ill. And now Sam was asking questions… hopefully half-answers and pleading with the boy to drop it would do for now.

“Well… great, then. So, if this massive chick-flick party is over, why don’t we have our breakfast and then hightail it home?” Dean reached behind himself and snatched up the bag of doughnuts that he’d bought on the way there.

He opened it up, pulled out a chocolate-covered crème-filled one and took a huge bite, before tossing the paper bag over to the angel. Cas hesitated for a moment (he didn’t need to eat, but had gotten used to it over the years) and then took out a jelly stick. Dean reached down, picked up his medium cup of coffee, and took a sip. His parents hadn’t been thrilled when he’d started drinking it at the age of thirteen, but he’d promised them not to OD on caffeine. Besides, he’d started drinking coffee at twelve the first time around.

“I believe Sam would be proud of you, by the way.”

“What?”

“When he learns the truth. Your parents know the real you and they are proud of you. I am proud of you. And when Sam learns all that you’ve done to keep this family safe, I believe he’ll be proud of you as well.”

“Yeah.” Dean said without really agreeing. It was a nice thought, but he couldn’t help but think about everything that could possibly go wrong.


	156. How Was Your Day?

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Six: How Was Your Day? 

Dean ran as fast as he could, pushing his body to the limits. He’d need to since the person behind him was much taller than him. But despite his size, the young hunter could move quickly. So, he kept up his pace and rounded the final turn. Dean kept his breathing even and forced his legs to go just a tiny bit faster as he neared his goal. Almost there. Almost…

Dean crossed the finish line and thrust his hands up in a victory gesture. Sure it was just a practice meet for track, but he’d still come in first so he figured that he could celebrate.

“Great run, Winchester!” The coach praised. “Patterson, nice job! You’re lagging a bit, Zimmerman.”

Dean gave a mock salute to Coach Bryans and flopped down onto the grass. The track pants and ‘Lawrence High’ tee he was forced to wear as a team member were severely lame, but he’d discovered on the first day of practice that showing up out of ‘uniform’ just got you sent back to the locker room to change. So, he sat there picking at the black pants with the red stripe that ran up the sides. It was better than the red shorts he’d been offered. To complete the outfit, he wore a red t-shirt with a picture of the school’s mascot, the ‘chesty lion’ (and boy could he think of a million jokes for _that_ ), on the left breast. 

He’d tried out for the team when his guidance councilor (and his parents) had pushed for him to add in some extra-curricular activities, citing that it would help him get into Kansas University after graduation. He still had to get through junior and senior years, but everyone said that now was the time to plan. And then Sam had gone and signed up for debate team, mathletes, and soccer (he was gonna be one busy kid!) so Dean had figured _what the hell_ and had looked into what was available to keep him busy after school until it was time to pick up Sam from his stuff. He’d been a bit disappointed to discover that he didn’t meet the age/weight requirements for wrestling (that brought back memories) but he’d look into it again next year. No way in hell he’d do football. He wasn’t going to put his questionable scars on display for swimming. He’d done baseball as a kid, but really that had been something special with Dad and he didn’t want to do it as a school thing. So he’d finally settled on track. Oh and Latin club. But that met once after school every other week and he’d already blown it off twice. It was boring as all hell.

“So where’s your trophy?”

Dean looked up to see Emily standing over him.

“Didn’t get one. I was disqualified for being too awesome.”

She dropped down next to him. “Aww, poor Dean. 

“Yeah, I totally deserve compensation… like, say whatever is in that foil covered plate you’re carrying that smells so awesome.”

“Oh heck no! I just spent all that time in home-ec club baking this pecan pie and I am not going to hand it over to the one guy that can consume it all before I can get a taste.”

“Pie?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“No… what? Did I say pie? I meant… carrot cake.”

“No, you meant pie. Hand it over.”

“Like hell.”

Dean chuckled. “First off, your language has suffered since you’ve spent time with me. And second… that pie is mine!”

He lunged at her and knocked her backwards, smoothly snatching the still-warm plate from her hands. Then he scrambled to his feet and got ready to run. She was fast, but he was faster. However, before he could get more than a step away, a hand grabbed his ankle and Dean went down. The hunter held the plate in such a way that it was protected in the fall. As soon as he was on the ground, he felt his friend climb on his back and begin to try and recover her baked goods. He struggled to hold it out of her reach. 

“Dean, you’re going to ruin the pie!”

“Well, you _could_ just let me eat it…”

“Never.”

“Then it’ll suffer a worse fate. Ow… hey, your knees are crushing my spine.”

“Don’t be a baby. You’ve had worse. Now give it back.”

“Never.”

“Sullivan!” The coach’s voice rang out. “Please leave Winchester in one piece so that we’ll have him at our next meet.”

“I can’t promise anything if he doesn’t give me my fresh baked pie back, Coach Bryans.” She responded sweetly.

The plate was pulled from Dean’s hands by the coach. The boy looked up to see Coach Bryans looking down at them with an amused grin, shaking his head.

“Get up you two and learn to share.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean replied with another mock salute. 

Emily let him up and accepted her pie back from the man. Once he walked away, she turned to Dean. “How come I have to share with you?”

“’Cause he likes me better.”

“That’s only because he thinks you can help the school win state finals this year.”

“Still… you owe me pie.”

With a smile, Emily sat down, opened her backpack, and took out two forks. “Here.” She passed one to him.

“Hey… you planned on letting me have some all along.”

“Like I’d really bring pie around Dean Winchester and _not_ expect to share.” She took the foil off and they both dug in. “So… any Halloween plans?”

“Yeah, I might still be out on a job. We’re heading out tomorrow, but it could turn into a weekend thing. You?”

“Go into my room, keep the lights on, pull the covers over my head, and go to sleep. I still like you and all, but after that first year I spent with you, the holiday kind of got ruined for me.”

“Yeah… sorry ‘bout that.”

“Not your fault. It’s just…”

“That was scary as all Hell?”

“Yeah.”

“Totally get that. There’s stuff that still haunts me.”

Emily shook her head. “Anything that can still haunt a badass like you has to be bad.”

“Really bad.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Sure. See, there’s this girl that’s always bugging me. Her name is Emily and she…”

A hard punch to his arm cut him off.

“Oh my God, you are such a total dork!”

Dean burst out laughing. Then he checked his watch. “I gotta go. Me and Cas have to pick up Sammy. See ya Monday.”

“Kick his butt for me, Cas.” Emily fake grumbled. Then she gave Dean a quick hug. “Take care. Come back in one piece.”

“’Course I will.”

Dean got up and walked off the field and into the mostly empty school building. Once in the locker room, he stripped out of his sweaty clothes and pulled on his jeans and Black Sabbath t-shirt. He’d have to shower at home to pick up Sam on time. Besides, public showering was just… wrong. Who wanted to be looking at other naked dudes while trying to get clean? He tossed on his denim over-shirt, shoved his track clothes in his locker and looked around to make certain that he was alone. 

“Okay, Cas. Let’s go.”

He felt a hand fall on his shoulder, and then both he and a now-visible angel were standing around the back of Lawrence Middle School. They walked around front just as a familiar long haired boy came bouncing down the stairs talking animatedly with another kid.

“No way! If that’s their standpoint, our team is definitely gonna win.”

The blonde boy shrugged. “That Tammy girl is very convincing, though.”

“Doesn’t matter. Their argument is lame. I don’t see that they can come up with enough facts to back up their… Dean!” He broke off his speech to wave excitedly.

Dean waved back. “Hey, Sammy!”

The boy ran up to him and gave him a hug. Dean chuckled. His little brother wasn’t embarrassed at all to be affectionate in front of his friends. Well, not with Dean, anyways. Last week he’d complained when their mom had given him a kiss on the cheek outside of the school building.

Dean ruffled Sam’s floppy, chestnut hair. The kid had suggested at the start of last summer that he get a haircut just like Dean’s, but the older boy had shot it down, claiming that it wouldn’t suit the younger child. Really, he just couldn’t ever picture his brother with short hair. That just wouldn’t be _his Sammy_. 

“Ready to go?”

“Yep. See you, Tim.”

“Bye. We’ll work more on the project next Tuesday, okay?”

“Same time, same place.” Sam gave thumbs up as they walked off. They went out of sight and then took the angel taxi home.

“Hey boys, how was your day?” Their mom asked.

“Great!” Sam replied. “I got an ‘A’ on my history test, the art teacher said she liked my project, and I found out that it was just a stupid rumor about dissecting a frog in science class. And we have a really good shot at winning in debate team.”

“Dean?” His mom questioned.

“I survived.”

“And…”

He rolled his eyes. “Aced a pop quiz, didn’t throw up the crappy cafeteria food, and did good at track.”

“And he did not get caught when he…” Cas started.

“Cas!” Dean cut him off. “Seriously, what have we talked about?”

“No, I really want to hear what he has to say.” Dean’s mom put in. 

Dean groaned.

“I just wanted to add that Dean replaced the slides in biology class with his own and did not get caught. The teacher was quite confused. And Dean seemed very proud.”

Dean felt his mom’s glare without even glancing at her to see if she was looking his way.

“Really?”

Dean shrugged. “The class is boring and the dude is a pompous ass. It was either this or sick Gabe on him.”

“And just what slides did you replace his with?”

“Uh… I snuck into the teacher’s lounge and made some on their equipment using some pages from a… magazine.”

“An age appropriate magazine?”

“For the kids in the class that are over eighteen.” Dean responded.

It was his mom’s turn to groan. “Dean…”

“Hey, it _is_ biology.”

Sam was trying to follow what they were saying. “What exactly did he do?”

“Nothing.” Their mom replied a bit too quickly, before turning back to him. “Now Dean, you are _not_ to pull a stunt like that again. Got it?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“And if you are ever caught doing something like that, I’ll encourage them to punish you however they see fit. Including keeping you after school to listen to more of your teacher’s lectures.”

“Oh c’mon! That is considered the worst kind of torture! Even demons don’t cross that line!”

His mom just smiled. “Now upstairs, all three of you. And I am _not_ telling your father about this because he’d probably approve.”

Dean snickered. As they headed off, he lightly pushed Cas. ‘Really? You had to tell her?”

“Sorry. I thought you considered it an accomplishment.”

“Yeah, but not one to brag about to my parents.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

“Why?” Sam asked as they all entered Dean’s room. “Dean can’t do anything like that again. He told Mom he wouldn’t."

“And so long as I don’t get caught, and Cas doesn’t slip up, she’ll never know.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “So you’re gonna pull more stunts?”

Dean grinned. “Oh Sammy, you have a lot to learn about pranking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! For some holiday fun, check out my Supernatural Thanksgiving oneshot, 'Our Untraditional Holiday Tradition'.


	157. Bait and Kill

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Seven: Bait and Kill 

Dean ran as fast as he could, pushing his body to the limits. He’d need to since the creature behind him was much faster than him. But the young hunter could move quickly. So, he kept up his pace even though he heard the thing gaining on him. It was coming closer and closer and closer…

Suddenly, Dean felt something solid collide with his back and he was knocked to the ground. He felt the sharp claws poke into his shoulders and fell still, not wanting to cause the creature to shred up his back. Its jaws lowed to the back of his neck and Dean felt hot breath waft over his skin. Warm saliva dripped onto his neck as the thing growled low and dangerously. In a second, the creature would go for the kill.

Then Dean felt a hand on his leg and he was transported several meters away. The hunter got up to a crouch, swung the shotgun off of his shoulder, took aim at the creature that was pawing at the ground in confusion at the fact that its prey had suddenly disappeared, and pulled the trigger. The wolf-like thing let out a sharp yowl as it fell, twitched once and whimpered, then laid still and silent. 

Dean turned to face Cas. “I thought we’d agreed that you were gonna be bait.”

“No one bothered to inform him.” The angel gestured to the dead creature.

Dean took a glance at the canine-ish thing that now looked perfectly normal, but was far from it. Even in the supernatural world, this creature was unique. For years, it had simply been referred to as a ‘spirit wolf’ and hunters thought that they signaled the arrival of another, more vicious creature, like a black dog. That was because the creature had only been seen as a non-corporeal being. Well, up until one hunter survived being mauled by the spirit wolf. It seemed that once the thing chose its victim, it would get close and then become corporeal to attack, kill, and eat it. Afterwards, the wolf would return to its ghostly form and disappear. From what little was known of them, spirit wolves remained physical only to kill, eat, or mate.

So, Dean and Cas had decided that the angel would walk around the area where the recent attacks had taken place until the spirit wolves went after him and then, once they were in their physical form, Cas would transport himself out of harms way and Dean would shoot the monsters. And the plan went smoothly for the first two. But the third had apparently decided that Dean was a better snack than Cas. 

“A pack is never more than six adults.” Dean commented. “If one stayed behind to guard their den, that means we have either one or two left to…” He was cut off as a wolf-creature jumped out of seemingly nowhere and almost landed right on top of him.

At the last moment, Cas grabbed his jacket and jerked him back and away from the monster. The thing skidded to the ground just inches in front of the hunter. Dean turned the shotgun around and used the butt of it to smack the creature across its muzzle. The wolf yelped and leapt away. Behind him, Cas raised his own weapon and fired. Unfortunately, the creature had recovered enough to become non-corporeal and the silver ammo passed right threw it. The spirit wolf raised its head and let out an ear-splitting howl. 

Dean stood side by side with his friend and they both kept their sights on the creature. It had their scent now and there was little chance that the wolf would let them go. But it would most likely wait and then pounce on them to go for the kill. Which would mean becoming physical once more. Which of course meant that they could kill it.

They were both so focused on the spirit wolf in front of them, that they failed to notice the one creeping up on their left until it pounced on Cas, knocking him to the ground. The creature went to tear into the angel, but before Dean could rush to his aid, Cas rammed the palm of his hand into the thing’s face, stunning it. The young hunter sometimes forgot how strong the angel was, but now watched in awe as his friend got to his feet holding the spirit wolf by the scruff of its neck.

Dean heard the other now-physical wolf coming up on him fast. Much too fast to turn and fire. And Cas wasn’t going to be able to help since he was dealing with his own creature. So the hunter dove out of the way, hit the ground, and rolled. He got to his knees and turned to see that the wolf was almost upon him. Damn it. These bitches were fast.

It pounced and landed on Dean, but the boy threw his body back and pushed up with his legs. He executed an awesome back flip and managed to toss the wolf from him. He contemplated kicking out at the thing, but the thought of it biting his foot was enough to make him pause. Yeah, probably not the best idea. So instead, he grabbed up a handful of dirt and threw it into the wolf’s eyes. As the monster whined and pawed at its face, Dean backed up and fired. The wolf slumped over dead.

He turned just in time to see Cas fire his own shotgun and kill the last spirit wolf. Yes! Their job was done. 

“I believe that that was the last of them.” The angel announced.

“Yep.” Dean nodded. “Except for the one left to guard the den and any babies that there might be. But that part’s up to my parents.”

“So we should head to the car, then.”

“Hell no. Take us to the den. You know, just in case they need back up.” Dean shrugged. Okay, so his parents were more than capable hunters, but it just wasn’t like him to sit at a meeting spot and hope that everything was going to turn out okay. Not when the situation involved people he cared about.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

The spirit wolf guarding the den had been easy to get rid of. It had turned corporeal the moment they had drawn near to its home and had attacked the two hunters. Mary had split from John and they’d gone off in separate directions. The wolf had chosen to follow her husband, probably deciding that he was the bigger threat. So she’d turned around, taken careful aim, and had killed the creature. 

The real challenge had come when they’d entered the den. There they’d found three young wolves in spirit form. The spirits had growled at them and howled. John had stepped up close, hoping to encourage the creatures to become physical, but it hadn’t worked. The pups had just howled louder and become more agitated. Mary joined him and they got up close enough to touch the wolves (had the young creatures been in a form capable of being touched) but still the damned things remained spirits.

“Maybe they’re too young to eat humans?” Mary suggested, thinking back to the sea serpents they’d encountered over the summer. If that was the case, would these young wolves die without their mothers as well? Or would they survive in spirit form to grow full size?

“I don’t think so.” Her husband shook his head. “I looked up information of wolves, and normal wolves this age would be eating flesh by now.”

The female hunter shrugged. “Well, we don’t know for sure… but yeah, they’re not exactly babies.”

After a while of debating, Mary ran back to their car (they’d driven rather than had Cas transport them since the area was only a five hour trip and Dean had practically begged them to take the Impala) and gotten out the cooler. They’d packed some raw meat just in case they needed some extra incentive to get the creatures out of hiding. She snatched it up and got back to the den within record time, hoping that John was going to be fine. It would be just their luck that the pups would decide to tear into him while his backup was gone. But when she returned, everything was the same that she’d left it. Well, her husband was looking a bit more impatient and frustrated, but he had never been known for his patience.

“Got it.”

“Good. Let’s see if that appeals to them.”

Mary opened the cooler and took out an uncooked steak. She held it out in front of her. One of the spirit wolf pups cocked its head to the side in a way that reminded her of Castiel. Mary threw it to the ground. All three sniffed the air, but made no move to retrieve it.

“Well, that worked well.” John mumbled.

“Maybe they don’t know what it is? Or they don’t care. From all reports, these things prefer humans.”

“Or maybe they just don’t know how to become corporeal.”

Mary shook her head. “They have to have eaten at some point.”

John ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Well, perhaps they just like screwing with us.”

Mary was about to agree with him when she heard some footsteps entering the den.

“Well, they got the one out there, so they’re probably already done.”

“I told you that you needn’t worry, Dean.”

“I wasn’t worried, Cas. I just thought we’d meet up here instead of at the car.”

“But you said…”

“Yeah, well, it’s not what I say, it’s what I mean.”

Mary watched as her son and Castiel stepped into the small space. The den itself wasn’t that large, just a small opening that could probably barely hold all the spirit wolves. And it was now officially quite overcrowded. Mary and John stepped to the sides to give the newcomers a bit more room. She saw Dean give a curious glance to the young creatures and was about to explain their dilemma when suddenly all three wolves growled low and took physical form. Their gaze was fixed on Dean as they all charged.

Everything processed in her mind in a matter of a second. She and John were too big to be prey for the young creatures, so they had remained in defensive mode; staying non-corporeal and howling at first for help. But Dean… Dean was just their size. 

Her son’s eyes widened a bit and he raised his weapon although there was no way any of them would be able to take a shot before the monsters would take him down. Then Castiel’s hand was on his shoulder and the boy was gone. With their son out of the way, and the wolves now corporeal, Mary and John opened fire. Before the creatures could react to the fact that their intended prey was gone and they were now the hunted, all three were dead. 

Mary lowered her shotgun. “They’re taken care of.” She proclaimed, loud enough for the two outside to hear. 

She glanced over to see her husband slinging his weapon over his shoulder. They exchanged a relieved look. The job was done and everyone was safe.

“Not going back in there if you paid me!” Dean called back.

She and John both chuckled. She grabbed up the cooler and they headed out. They’d all go back to the Impala and drive to a close motel for the night and make the drive back in the morning. It was starting to get dark and since Sam wasn’t home for the weekend (they’d made arrangements just in case this hunt took a bit longer), there was no reason to rush the drive and exhaust them all.

Once they exited, she saw her son and his friend standing there waiting. Dean grinned and lifted his hand in a half-wave.

“If we’re all done using me as bait, let’s hit the road. I’m due a huge greasy burger and a few hours sleep.”

Mary smiled. “Alright, let’s go. I assume you want to drive again?”

“You know me so well.”


	158. Morning Visitors

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Eight: Morning Visitors 

It was Sunday morning and one of the few where he didn’t actually have work, so Scott Anderson was woken up by the sun coming through his window instead of his damned alarm clock. It was a nice change of pace. So, instead of getting up right away, the young man lounged in bed. He stretched his arms up over his head, then rolled onto his side. Scott blinked lazily and then buried his bare arms back under the comforter. Sure, the sun was shining right on him, but he was used to the warmth of New Mexico and Kansas was just a bit cooler. Okay, probably only by about ten degrees, but still… 

Yep, another morning, another reminder of the drastic changes that had taken place in his life in such a short amount of time. Not that he wasn’t used to his life being a poorly built house of cards; he’d felt that way since his father had never returned home that awful day when he was sixteen. Yet by that time Scott had decided to follow in his dad’s footsteps and not even that cold body lying in the coffin could change his mind. His only concern had been his mother who was falling deeper and deeper into depression since the ill-fated bank robbery and he’d thought that him joining the force might push her over the edge. He needn’t have worried, though. One week before he left for college (he was a few months shy of turning eighteen but felt so much older) he’d come home to find that she’d taken her own life. Left a note and everything. One of those ‘can’t go on without my true love’ kind of things. It was hard to read covered with her blood and his tears. With no other family, Scott had taken care of the funeral and everything, and then had gone off to school. Just after he’d turned twenty-two, he’d become a police officer. And then realized that for some reason the entire force seemed to be against him. After a while he’d realized that it was most likely misplaced jealousy over the fact that Scott’s dad was still seen as a big hero. But since they couldn’t take out their pettiness at a dead man (well, except for the broken tombstone that Peter Anderson’s son had to prop back up only a day after the local paper wrote up a five year remembrance article about him) the cops apparently decided to turn their attention to the next generation. For a full year he’d struggled to do his damned job and help people. And then he’d encountered the Winchesters, angels, and demons. He’d been left with questions, fear, and a permanently screwed-up arm and hoped that the worst was over. Almost two years later, he was called to a meeting that became a hurricane against his house of cards life. 

And now… now he was living in a new state, working with a new police force, and trying to cope with the fact that he was some kind of anti-angel weapon or something. And the knowledge that if the angels found out, he’d be dead for certain. Him and any family he had left. Which wasn’t much. No parents, siblings, grandparents. He had an aunt that lived in Connecticut that he hadn’t seen since his dad’s funeral, and she had a son that was two years older than him that hadn’t bothered to show then and had used to treat Scott like crap when they saw each other as kids (Scott hoped that they were safe even if they were jerks but wasn’t about to call them and tell them that they might be in danger from angels). Other than that, there might be some extended family that he knew nothing about, but his mom had been an only child, as had both her parents. So, hopefully if the angels ever discovered the truth about him, the bloodbath would be relatively small. Of course, that meant that he’d probably never marry and have kids of his own. At least not while he had a huge target on his back.

It had actually been surprisingly easy to transfer up here. His superiors hadn’t really wanted him there, so there was no kicking and screaming to keep him. And when he’d looked into coming to Kansas (he’d claimed he had an old family friend up here that was getting older and needed looking after since putting down ‘on the run from angels’ was likely to only get him transferred to a psych ward) he’d found that his name had been on the reports that the Lawrence PD had received about the Winchester case two years previous and they were interested in him. In the end, things went more smoothly than he’d figure they would (especially with the way his life had been going) and before he knew it, Scott was moving into a one-bedroom apartment in Lawrence, Kansas. He’d made certain not to live too close to the Winchesters (nothing against the family but he didn’t want to put himself or them in any unnecessary danger if one or the other became a target) yet was close enough that they could help each other out if it became needed. And it was a sign of how screwed-up his life was that he’d painted protection sigils all over the entire place (hidden, of course) long before he’d gotten around to unpacking. Hell, he still had some cardboard boxes filled with stuff lying around the smallish place.

The longer he laid there and thought about things, the more depressed he was getting. So, with a sigh, Scott sat up and threw the covers off of himself. He swung his legs off the bed and got to his feet. It was a bit chilly, especially since he still didn’t sleep with a shirt on even though the temperature really did call for one. The policeman ran a hand through his hair and wandered out of his bedroom. 

He crept quietly passed the couch where Sam was still fast asleep. The boy had been dropped off by his family yesterday when they had headed out to go hunt something or another out in the woods somewhere. The Winchesters had said that the boy could go stay with Bobby, but Sam had practically begged to sleep over and Scott had figured _what the hell_. It wasn’t really like babysitting or anything. The kid was ten and could probably take better care of himself than most adults. He’d taken the boy down to the basketball court where the police officers sometimes played in their off hours the day before and then they’d gone to a bookstore. When the two had gotten back to Scott’s small apartment, the cop had cooked them dinner and then they’d settled in for a classic horror film marathon to celebrate the day before Halloween (it had been Sam’s suggestion… apparently he and Dean usually did this for a couple days around the holiday and were going to continue the tradition tonight as well). Sam had dropped off to sleep at some point during Night of the Living Dead and Scott had tossed a blanket on him, turned off the lights, and went to his room to read a bit before calling it a night himself. 

He moved around the island that divided the living area from the kitchen area and switched on his coffee maker. Scott glanced at the ‘provisions’ that the Winchesters had sent over with Sam. There was a partial loaf of bread, an open jar of peanut butter, a box of Entenmann’s chocolate covered doughnuts, a six pack of cola, and a half a box of granola bars. He was willing to bet that Mary had _not_ been the one to pack the bag. 

Ignoring the doughnuts, Scott started rummaging through his cupboards to get stuff out for breakfast. After taking stock of what he had, he decided on homemade waffles and sausage. He quickly whipped up the batter while his iron was heating up and placed a pan on the stove. As the first waffle was cooking, he tossed the small sausage links on the hot pan. Then he went and poured himself his first cup of coffee. Scott added in what he knew was considered far too much sugar and then returned to cooking, drink in hand.

He was almost done when Sam walked in the room, still looking half-asleep. 

“Wow, somethin’ smells good.”

“Waffles.”

“Huh… thought they just came in a box in the freezer marked Eggo.”

Scott laughed. “Nope. Sadly, I’ve never been able to make frozen waffles correctly. I either undercook them and they’re soggy or I burn them.”

“Must’ve taken cooking lessons from my dad.” Sam commented, sitting down at the tiny table. “But my mom makes really great pancakes and French toast. And Dean cooks really good food too.”

“Well, I try to eat a decent breakfast every day ‘cause if I get busy at work, I end up skipping meals sometimes.” Scott shrugged. “So, a frozen waffle wouldn’t really cut it anyway.”

“Guess not.”

Scott placed the plate of waffles and sausages down on the table. Then he went and grabbed two plates, a couple forks, knives, and a glass for Sam.

“Milk or juice?”

“What kind of juice?”

“Uh… apple or orange.”

“Orange juice, please.”

A moment later, they were both enjoying their breakfast. Scott was halfway through his when suddenly the boy across from him spoke up. 

“Did you always know you wanted to be a policeman?”

Okay… “Uh, well, kind of. My dad was a policeman. He had been since before I was born and I guess I always looked up to him. It seemed like a really great job; helping people and all. So I decided I wanted to do it too.”

Sam smiled. “That’s cool. Your dad must’ve been thrilled.”

“Well, he didn’t live to see me become a cop, but he was excited when I told him what I was planning. Of course, since I was six at the time, I’m not sure he believed I was really committed to it back then. But he still took me in to work with him sometimes to ‘train’ me and show me my ‘future work place’.”

Sam laughed. “That sounds great. I’m sure he’d be proud.”

Scott smiled sadly. “Yeah, he would. But he’s the kind of man that would be proud if I had a part-time job cleaning toilets somewhere. That’s just the kind of guy he was. ‘Course he’d probably have me committed to an insane asylum if I told him about the other stuff going on in my life right now. He didn’t believe in that at all.”

“I don’t think a lot of people do.”

“So, why the questions on my choice of profession?”

The boy bit his lip. “’Cause I don’t know what to do with my life.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “You’re ten years old. I don’t think you’re supposed to have it all planned out yet.”

“You had it all planned out at six.”

“True. But I think we can both agree that there’s something terribly wrong with me.”

They both laughed before Sam continued. “It’s just… sometimes I think about doing what my family does. And I like the sound of that even though it’s really scary. And I know how dangerous it can be ‘cause I’ve ended up in a few situations with them already. But as you pointed out; it’s helping people and all. And that’s cool. Besides, I doubt the supernatural is just gonna leave me alone to live my life, you know.”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh… yeah. Of course you get that. Right…” He paused, then sighed. “But I need a real job too since killing evil stuff doesn’t pay the bills. This isn’t Ghostbusters. Besides, who would _want_ to make a living doing nothing but that?”

“Have you talked with your family about this?”

“Not really. I mean, I mentioned the whole helping them hunt thing a couple times and they always say stuff like ‘maybe when you’re older’ or ‘we’ll see’ or similar things. I’m not looking to go out and jump in front of a demon right now, even though I know Dean was doing that when he was really young. I just want to talk about it. But they’re super protective.”

“You’re their youngest son.”

“I know. But what do _you_ think I should do?”

Scott sighed and pushed his plate to the side. “Well, you’re right that you need to be prepared for anything coming after you. Also, since I’m a cop, I’m the last person to try and dissuade anyone from taking up protecting the innocents. So, I say, go with your gut. You’re a bright kid, Sam. And your instincts won’t fail you. But use your head, too, and never bite off more than you can chew.”

The boy nodded. “Makes sense.”

“And you knew it all, already. You just wanted to hear it from someone else so that you’d feel better about it.” Scott grinned as the kid looked down guiltily. “So, any ideas at all on a normal job?”

“Well, Dean says that I’d make a great lawyer. And I do love debate team…”

“Lawyer huh? I went to college with some pre-law guys.”

“Really?”

“Yep. We were all taking some criminal justice courses. For different reasons, of course.”

“Wow… that’s neat.”

“So, are you seriously considering being a lawyer, or is it just something Dean suggested and a passing interest? And remember, it’s okay to not know. You’re only ten.”

“I guess I’m undecided right now. All I know for sure is that I want to do something that helps people.”

Scott nodded. “Well, that sounds good. And it’s great that you’re putting so much thought into everything. But remember to…” He cut off as something felt off and then he stood up so quickly that he tipped over his chair. The policeman didn’t understand how one of them could get in here… his place was warded. But then he recognized the presence and relaxed a bit.

“What is it with cops and doughnuts?” Gabriel asked as he picked up the box of Entenmann’s and ripped the top open.

Scott rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one that’s eating them. And how did you get in here?”

The archangel reached into his pocket and produced a charm.

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed. “That’s like the one that Cas has!”

“Yep! Dean-o gave it to me so I could hop on over to your house in an emergency. Lets me past all these pesky wards.” Gabriel popped half a chocolate covered doughnut in his mouth. “But really, Scotty, if you’re gonna be a police stereotype, at least spring for the good kind next time. Something with crème filling at least.”

“First off, I didn’t buy them and wasn’t planning on eating them. Second, you are the last person… being… whatever… to judge about eating habits. And third, the whole cops and doughnuts stereotype actually started a very long time ago because there used to be nothing open all night long like the twenty-four hour convenience stores we have nowadays, so when cops on overnight patrols would need a coffee and some food, the only choice they had was the doughnut shops because those places were one of the first to stay open. It has nothing to do with all policemen _actually_ liking to eat doughnuts. Which, since you are far older than me and have a sweet tooth, I’m surprised you didn’t already know.”

There was a moment of complete silence and then Gabriel spoke again. “I suppose now would be a bad time to ask if you could make me one of those waffles?”

“Why are you here? Because if it’s just to eat my food, you can go somewhere else.”

The archangel scoffed as he went through the kitchen cabinets. “Please. I can conjure food much better than what you have here. Have you ever even heard of junk food?” 

“Not really my thing.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache forming. “If you’re done insulting my groceries, what’s going on?”

“Well, first off, a little junk food might put some meat on your bones and make you appear that you’re not starving to death. And second, just figured you might want to know that some of my brothers and sisters are sniffing around your old stomping grounds.”

“What?” And his so carefully balanced house of cards life became shaken once again. 

“Yeah… tried stopping by the Winchesters’ house to give them a heads up since we’re officially all on one team now.” His smile was tight then, like he was unsure whether that was a good thing or not. “But no one was home. And since little Winchester is sitting at your table, the others are either out hunting and your babysitting, _or_ you kidnapped him and they’re on their way here to kill you.”

Scott shook his head. “Yeah, you’re a moron.” He said somewhat distractedly. 

Sam let out a laugh. “He didn’t kidnap me. And I don’t need a babysitter. I just need someone to keep me safe in case demons or angels show up.”

“What are the angels doing in New Mexico specifically?” Scott demanded.

“They’re in Roswell, looking for UFOs.” Gabriel shot back. At the policeman’s annoyed expression, he shrugged. “Look, it’s not like I went and asked. I was there on… business, and felt them. I stayed the hell away. _But_ , I _do_ know that Zachariah was there and that they were in your hometown.”

“It’s been two years since the incident.” Scott pointed out. “Why go back now?”

The archangel shrugged, and pulled out another doughnut. “My guess is that if something’s going on up in Heaven they might want to just go back and sweep up any previous messes they’ve made. Or they might be trying to start a fight. Or they might be down there enjoying the local food and sights. Either way, be glad that you heeded advice and moved.”

Scott nodded a bit numbly. “What if they ask around and track me up here?”

“Then you’re screwed.” The archangel sighed. “Your paths are going to cross at some point. This was all about making sure it wasn’t going to be on their terms when you were back in your old home far away from help sitting on the toilet taking a crap.”

“There’s a great image.” He muttered. “But yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“’Course he is.” Sam piped in. “We’ll help keep you safe if the angels show up. Just like you kept me safe back in the hospital and then helped us again in the bar. We all protect each other.”

“Awww, that’s sweet.” Gabriel mocked.

Scott shot him a look. “The kid’s right. We look out for one another. And I guess you’re part of that, so thank you.”

The archangel rolled his eye. “You want to thank me, stock your fridge better.”

“Is that all you think about?”

He shrugged. “That, porn, and pranks.”

Scott winced. “There’s a kid in the room.” He protested. 

Gabriel didn’t seem to care. “Ask a question, get an answer.”

“Well, Dean must think you care about more if he got you to join up with helping. And you even admitted in front of Uriel that you cared about the outcome of all of this.”

“How am I supposed to enjoy this world if it’s in ruins because of my idiot siblings?”

Scott smiled and shook his head. “Whatever you say. So, is that all?”

“Are you pushing me out the door?”

“Not yet…”

“Fine. Well… I had better things to do with my day then hang around the one guy on the whole planet that I have to be afraid of pranking anyway.” And with that, he was gone.

After a moment, Scott righted his chair and sat back down. He picked up his coffee and took a long drink but didn’t even look at his plate. His appetite was long gone.

“I’m sure everything’ll be okay.”

He glanced over at the small boy that was making an attempt to comfort him and forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“I’m scared a lot of the time too.” Sam admitted. “’Cause I know the bad guys are always after my family. But I’m glad you’re here.”

This time Scott’s smile was genuine. “You know what, I’m glad I’m here too. And I’m glad I got to meet you and your family. And even though we’re both scared, I think we’ll be just fine.”


	159. Snow

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Nine: Snow 

The cold snow was blowing in his face and Bobby cursed it, the weather in general, the creature he was hunting, and the tall, fifteen year old Winchester boy that was keeping up a pace that the older hunter wished he had the energy to match. For a moment he wished that Dean was still the small boy he’d originally met so that he’d have an easier time keeping up with those short little legs. But the teenager had gone through a growth spurt recently and now he was pretty much the same height as Bobby. But with stamina that was reserved for the young.

“Wait up, boy! Yer getting’ too far ahead!”

“Well, try to keep up, old man!” Dean called back, but did slow down just a bit.

Bobby shook his head. This was his first hunt with just him and Dean. The boy’s parents hadn’t been completely thrilled about the idea, but since the young hunter had argued that he’d been at it longer than them, they’d finally relented. Not even the kid’s guardian angel was tagging along this time since Cas was needed to bring the Winchesters to a hunt halfway across the country. Bill Harvelle was supposed to have backed Bobby up on this job originally, but then Jo had brought a nasty flu bug home from school and all three of the Harvelles were now laid up at home ill. So, Bobby had contacted the Winchesters to see if they could work something out. He’d watched Sam the previous Saturday evening while they’d handled a salt and burn and hadn’t thought that they’d be busy this weekend. But they were. Still, Dean had volunteered to go with him and after some debate, everyone had agreed. So, the previous day after school had ended, he and the teen had driven up to a cabin nearby and spent the night so that early Saturday morning they could start their hike up to the area where this creature had been seen. 

“We gotta be gettin’ close now.” 

Dean looked around at the white landscape. “How can you tell?”

“Some of us are keepin’ track. They make compasses and maps fer a reason.”

“Oh. I figured you were planning on us hiking until the thing jumped out and ate us.”

Bobby rolled his eyes even though he knew that Dean couldn’t see the gesture. “Well, if it tries, I’ll feed you to it and then run while it eats yer ass.”

“If it comes after me, I’ll just pull out its teeth and then teach it to hang the star on top of the Christmas tree.”

The older hunter groaned. “No more televised Christmas specials fer you. And, may I point out that it ain’t an abominable snow monster. As close as I can tell, it’s a yeti-like creature.”

“Poe-tay-toe, poe-tah-toe.” Dean replied. 

“Smart-ass.”

“Anyway, I never knew there was such a thing. Figured it was the same as bigfoot. A myth backed up by a bunch of crappy photos taken by conspiracy theorists.”

“There’s a bunch of legends and supposed sightings, but since this one ended with three dead hikers and a crippled hunter, I’m gonna go with this bein’ the real deal.”

“Safe bet.”

Any further conversation was cut off by a strong wind that whipped the snow into their faces. They both turned to put their backs to the worst of it. Damned, but Bobby missed summer hunts. He was wearing several warm layers, a winter coat, scarf, hat, and gloves but was still freezing his ass off. 

When the worst of it had passed, the two hunters turned around and continued on their way. The snow was getting deep the higher up the mountain they went and the conditions were far from favorable. If it wasn’t for the fact that people were still coming out here even with the recent deaths, Bobby would pack it in and return when the weather improved a bit. But the idea of being warm and safe at home and getting word that more civilians had been slaughtered just didn’t settle well with him.

After hiking for a bit in silence, he looked over at his friend.

“So, ya seemed ta sleep pretty well last night.”

“Yeah. Well, I mean as well as anyone _can_ sleep with you snoring away in the next room over.”

Bobby snorted “Keep it up and I’ll be returning from this hunt alone.” He waited a moment before continuing his previous thought. “I just meant that ya didn’t need yer guardian angel last night.”

The teen shrugged. “Yeah. I’m almost sixteen. I got a better handle on all the Hell crap than I did at age four. It just took my physical self to catch up with me and I’m able to push those memories away a bit myself at night now. Not really a big deal.”

“That’s good fer you.”

“Yep. Woulda been really awkward if Cas had to spend every night with me for the rest of my life. Try explaining that to the girls.” 

Bobby chuckled. “Don’t know who it’d be more awkward for. The girl or yer angel.”

“Glad I won’t have to find out.” 

The wind gusted again and again they turned away. A minute later, they were making slow progress in the correct direction once again.

This time it was Dean that broke the silence. “So, how’s the mutt doing?”

Bobby smiled. He’d gotten a ‘guard dog’ for his junk yard. Really, he’d always liked dogs and it had been far too long since he’d had one. 

“Rumsfeld is doing well. ‘Cept he chewed up my damned couch.” Maybe a puppy hadn’t been the smartest idea. 

“How can you tell the difference?”

“Yer not half as funny as you think you are.”

“Nope, I’m _twice_ as funny.”

Another gust of icy cold air caught them off guard and Dean was actually knocked off his feet. Bobby reached down and pulled the boy from his knees back to an upright position. They waited out the cold wind and then turned to continue but came to a sudden stop.

“Holy crap.” Dean exclaimed.

Bobby silently seconded that opinion. 

Right in front of the pair was the creature they’d been hunting. And it was huge. The damned thing towered over them and if it hadn’t been practically on top of them, there was no way that they’d have seen it in this winter ‘wonderland’. Because it was completely covered in white fur. Even its face was covered to the point where any features were hidden except for long dog-like ears that hung down the sides of its head. And those were covered in a soft-looking white fuzz. 

Bobby reached around and unslung his shotgun from his shoulder but before he could raise it into position, the yeti-ish thing growled (from a mouth that was still unseen under the long white hair) and smacked the hunter out of the way with one powerful arm. He went flying back and landed sprawled in the snow. A grunt to his left let him know that Dean had been knocked back as well. 

The older hunter propped himself up on his elbows to look around. He wanted to get an idea of where the creature was and then he’d make his move. Bobby wasn’t even halfway into a sitting position when a heavy weight dropped onto him. For the first time in a long while, he felt warmth in his torso where the creature was pinning him to the ground. Of course, the rest of him was freezing from lying back on the snow… 

The monster raised a huge paw into the air and long claws popped out, gleaming in the remaining sunlight. It took a swipe at Bobby’s face, but the hunter jerked his head at the last moment and was merely grazed. He prayed he’d be lucky again as the thing raised its arm high above its head once more.

But then Dean was on the yeti-like thing’s back, grabbing handfuls of its hair and practically climbing the creature. The monster abandoned its idea of clawing Bobby apart and tried to reach around to grab the teenager. Dean, however, had reached the creature’s shoulders and pulled out a wicked looking serrated knife and plunged it into the thing’s neck. It howled in agony as dark red fluid splurted out to cover the once pure white fur. 

With the pain, apparently came rage as the yeti-creature snarled and redoubled its efforts to snatch the threat from its back. But Dean held on tight and dug the blade in deeper, trying to kill the thing with his knife. It wasn’t really the best choice in weapons to take out a creature such as that, though. Bobby scrambled to his feet and aimed his shotgun. He didn’t want to risk taking a shot with Dean on the creature’s back, though.

“Dean! Get off of it!”

Before the boy could listen (if the boy even _knew_ how to listen), the monster succeeded in grabbing him by his jacket and tearing him away from the mound of white fur. Dean went flying past Bobby and the older hunter heard him cry out as he impacted in the snow. 

As much as Bobby wanted to check on his young friend, the yeti-like monster was only wounded, not dead and needed to be finished. So he pulled the trigger and watched the white fur of its head disappear in a small explosion of dark red, white, and an almost black color. The thing collapsed into the snow. 

Bobby turned from the semi-gruesome sight and ran to Dean who was already sitting up. The teen was brushing the cold snow from his hair; winter hat lost somewhere during the skirmish. 

“Dude, tossed about by a freakin’ white shag carpet. That’s embarrassing.”

Bobby chuckled. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

“So… why’d ya attack it with yer knife? A gun not good enough fer ya?”

Dean shrugged and looked a bit embarrassed. “I… uh, I dropped it when the stupid thing knocked me aside. I didn’t want to take the time to dig around in the snow for it when I saw that it was ready to kill your ass. So, I improvised.”

“Not that I’m not grateful fer the save, but if ya got yerself killed, yer parents woulda killed me.”

“Which is why I didn’t get myself killed.” Dean shrugged as he walked around, kicking at the snow to try and locate his lost weapon. “’Sides, I’m not gonna check out on a hunt against a creature that could be defeated by Rudolph the red nosed reindeer.”

Bobby sighed. “It’s still not an abominable snowman.”

Dean grinned. “That’s not the way I’m gonna tell it.”

The older hunter rolled his eyes. “Yeah… well, don’t expect me to back ya up.”

After they’d recovered all of their supplies except for Dean’s hat (he pulled his hood on and said that he’d be fine), the pair set off back down towards the cabin where they’d spend another night before driving back on Sunday. Except for some bumps, bruises, and the shallow cuts on the side of Bobby’s head, their hunt had gone well. As he’d expected, the not-as–young-as-he-looked teenager was an excellent hunting partner and Bobby found himself looking forward to the next opportunity he’d have to work with the boy one on one again.


	160. Graduation

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty: Graduation 

“… and graduating with high honors; Dean Winchester.”

Amidst the applause, Dean stood from the uncomfortable folding chair where he’d been sitting for the last hour and a half listening to boring speeches and most of his classmates’ names being called. He held his head high and grinned widely as he approached the make-shift stage that had been set up on the football field. The teenager resisted the urge to thrust his arms up into the air. This was actually pretty awesome. And totally different than getting a GED a couple years after dropping out of high school due to lifestyle and hunting issues. 

As he shook the principal’s hand and received his diploma, Dean glanced out into the audience and saw his parents, Sam, Cas, and Bobby waving to him. Graduation document in hand, the sixteen year old waved back. He returned to his seat, ignoring the few remaining names being called. Emily turned from her chair a few rows in front of him, smiling brightly and gave him a thumbs up. He stuck his tongue out at her. She wrinkled her nose and crossed her eyes back at him. He considered continuing their wordless war with a rude gesture, but then the principal started his final speech and Dean’s friend turned around to pretend to pay attention. 

“…And so it is with great pleasure that I say; congratulations to the class of Nineteen Ninety-Five! Go out in the world, succeed, and may all your dreams come true!”

There was wild cheering from all of his classmates as everyone stood and threw their caps into the air. Dean joined in, knowing that it would be easy to locate his afterward. Sam had helped him decorate it the night before; writing ‘Dean’ on the top with glitter-glue and hot-gluing on a toy black Impala. Sam had wanted to put salt on it and a devil’s trap as an in-joke, but Dean wasn’t quite certain how he’d explain the satanic-looking symbol to his teachers. 

There was good-natured pushing and back-slapping and Dean was bear hugged by one of his track teammates. He exchanged congratulations and handshakes and finally made his way through the crowd. 

When he got to the bottom of the bleachers, his mom pulled him into a hug.

“Great job, Dean.” She kissed him on the cheek.

“We’re proud of you, son.” His dad joined in, grabbing him for a hug even before he’d been released by his mom. 

It occurred to him that his father hadn’t been present for Sam’s high school graduation in the previous timeline, nor had he cared that Dean had succeeded in getting a GED ( _‘guess you’re not as dumb as you look’_ ). But this John Winchester was practically giddy with pride as he grabbed Dean’s shoulders to hold him back and get a look at him. 

Once Dean stepped away, Sam was there asking a million questions and chattering away about how it was so cool that Dean was the youngest student to graduate in his class but only one of twelve to graduate with the distinction of ‘high honors’. As the young boy kept on going, Bobby hugged him and offered his congratulations as well. 

Then their group (with Sam _still_ prattering on) starting walking towards the open gymnasium, where tables had been set up with all kinds of refreshments. As they got close to the doors, Dean waved to Scott Anderson who was standing there in his uniform. The young cop smiled and waved back. He was there on official business. It seemed that rumors had been spread around that someone was going to set off fireworks during the ceremony, so the police department had shown up to help search for any explosives. Which was completely pointless as Dean had had Cas transport them in during the valedictorian’s incredibly long speech and hide them in the dugout in the baseball field. Oh, and he was going to set them off during the reception, not the actually ceremony. 

So, after he’d helped himself to some of the snacks that had been set out, he slipped out the door on the far side of the gym and headed down the sidewalk that lead to the baseball field. Emily ran to catch up to him.

“So, ready to ‘enter the real world’?” She asked.

“Oh my God.” Dean rolled his eyes. “That was the lamest speech ever. I mean, what the hell were we living in up until now? A fictional world?”

“Well, maybe _you_ are.”

“Ha ha.”

She grinned. “Besides, I don’t get what will be so different now. I mean, we’re going to college, which is just a continuation of school.”

“Weren’t you the one telling me all those years ago how college was going to be so much better because everyone would be so much more mature?”

“Yeah… then I reached college age and saw that no one was actually more mature than when we were in middle school.”

Dean chuckled. “True enough. So, you decide what you’re going in for?”

“Uh… I guess journalism.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not really the kind of writing that I enjoy doing but my mom told me that there’s no real money in writing short stories or stuff like that. Besides, I’m good at it. I worked on the school newspaper and yearbook and the advisor said my stuff was excellent.” She shrugged. “So, what are you doing?”

“Well, I’m definitely taking the automotive mechanics courses.”

“You think anymore on doing the teaching courses as well? Mr. Makarewicz was right when he said that you’d be good at it.”

“I know. And he brought it up a few times this past year. Hell, he even offered to recommend me for his job when he retires, since it would be around the time I graduate from college. The job would have definite pluses. Like, summers off of work. But since Mr. Makarewicz also teaches two periods of woodshop, I’d have to take over that as well if I worked at Lawrence High. And if I didn’t work there but at another school, then I might end up teaching a few classes of auto shop and a few of whatever the hell they assign me to. And what the crap would I know about most subjects?”

“Apparently enough to graduate with high honors.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah… well, I still don’t know. Just fixing cars is simpler.”

“Well, whatever you want. But don’t sell yourself short. When do you need to make the decision?”

“Well, my first year a KU will be mostly required crap with some shop courses. But my advisor said that if I want to fast track the whole teaching thing, I can major in automotive mechanics and add the teaching degree. If I do it after I get the BS in mechanical engineering, it takes an additional two years to get the teaching certificate. But if I decide to go for it before I select my classes for my second year, they’ll work the classes in together and I can graduate with both in just five years.”

“Wow… So will I see you at all in university or are you going to be far too busy?”

Dean laughed. “Sounds far worse than it is.” They were both going to University of Kansas. The large college was right in Lawrence so they could commute and both teens had applied and been accepted. Hell, Dean had even gotten enough scholarships that he didn’t have to worry about paying for anything except books. 

“Doubt it. And you’re still going to keep up your… uh, extracurricular activities, right?”

Dean nodded. “Kind of my job.”

She looked thoughtful for a while. “Maybe I could come with you once. I mean, not for anything dangerous, but I’d like to see what a salt and burn is.”

Dean stopped walking and looked at her incredulously. “You want to watch me dig up a corpse and set it on fire?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds just awful. But, I don’t know… I just really want to see what you do. But not the demon stuff. I’ve seen enough demons to last a life time.”

“Oh come on, Love, we aren’t all that bad.”

Both Dean and Emily turned to see Crowley standing a few feet away.

“Crowley.” Dean folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t remember inviting _you_ to my graduation.”

“Oh please, like I’d really waste my time supporting you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I’m not the only demon in attendance.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean demanded.

“Alastair is here.”

Dean could literally feel the blood drain from his face. “What? Why?”

“Are you certain that you passed high school? He’s here for you. See, word is that the wait is over. He’s making his move and doesn’t want any minions to screw this up.”

“You were supposed to give me a heads up!”

“What the bloody hell do you think I’m here doing? Waiting for your fireworks display?”

“You could’ve let me know before now!”

“The was no warning. I let you know as soon as I did. And now I’m going before he knows I’m here.”

“Wait! Do you know his plan?”

“Grab you. Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Anything else?”

“Just that the angels are in on this.” The king of the crossroads shook his head. “You’re screwed in more ways than cheap hooker on a Friday night.”

Dean shot him a look. “Are they after my family too?”

Crowley shrugged. “What do you think I did? Sat down and had tea time with them? I told you what I know. And now our time is up.”

He was gone before Dean could question him further. 

The teenager looked around frantically. There was no one but him and Emily around, but that meant nothing. Emily… she couldn’t be near him. He was too dangerous to be around at the moment. 

“Go!’ He told her. “Go back into the gym. Tell my parents what just happened. Tell them that Alastair is here and that Cas has to take them home _now_!”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got to find Anderson. If angels are involved he might be in trouble too. And he’d know if they were here. ‘Cause I doubt Alastair would come without backup.”

She was nodding and looking nervous but determined. Dean shot her a reassuring smile and she threw her arms around him in a tight hug. He held her briefly and then let her go so that she could go warn his family. Dean wouldn’t let anyone he cared about get hurt.

After Emily was gone, the young hunter looked around. Still nothing. Dean started back towards the school building but had no intentions of going inside. The gym wouldn’t provide safety and going in might put others in danger. Alastair wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter innocents to get to what he wanted. So instead he circled around front to where he’d seen the police watching the doors earlier. 

Dean was rounding the corner when he saw Sam standing outside talking with Anderson. Damnit. Why couldn’t his little brother be inside, close to Cas where he could be transported to safety quickly? No problem, though. Dean would tell them both to go in and get to the angel and soon they’d all be back at the Winchesters’ home. Yeah, Anderson might have a bit of trouble explaining where he’d gone to his superiors, but it was better than hanging around here to get picked off by demons and angels.

As Dean got closer, he saw the cop’s head jerk up suddenly, and the man looked around warily. There was at least one angel in the area. The hunter went to pick up his pace, but a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder from behind. Dean was spun around to face his geometry teacher. Well, Alastair wearing his geometry teacher if the white eyes were any indication. 

“So, Dean Winchester, we meet again. You have no idea how long I’ve looked forward to this.”

He was frozen for a moment with fear. Then instinct kicked in and he started to struggle.

“Let go of me, you son of a bitch, or I’ll…”

“Oh, I wouldn’t fight back unless you wish your brother’s blood to paint the walls here. I haven’t come alone.” 

Dean glanced over at Sam and saw five people moving in on the boy and Anderson. The cop was reaching for his weapon, but everyone knew that it wouldn’t do much against demons. 

“Leave him alone.”

“I might. He’s not the one I’m after. You on the other hand…”

Dean was trying to think of a way to take out Alastair and rescue Sam when suddenly he was shoved to the ground and held there by a crushing force. The teen struggled to even breathe as the pressure increased terribly. When he looked up he saw a foot coming right for his face. There was an incredible explosion of pain and everything went dark.


	161. Everything’s Gone to Hell

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-One: Everything’s Gone to Hell 

Sam had been enjoying himself immensely up until everything went to Hell. The ceremony had been a bit long, but it was worth it to see his brother graduate at almost the top of his class. And Sam couldn’t help but think about the fact that that’s where he’d be in five years. God, he couldn’t wait! Afterwards they’d talked with Dean and then gone inside for refreshments. His brother had snuck off after a few minutes and Sam got a bit bored listening to parents talking about their kids’ plans. He really didn’t care what anyone else was doing… Dean had been accepted to KU on a full ride and that was just awesome! So after a minute or so, he’d excused himself and stepped outside to where he’d seen Anderson as they’d entered the gym earlier. He knew that the policeman was technically working, but he’d seen the other officers milling about inside chatting, so he figured that his friend wouldn’t get in any trouble for talking with him while on duty. He stood by the door, talking with Anderson for a bit, really getting into their conversation. The cop never talked down to him or treated him like a kid. He was just explaining how he himself couldn’t wait until he got to start high school when Anderson jerked his head up and started looking around with wide, concerned eyes. Sam knew what that meant; an angel was here. And probably not a nice one. 

But before he could even ask about what the policeman was sensing, he saw five guys coming towards them in a menacing sort of way. As they got close, Sam saw that their eyes were black. Angels _and_ demons? Oh hell. The boy stepped back and ended up pressed into Anderson, who was reaching for his weapon. A gun wouldn’t do anything against the demons though and they both knew it. Still it was more than what Sam had. 

Sam wasn’t sure what made him look over to the corner of the building; maybe it was a sound or he’d caught a movement from the corner of his eye or maybe it was some weird sixth sense, but when he glanced over there he felt his heart stop. Dean was lying on the ground and a man stood over him and kicked him hard in the face. Sam’s big brother lay completely still.

“Dean!” Sam went to run to him, but the man looked up and even from a distance, the boy could see that the guy’s eyes were pure white. 

The man smiled evilly. 

Then the doors to the gym slammed. The boy turned to see them closed tight.

Anderson pulled him close to his side and Sam looked back to Dean just in time to see the white-eyed demon (‘cause that’s what the guy had to be) crouch down and grab on to the older boy. They both disappeared.

“No!” Sam cried out.

But there was no time to do anything because a fluttering sound could be heard and then another person (angel) joined the group. The angel pulled out a blade and held it out to them.

“Hand the child over.”

“No.” Anderson responded.

“Then we kill you and take him.”

“Why?” Sam asked. “Why did you take Dean? And why do you want me?”

“Your brother holds the answers we seek and you would be wonderful leverage.”

“Yeah well, screw that and screw you!” Sam yelled, channeling Dean. “Just bring Dean back and leave my family alone!”

“I’m sorry but we can’t do that. Now, come with us, Sam Winchester.”

“He’s not going anywhere.” Anderson spoke. 

“He is. I don’t know who you are or why you are interfering in our business, but this is the final time.” The angel nodded to the demons and suddenly Anderson was torn away from Sam by an invisible force.

The boy turned his head to see the policeman slammed against the wall of the school, his body pinned there with the young man’s feet dangling off the ground. Anderson groaned and then gasped out in pain. Blood started to soak through his uniform shirt as one of the demons laughed.

“Just finish him off.” The angel scoffed.

“Oh come on! We’re due a bit of fun.” The demon argued. “And this… this is fun.”

Anderson let out a short cry and then was choking on a mouthful of blood. Sam was frozen to the spot, unsure of what to do. He knew that he couldn’t just stand there watching his friend get killed and then let the demons and angel drag him off to use him against Dean. And what would they even do to him? What were they doing to Dean? No, now was not the time to think about that. He had to act… But what could he do? If he rushed the demons, they’d just hurt him and grab him. Same for the angel. It was too bad that the angel hadn’t gone after Anderson instead of the demons. If he had, the policeman would’ve been able to have fought back. But since the angel was just standing there and not actively using his powers, Anderson wouldn’t be able to drain its grace.

That’s when Sam got his idea. With a silent prayer to any non-evil Heavenly beings, the boy turned and took off running at the angel. He figured that his opponent wouldn’t just stab him if he was needed alive. Well, he hoped he wouldn’t get stabbed. As he got close, the angel put up a hand and Sam found himself held firmly in place by an unseen force. It was more than just restraining though; it was slightly painful, like the angel was using his powers to hold him too tightly. Most likely because he was pissed that the boy had _dared_ to resist and now attack him. Sam winced and hoped that he wasn’t about to get his insides crushed.

“Anderson!” He called out, hoping that the cop wasn’t too busy being bled dry to notice that the angel was now using his powers. Sam’s plan turned out to be a good one though, because the force holding him was only in effect for a moment before the angel’s eyes widened and his powers faltered. Then the guy let out a moan, dropped his blade to the ground, and held his head, just like the one back in the Harvelle’s bar had that night. Sam could once again move and he darted forward and snatched the blade up off the ground. 

“Wha… no…” The angel was muttering, but Sam ignored it and turned to see Anderson, who was staring straight ahead at the demons. The group of five seemed confused by the angel’s reactions and unsure of what to do. 

Sam was watching Anderson and saw his eyes briefly glow with a soft light and then the demons started to gasp and cough. The boy turned away from his friend to watch the possessed men drop to their knees, shaking violently as black clouds spewed from their mouths and their eyes all glowed just as Anderson’s had. The demon clouds themselves seemed to glow as they went up into the air, caught fire, and burned into nothing. 

Sam whipped his head around just in time to see Anderson collapse onto the ground. He went to run towards him but was grabbed from behind. Damn. He’d forgotten about the angel. The blade was wrenched from his hand, but Sam felt that the angel was leaning over him, so he brought his head back and into the guy’s face. 

Once he’d been released, Sam took off to Anderson’s side. He dropped down and looked at the amount of blood on the policeman’s shirt. It didn’t look like it was enough to kill him, but Anderson’s eyes were closed and he didn’t seem aware of what was going on around him.

Sam turned to see the angel stalking towards them, blade held in front of him. The boy reached over and pulled the gun from Anderson’s holster. If the angel had no grace, a bullet would kill him. Sam aimed but hesitated. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill a guy. But he _could_ slow him down. The boy readjusted his aim and pulled the trigger. A shot rang out and the angel dropped down as the bullet tore into his leg.

Screams rang out from inside the building and Anderson suddenly snapped awake. The angel kept coming forward and Sam saw a crazed gleam in his eyes. Then the gun was pulled from his hand and Anderson shot the approaching angel in the chest. The not-so-Heavenly being dropped down dead.

Anderson leaned his head back. “You okay?” He asked Sam.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” And he was. A bit shaken, and his ribs were really sore from being squeezed by the angel’s powers, but yeah… he was fine. “You?”

“I’ve had worse. I don’t think the cuts are that deep, actually. Look, grab the blade and bring it here. Quick.”

Sam did as he was told. He handed it to the policeman and watched as he used it to slice open his shirt and got his blood on the weapon.

“What are you doing?”

“Put it back.”

“Okay…” Sam followed directions and then hurried back to Anderson’s side just as the gym doors opened and three policemen rushed out. The boy wondered what took them so long. They’d probably been out back searching for any fireworks… he kind of wondered if anyone had found Dean’s stash by now. 

“Scott!” One of the guys exclaimed. “Oh crap! What the hell happened?”

“Guy was nuts… said he wanted to cut up the kids.” Anderson ‘explained’. “I told him to back off but he came at me with that weird sword.”

Sam understood why Anderson had done what he’d done with the blade. He just hoped that the other cops would buy the story. And he wondered how the five once-possessed guys were going to be explained. But when he glanced over, the bodies were gone. What? 

“Rob’s calling an ambulance right now. Hang in there, okay?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Anderson responded through clenched teeth.

“Are you okay, kid?” The other cop asked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Officer Anderson protected me when that crazy guy showed up. I got really scared, but I’m not hurt.”

“Sam.” 

The boy looked up to see Cas standing there looking anxious. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Then he decided that he needed to act like a normal kid would.

“Uncle Cas! This crazy guy tried to kill me! And he wanted to kill everyone here!” He got up and ran to the angel. Cas held him as the boy threw his arms around him. Okay, maybe it was also nice to feel safe after all that. 

“I am pleased that you are alright.” 

“Where are Mom and Dad?”

“They had to go home. I stayed to bring you back when you were ready. Have you seen Dean?”

Sam couldn’t tell him what had happened with the cops right there, but he had to say something. “Uh, he took off. He wasn’t feeling well.”

“I see.” 

“You can go home with your uncle just as soon as you give a brief statement.” The cop informed him. “If you think you can manage it right now.”

Sam nodded. Best to get that over with. He heard ambulance sirens in the far distance and glanced over at Anderson who sent him a tight, pain-filled smile. 

The boy was pleased that Anderson would be alright, that he himself had made it through the fight, and that Cas had apparently gotten his parents home safely. But that left Dean out there somewhere with a demon that wanted information from him. And Sam doubted that the demon would just ask for it nicely. 

“What’s your name, kid?” the policeman asked him.

“Sam. Sam Winchester.”

“So, starting from the beginning, what were you doing out here? Everyone was asked to please remain inside for the reception.”

“I know.” He glanced over at Anderson who nodded. Oh well, he figured that the police would find out his connection to the Winchester family for sure since it was all in their reports from almost four years ago. “But I saw Officer Anderson and wanted to talk with him because he helped rescue my brother Dean when he was kidnapped a few years ago. And the reception was boring.”

“So you stepped out and were talking with Officer Anderson…” The cop prompted.

“Yeah, and then this guy came and was muttering stuff about how he was gonna kill the graduates. I thought he was drunk or something ‘cause my health teacher says that drinking can make people act crazy… Do you think he was drunk?”

“Maybe. We won’t know for a while. What happened next?”

“He pulled out that sword and came at me. Which I don’t get ‘cause I’m not even a graduate.”

“Why didn’t you try to get inside the school?”

“I couldn’t without going past him and I was too scared to try.”

“How did the doors get closed?”

“Officer Anderson reached forward to close them after he pushed me behind himself. I guess he wanted to keep the crazy guy away from the other kids. But he got too close to the guy and that’s when he got attacked. So I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t try to get into the gym.” Damn it was hard coming up with excuses for everything. Sam wondered how his family came up with cover stories all the time. “But then Anderson shot the guy in the leg to stop him and was warning him and the guy kept coming and I thought for sure we were gonna be killed. But that’s when he shot him again and…”

“C’mon, Tony.” Anderson interrupted. “Stop interrogating the kid. This has been rough on him.”

“Well, he should’ve stayed inside like he was supposed to.”

Anderson’s eyes narrowed. Even slumped over on the ground bleeding, he now looked like someone you wouldn’t want to screw with. “And _you_ should’ve stayed with me watching the door. Do you really want to make an issue here?”

Officer Tony looked a bit embarrassed. “Well, there was nothing going on out here so I figured everything would be fine. I didn’t think it’d take more than one officer to watch a door.”

Sam was actually grateful that the guy had left his post. He’d have been slaughtered for sure by the demons. But he didn’t say that out loud. “Well maybe if you were here, Officer Anderson wouldn’t have almost been killed.”

One of the other cops stepped in. “He’ll be okay, kid. And I guess if there’s anyone to handle a crisis alone, it should be Scott, huh?”

Anderson rolled his eyes and then closed them as the ambulance pulled into the parking lot. “Yeah well, I’d rather not do this again.”

Sam watched the paramedics rush towards him. The thing was, it was almost certain that stuff like this was just going to keep happening to Sam’s family and friends.

“Can I go now?”

The cop that wasn’t Tony nodded. “Sure. We’ll call if we need anything else. You sure you’ll be fine?”

“Yeah, I just want to see my parents.”

“Okay, kid. Take care.”

Cas put an arm around him and the two of them walked off to the parking lot. As soon as they were out of earshot, Sam started talking.

“There were demons, Cas. Five of them, and a white-eyed one. And an angel too. The white-eyed one… he took Dean. And all the others attacked us. But after I got the angel to use his powers, Anderson took his grace and then killed the demons. Then… Cas, I shot the angel.” It was weird to think that he’d shot someone. Sam was very relieved that he hadn’t been the one to kill the guy. “But Anderson shot him the second time.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you. I sensed that there was an angel inside the building. He had gone after your mother while she was in the bathroom. I confronted and killed him.”

“Is Mom alright?”

“She was injured but will be fine. But then I found that Emily had warned your father that a powerful demon called Alastair was here, and your father was searching for you and you mom. I convinced them to allow me to transport them home. The fewer targets here, the better. When I appeared outside, I saw you and Anderson had already handled things and so I teleported the once possessed people to outside a hospital and came back.”

“That’s why the bodies were gone! Were they…”

“They were alive when I left. Now, let me bring you back home. I’ll retrieve the car later.”

Sam nodded. He needed to be back in his house where it was safe and he had his parents. Besides, the sooner they started working on a rescue plan, the sooner they’d get Dean back.


	162. Apocalyptically Rough

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Two: Apocalyptically Rough 

Mary was pacing the living room floor, practically insane with worry. If it wasn’t for the fact that Castiel had been right that the angels and demons would use her and John against Dean, there was no way that he’d have been able to have convinced her and her husband to go home while their children were in danger. But Castiel could get them out quickly and quietly and once everyone was home safe, they could regroup and plan out their next move. Because Alastair going after Dean meant that they’d have to do something about the problem now. But first, she just wanted to hold both her kids again. Then she could go kill that damned demon…

“Mary, please sit down. You’re hurt.” John’s voice was caught somewhere between ordering and pleading.

“I can’t. I just… I’m worried.”

“And falling over won’t help the boys.”

“I’m not that injured.” Okay, so maybe her shoulder and collarbone were stinging and burning from where the angel had cut her and the back of her head was throbbing from where it had been slammed into the bathroom stall, but she could ignore all that until she knew that her kids were safe. After all, John had already patched her up, so she wasn’t in any danger. And if they’d already had all that time, why wasn’t Castiel back with her children yet?

She was just about to suggest taking John’s truck and driving back to the school when suddenly Castiel appeared in the room with Sam. She expected him to let go of the boy and disappear again to go retrieve Dean, but while he did release his hold on her youngest son, the angel made no move to leave again.

“Mom! Dad!” Sam ran forward and wrapped his arms around her. 

“Sam, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. But the white-eyed demon took Dean. And Anderson got hurt. And then Cas told me you were hurt too. And I just…”

“It’s okay, Sam.” She held him tightly. But it wasn’t okay. Because if what he said was true, then Alastair had Dean. She looked over at Castiel. “What happened?”

“When I arrived back, Dean was already gone and Sam and Anderson had disposed of the demons and angel.”

“Demons and angel?” John beat her to questioning.

“Yeah,” Sam piped up. “They were attacking ‘cause they wanted to grab me and bring me to wherever the other demon took Dean.”

Oh God. Mary had come so very close to losing both her boys and she hadn’t even been there to help them. “But you’re okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No. I mean, the angel squeezed me a bit with his powers when I ran at him, but I had to get him to, so that Anderson could take his grace away. And my ribs only hurt a little.”

Mary immediately started to feel around the boy’s chest and breathed a sigh of relief when nothing seemed to be broken. She pulled him back into a hug, ignoring her own injury as the motion made it flare up. “I’m glad that you’re okay.”

“But Dean’s not!” Sam exclaimed. “We gotta go rescue him!”

“We will.” John promised. “Cas, do you have any idea where he would have been taken?”

“No. And with the symbols on his ribs hiding him from angels, I cannot find him.”

“Where’s Bobby?” Sam asked.

“He’s on the phone, calling up contacts to see if anyone’s heard of any noise on the demon or angel planes.” Mary answered. “How’s Anderson? You said that he got hurt?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “One of the demons did something where it cut him and made him bleed without even touching him. But he said he was okay and that the cuts weren’t bad. The last time I saw him, he was being put in an ambulance.”

“Okay.” Mary sighed. At least he wasn’t dying. Although at this rate they were going to get the poor guy killed when all he’d ever tried to do was protect their family. Yet she knew that as soon as he was out of the hospital and they found where Dean was, she’d be asking for his help again. Because if her son was in trouble, she’d do whatever it took to save him. “Then we need to focus everything on finding Dean. Bobby’s calling around…”

“I’ll go let him know that Dean is missing, so he could subtly put word out to the right people and maybe place a call to the Harvelles too.” John volunteered. 

“Good.” Mary nodded. 

“What else can we do?” Sam asked anxiously.

“I will go look around the school for any clues.” Castiel spoke up. “Perhaps there will be something there.”

It wasn’t likely, but anything was better than nothing. “Thank you, Castiel.” Mary forced a smile. Once he’d left, she took a deep breath. There was one more path to finding Dean and she had to try them all. “Gabriel, please hear this prayer. This is Mary Winchester and we need your help. If you hear me, come now.”

She looked around but Sam was still the only one in the room with her. She wasn’t sure whether she should repeat her request or not when a voice spoke up.

“If that’s how you guys pray, it’s no wonder you don’t get divine intervention.”

She spun to see the archangel standing there opening a chocolate bar in a purple plastic wrapping. The label read ‘Milka’. 

“I was just trying to get your attention. And it obviously worked.”

“And interrupted my lovely vacation in Germany. I was just about to really teach this one pompous ass a lesson.”

“Well, I’m so sorry for messing up your plans with my son’s kidnapping, but maybe if you weren’t so busy stuffing your face with international chocolate, Alastair wouldn’t have his hands on Dean right now!”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened. “Babysitting your brats was never part of our deal, lady. I agreed to come when things got apocalyptically rough. Not to hold your hands with every step that you guys took. You have my baby bro for that job.”

“Well guess what, things are ‘apocalyptically rough’.”

“Then it’s good that you called. Guess you all believe in ‘better late than never’.”

“Hey!” Sam yelled. “Stow it, okay? Dean needs help, not us bitching at each other.”

“Sam, language.” Really, she scolded him more out of habit than anything.

“You can ground me when Dean is safe. But for now can we please try and find him?” He turned to Gabriel. “Can you do that, Gabe? Can you find Dean?”

“Not with that tic-tac-toe board carved into his ribs.”

“What about Alastair?” Mary asked.

“Or your brothers?” Sam added. “The demons are working with angels. They might all still be together.”

The archangel looked between them. “That’s not a good sign. Yeah, I can start looking around. No promises though. When these guys want to stay hidden…”

“They do.” Mary agreed. “But they’re staying hidden from us hunters. They don’t know that we have an angel and an archangel on our side.”

“So our chances have gone to one in a million instead of one in a billion.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. 

“ _Our chances_ ,” Mary bit back. “Are one hundred percent. Because we _are_ getting my son back.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

As awareness crept back into his mind, Dean realized that he was in pain. Not terrible pain, but just enough to know that something was wrong. Of course, the bite of the chains around his wrists and ankles also let him know that something was terribly wrong.

The young hunter opened his eyes and blinked to clear his vision. Nope, it wasn’t his vision. The room that he was in was just dim. At least he hoped it was and that he hadn’t suffered any permanent head injuries. 

Dean was lying on a table of sorts, towards the corner of a semi-large room. The room had gray cement walls and no windows. One bare light bulb hung from the ceiling. It kind of reminded Dean of the set up for a basement, but the air in the room didn’t feel like he was underground. There was one metal door along the wall opposite where ‘his’ table was, but it was closed. 

The teenager craned his neck to see further around the room and he wished immediately that he hadn’t. On the walls hung all sorts of tools that reminded him of his time in Hell. And there was a second table filled with more of the same. And now that he saw them (and couldn’t unsee them) Dean found that his eyes just wouldn’t look away from them. He remembered what every single tool was for and found his heartbeat picking up speed and his breath catching as panic flooded his system.

Where the hell was he? What was he doing here? How did he even get here? Wasn’t he supposed to be setting off fireworks at his high school graduation? Then he remembered Alastair and his panic attack was complete.

Dean yanked at the tight chains that were holding his arms above his head and his feet pulled toward the end of the table. It was no use. Unless he suddenly developed superpowers he wasn’t getting free. 

Now would be a really great time for Cas to show up, but there was little chance of his friend finding him with the enochian symbols carved on his ribs. They’d tried a few times to find a way to exclude Cas from that particular spell, but nothing had ever proven successful. Now he wished that they’d tried a bit harder.

He was trying to consider other options (of which he came up with absolutely nothing) when the metal door he’d noted earlier opened. 

Dean resisted the urge to flinch when Alastair waltzed in, still wearing his school’s geometry teacher. Instead, he forced himself to glare at the demon.

“Your hotel’s accommodations suck.”

His comment was ignored. “Dean Winchester. I promised you that we’d have some quality alone time.”

“Yeah well, that was years ago and the offer expired. Sorry but you’ll have to make a new appointment.”

“Still think you’re funny I see. Perhaps you won’t be as humorous when I remove a good portion of your flesh from your bones.”

Dean made a face. “If you do that, I’ll probably die and you’ll be left with no answers. And that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You still have absolutely no clue why your lame-ass plans got thrown off track all those years ago?”

“True. But you _will_ be answering my questions, with or without all of your skin, organs and body parts intact. See, this room that you’re in is the closest thing I could get to Hell without actually dragging you there. But all you need to know is that as long as you are here, your body will not die and your soul will not pass on. I can torture you for years, take you apart, bleed you dry, and do whatever I please for as long as I like and you will remain alive through it all until I decide to let you go.”

Dean’s mind immediately flashed back to the demon torture facility he’d been in back before Cas had brought him to 1983; except that place had only prevented him from falling unconscious, not from dying. If what Alastair claimed was true, he was truly at the demon’s mercy… and Alastair had not a shred of mercy at all. 

“Well, since I have no answers for you, you might as well let me walk now.”

“I think we both know that’s not going to happen.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying…” Dean muttered.

“So, as I really don’t want to give you the option of the ‘easy way’, let’s get started.”

Dean steeled himself for what was to come. He stared straight up at the ceiling, trying not to notice Alastair walk past and over to where the tools were kept. He didn’t want to know what the demon was going to grab. And he didn’t want to think about what his torturer was going to do with it. Sure, this method really hadn’t helped deal when he was in Hell, but maybe it’d help now…

All illusions of that disappeared as something sharp sliced into the flesh of his leg. Dean bit into his bottom lip, refusing to give Alastair the pleasure of hearing him scream. Well, at least this early in the game. He knew from experience that he’d be crying out in agony soon enough, but he was Dean Winchester, damn it, and he wouldn’t show pain at the very first cut. No, he was going to hold out as long as he could before he made any sound of discomfort. And as for giving in completely… it just wasn’t going to happen. Not this time. Alastair could do as he liked and Dean would never break. At least that’s what he told himself as the blade sunk even deeper into his flesh and scraped against the bone of his left leg. A grunt escaped his lips as Dean vowed to remain strong for however long he was a prisoner here. Even if it was the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone... Uh, for the next few chapters there WILL be torture warnings... This is a pretty dark part of the story. Sorry if that bothers anyone.


	163. Losing It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The story is still covering dark topics and torture.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Three: Losing It 

Nothing. It had been a full day and there was absolutely no sign at all of Dean. Cas had found no trace of any clues at the school, they had received no callbacks from any of their contacts, Gabriel hadn’t returned, and their oldest son hadn’t come running back through their door saying that he’d beaten the crap out of the demon and escaped (not likely but not impossible). John was officially… pissed? Worried? Crazy? All of the above. 

And he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept at all the previous night and now that the day was more than half over he was running on fumes. Well, fumes and caffeine. But that just wasn’t cutting it anymore. And John realized that the combination of volatile emotions and lack of sleep were making him snap at everyone, but he was just too tired and emotional to really care enough to reign himself in.

“What the hell do you mean that you couldn’t find anything?” He practically screamed at Cas.

“We all knew that it was a long shot for me to check out those locations.”

It had been decided that Cas would go look in all of the places that he knew that demons had taken prisoners to in the alternate future. 

“Well, if you knew that it would be a waste of time that you could’ve been helping my son, why’d you bother to go?”

“Because I am attempting to think of ways to help locate Dean.”

“Well, great job.”

“Dad, drop it. Cas is doing all he can.”

John spun to see Sam standing in the room.

“So am I, Sam. But you don’t see me going out reliving my glory days.”

The boy wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“That was not what I was doing by visiting those locations.” Cas protested.

“Sure it wasn’t. You just really thought that demons would take my son to locations that they haven’t gone to yet and that have no significance to anyone but you and Dean, right?”

“Since we have changed events, it was possible that they had moved into those areas earlier than expected.”

“And remind me how that worked out.”

“That is not the point.”

“A completely wasted day while my son is with Hell’s top torturer _is_ exactly the point!”

“What are you even talking about?” Sam questioned. 

“Nothing.” John responded. 

“What places are you talking about that Cas went to? And why would they mean something to Dean and Cas? And what are you talking about when you say the demons don’t know about them yet? Is something else going to happen?”

“It’s not important.” John reached up and massaged his forehead. It was all too damned much. He wished that Mary would hang up the phone and come take care of Sam so that he could finish yelling at Cas (even though he knew deep down that it wasn’t the angel that he was actually angry with) and then maybe he’d give in and put his head down for five minutes. 

“Dean’s missing and you guys are still trying to keep secrets from me?”

“Sam…”

“No! Just tell me what’s going on!”

“It’s nothing you need to know about.”

“So what? You’ll finally tell me at Dean’s funeral?”

“Shut up!” John screamed. “One more word comes out of your mouth and I swear…”

“What? What are you going to do? All I want is to help Dean!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do and I can’t even think with you whining for answers that you don’t need right now.”

“Dad, just think about…”

“No! Get to your room! NOW!”

Sam flinched, then spun and ran up the stairs.

“You didn’t need to yell at him, John.” He hung his head, but still had to resist the urge to snap at his wife, who had entered the room at some point in the last few seconds.

“He was pushing.”

“He’s just as worried as the rest of us.”

“Mary…”

“Just don’t, John. We have bigger things to worry about right now.”

“Please tell me we got a lead.”

“We have a lead.”

“Credible?”

“As hunters ever are. There are demon omens and they’re quite impressive.”

“Then we check it out. We rip Alastair to pieces and take Dean back.” All feelings of exhaustion, fear, and worry dropped away and John allowed his anger to fuel him. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on that demon. And he needed to get his son back.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

The pain was terrible but Dean forced himself to run anyways. He’d never gotten the chance to escape when he’d been in Hell, but this wasn’t Hell and they’d made the mistake of leaving him unguarded. The young hunter wasn’t sure why they’d unchained his hands and feet… maybe it was related to how they’d been torturing him before he’d passed out. His memory of that was slightly fuzzy. Never a good thing. But Dean was quite certain that he’d be reliving those sessions over and over in his nightmares for a long time to come, so the memories could stay gone for a while longer in his opinion. For now, the important thing was that he’d awoken unchained and unguarded.

So Dean had forced his bloody and broken body up and off the table and had promptly fallen to the ground. He’d reached up and used the very same thing that had held him down to be tortured to pull himself back up. Then he’d made his way slowly and painfully to the door. Once there, the hunter had paused. How much damage had been done to his body? Was this bizarre endless Hell torture room the only thing still keeping him alive? If he stepped through the doorway, would he collapse to the floor dead? In the end, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t stay here and wait to be taken apart further by Alastair. He’d rather die than be tortured until he broke (which would never happen, so the torment was destine to be eternal). Taking a deep breath, and trying to ignore the uncomfortable and unsettling rattle in his chest, Dean had stepped out of the room. And found that he was still alive. So he made the best of it and ran. Or limp-ran… a kind of strange almost skipping motion that made him appear drunk. Not that there was anyone around to see his weird-ass running. The halls were deserted. It was almost enough to make him believe that this was all some sort of elaborate trap (although why they’d need to trap him after they’d already had him captured and chained down to a table to be tortured was beyond him). 

But, possibility of a trap or not, Dean had to keep moving. So he ran. He ran until he felt as though he’d fall to the floor and never get up again. And then he kept running. The hunter tried to ignore the fact that he was leaving behind bloody footprints that would be easy for anyone to follow. Nothing he could do about that. When he got to a staircase leading down, he tried not to smirk. He’d known that the basement-like room hadn’t really been underground. The teen hung onto the railing to steady himself as he took the steps slowly. According to the number in the stairwell, he was on the fifth floor. Not too bad.

Once on the ground floor, Dean made his way to the stairwell door, then collapsed to his knees as the world spun around him. A combination of pain and blood loss for certain. But he’d keep going. He had to.

Dean crawled back over to the steps, gripped the railing and used it to pull himself back up. Once he was standing, he limped back to the door and made his way out into a hall. Right near the door was an emergency exit sign. Dean studied it for a moment before turning in the direction of the closest exit. The hunter could no longer even pretend to run, but he still kept going. He was going to make it.

But then he heard something that made him stop short. He swore that the blood in his veins even stopped flowing. It was screams. Screams of pain. And it was Sammy doing the screaming.

Dean found the strength to run again as he took off in the direction of the sound. His heart was beating wildly and he could taste the fear on his tongue. No. Not Sammy. They couldn’t have him…

Dean reached the door where the screams were coming from and threw it open, ready to kill anyone or anything that was hurting his brother. He’d rip them apart with his bare hands and then carry his brother out of here. No one was allowed to lay a hand on Sammy.

But the sight that greeted him was worse than anything he could ever have imagined. Sam was chained down just as he had been, naked from the waist up, and completely covered in blood. The boy was crying, but no tears could run down his face since his eyes were completely missing. Dean choked back a sob of his own.

“So nice of you to join us, Dean.” Alastair commented, from where he stood over the bloody mess of the child. 

“No…”

“Well, you were not being very forthcoming with information… so I thought maybe our other guest would be.”

“Sammy! Let him go, you feakin’ asshole!”

“Dean…” The boy on the table choked out.

“Now Dean, do you really think I’d just let him…”

That was as far as the monster got before Dean tackled him. But the move was pointless. Alastair was a powerful demon and Dean was a broken, weak, bloody teenager. The winner of the battle was never really in question. Alastair grabbed Dean by the neck, raised him up off of his feet, and plunged a knife into his ribs. Dean let out a strangled moan. Then he was dropped to the floor.

“Let… let… Sammy… go…” Dean gasped out.

“Well, since it appears that he knows nothing of value, I might just torture him until he dies...”

“No!”

“Unless, you were to tell me what I need to know. There are angels here working with us. They could easily heal your brother from all of these nasty wounds.”

“Dean… help… please…” Sam’s voice was terribly weak.

“I don’t have your answers.” Dean lied. “I’d tell you if could, just to stop this. But I can’t.”

“Then little brother dies painfully.”

“No!”

“It’s your own fault. You never should’ve left him with just a civilian to guard him.” Alastair made a ‘tsk tsk’ sound. “An angel easily smote the cop within in a second and then my demons dragged your precious brother back to me.”

Dean blinked. An angel _smote_ Anderson? That was impossible. Angel powers couldn’t touch the guy. But the angels and demons didn’t know that. Which meant that Alastair was lying. But why… His mind raced as he thought back on everything that had just happened and everything that had been said.

Dean groaned as he forced himself to his feet. “Enough! I don’t know which angel you are, but I damn well know that you’re not Alastair and I know that none of this is real. So get the Hell outta my head!” 

With that, he concentrated and forced the image of the tortured and bloody Sam to disappear from the room. He tried to make the room itself disappear as well, but a power was fighting against him. 

Alastair started to laugh, but it no longer sounded like him. Dean knew exactly which angel he was facing off against before the image of the demon morphed into the correct form. Zachariah. 

“So, what gave it away?”

He couldn’t exactly tell the full truth here without giving away Anderson’s secret, but he could give a partial answer. “Alastair would never give partial credit for Sam’s capture to the angels. You were practically bragging about killing the guy that was protecting Sam. A real demon would’ve claimed that his demons had done the full deed. So that got me thinking. I’d kind thought all along that my ‘escape’ was too easy. Then you went and were a dumbass and talked about angels being here. So I thought about it and figured that we were in my head and you were an angel. Not rocket science, douche-bag.”

Zachariah’s face darkened. “You can spew all the insults you want, but we will pull the answers we want from you.”

“By resorting to lame mind games? Not likely.”

“You didn’t get a good look at your face when you thought your brother was being taken apart piece by piece. And don’t think that we can’t make that a reality as well.”

Dean growled. “If you could, you would’ve. And if you do, you’re dead.”

Zachariah gave him a superior look. “You can’t touch us. But we… we will take you apart. Like the insect you really are. The demon will rip your body apart during your waking hour and I will dissect your mind when you fall unconscious. You will get no rest at all. You _will_ break, Dean Winchester. It is just a matter of time.”


	164. Never Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: More scenes of torture in this chapter.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Four: Never Break 

The demons were fighting them viciously and Castiel was wishing that Mary hadn’t gotten this ‘lead’. Not only was it a dead end at best and a set up at worst, but if they didn’t watch out, their group was going to suffer casualties. 

Two possessed men rushed at him wielding large blades. Castiel used his powers to hold them in place while he finished smiting the demon closest to him. Then he turned and skewered the two that had been planning to do much the same to him. The angel was about to turn to check on the Winchesters when he felt something cut into his back. He tightened his jaw against the pain. Things like this had never been an issue for most of his existence, but since he had his powers turned down (and some not even in use) so as not to be detected by the other angels, he found that he could get hurt a bit easier than usual. Luckily he was still tougher than the average human and healed a lot quicker, but it was still an inconvenience. Especially when he was battling a bunch of demons that were attempting to murder him and his friends and were brandishing wicked looking, very sharp blades. 

Castiel leapt forward and away from the demon that had cut him. He spun and swung his blade but the demon used its powers to deflect the blow. No matter. Castiel stepped forward, placed his hand on the possessed man’s forehead, and smote him. The dead body dropped to the floor. 

The angel heard John cry out and saw the man get flung into a wall and was pinned there. Castiel turned his head to locate the demon doing this, but before he could run to the hunter’s aid, Mary rushed into the room and shot two demons with the Colt. Her husband dropped to the carpet.

“John!” Mary called.

When the hunter looked up, Mary tossed the demon-killing knife to him. John raised his hand and smoothly caught the handle. He got to his feet and stepped forward to continue the battle. Castiel looked them both over. They had various cuts and bruises, but nothing too terrible. The demons were most likely toying with them or had orders to not kill them. In any event, there was actually a chance that they might survive this. 

After stabbing and slicing five more demons and smiting three others, Castiel turned to see that there was only one left. And it was pinned on the ground under John’s foot; the hunter crouched down with the knife rammed into the possessed man’s shoulder and Mary standing by his side with the Colt pointed at the demon’s head.

“Now,” John growled out. “I want answers. Where is Dean?”

The demon laughed. “You really think _I_ know?”

“Yes. And I think you’ll tell me if you don’t want to die slowly and painfully.”

The thing laughed again. “Right… you’ll kill me either way.”

John turned the knife slowly, making the demon grunt in pain. “True, but how much you suffer beforehand is up to you.”

“Those are probably the same exact words that Alastair is saying to your brat right now. “ The demon mocked.

John extracted the blade only to plunge it back into the opposite shoulder. The demon cried out. “Where is my son?!”

“I don’t know!” The demon shot back. “We were told to just come here and have some fun.”

“Why?” Mary asked. “As a distraction?”

The demon glared at her. She shot it in the foot. The demon screamed as lightening jumped from the wound. Castiel was certain that the demon would’ve left its host long ago if it could’ve but the Winchesters had probably spoken the incantation to lock it inside the body. 

“Yes! And because we’re celebrating. The apocalypse is coming. It’s starting now, you morons, and you can’t stop it! You think that a few mere humans can stand in the way of the end of the world?” He scoffed. “You have to be kidding. No. Alastair is taking your kid apart right now to get the final piece on how to raise Lucifer and we are paving the way for his paradise!”

“So you know nothing.” Castiel stated.

“I know that you will fail and that we will win! I know that the world will bleed and…”

Castiel stabbed him in the heart, killing him in a second. 

“Why did you do that?” John snapped. “We needed more information.”

“Yes we do. But he had none.”

“He could’ve been lying.”

“He was not.”

Mary shook her head. “But if he was being truthful and they really are paving the way for an apocalypse, we can’t trust omens to track Alastair. Not if there will be a bunch of other demons out there.”

“Not completely, no. But maybe if we track and study them we’ll be able to discern what is normal demon activities and what could be Alastair.”

“Dean might not have that kind of time.” John protested.

“Alastair won’t kill him.”

“No… just torture him.” Mary countered. “And I don’t want him to suffer through that.”

“Then we need to do what we can to make certain that we don’t expire following up on any other false leads.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean was certain that he was awake again. When he was asleep he felt like he could reach out with his mind and possibly change the scenery, even when Zachariah blocked him from actually doing so. But now, as he was lying face down on the table, hands and feet chained tightly, he knew that he was powerless. 

The razor whip bit into his back again and again. Dean cried out, the idea of keeping silent long ago abandoned. But he had promised himself two things. He would never beg. And he would _never_ break. 

Dean closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain and torment that his body was being put through. It was like Hell all over again. It really was. When he was awake his body was being cut, beaten, and he was certain that it would take no time at all for the demon to resort to burning. Then when his physical form gave out and he fell unconscious, his mind would be tormented by Zachariah; so he’d be put through all the weird kinds of crap he’d faced down in the pit as well. 

But it wouldn’t last for decades. Dean was smart enough to realize this. First off, Alastair might be patient enough to take him apart for that long (hell, he’d probably enjoy that), but Zach didn’t have that kind of tolerance. And the other thing was that Hell and Heaven were on a schedule. Also, Dean was certain that his family would come for him. He just had to hold on until they got there.

He’d thought about praying for help, but that wasn’t an option. If he prayed to Cas, the other Castiel (the one from this time that was up in Heaven and didn’t know that his future self had come back and was screwing with the timeline) would also hear the prayer and _that_ was not really part of the plan. Dean could pray to Gabriel, and he’d contemplated it even though he knew that the archangel wouldn’t be able to find him with the symbols that were carved into his ribs and Dean had no clue where he was, just so that he could let the Gabe know what was going on and maybe open a line of dialogue. But then he’d seen the symbols on the walls and knew that it would be pointless. If he was recalling them correctly, no angels on the outside of the room would be able to sense him or teleport in. He’d drawn those symbols himself for protection in his own home. Cas and Gabe had a charm to negate them, but it was specific to their house symbol and this looked slightly altered.

The excruciating pain of being thrown onto the floor on his torn up back snapped him out of his thoughts. Damn… he hadn’t even realized that the chains had been released. 

“So, Dean… you feeling any more talkative now?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Sure. What d’ya wanna… talk about? How you’re… gonna lose in the… end? Or how I’m… gonna be… the one to… stab you in the face?”

Alastair chuckled. “Oh, Dean. You play so bravely. And you like to think that you’re strong. But I’m just getting started and you are just a child for me to take apart.”

“Do your worst.” Dean spit at him. “You’ll still lose.”

“And why is that?” The torturer seemed amused.

“Because you already lost. I’m stronger than you can ever hope to be. You’re nothing but a twisted broken soul that pathetically enough actually enjoys being twisted and broken. Me? I’m _never_ going to break. Not by your pathetic hands. And certainly not by the dirty hands of those winged dicks.” Dean narrowed his eyes. His chest was burning with the effort of getting through that entire speech, but gasping it out or choking during it would’ve ruined the effect. “So in the end, you’ll be dead on the ground and I’ll be victoriously standing over your ruined corpse. With a smile on my face.”

Alastair started to smirk but something must’ve stopped him. Dean wasn’t sure if it was the way he’d said the words or the expression on his face, but the demon studied him closely. “You are much more than I could ever have imagined. And that is truly one of the reasons I will enjoy it when you _do_ break.”

“Still not gonna happen.”

“It always does.”

“Not this time.”

Alastair turned to stroll over to one of the walls to select a new piece of torture equipment. Dean propped himself up on his elbows and one working leg and half-crawled/half-dragged himself over to the cart that had been wheeled close to ‘his’ table. With all the strength he could muster, the hunter dragged himself up (holding on to the table and not the less stable cart) and stood on unsteady, bleeding legs. He reached down and snatched up a large, wicked looking blade. It wouldn’t kill Alastair, but maybe he could incapacitate the demon long enough to get away. Long shot, but Dean had to take it. Looking at the knife in his hand, he thought it kind of ironic. In his original timeline, Alastair had spent three decades trying to convince him to pick up a blade, and now he’d done it of his own free will, but for a completely different reason. Defiance instead of giving in. 

He hid the weapon behind him as his tormentor turned and stalked towards him with an archaic tool that made Dean shudder when he remembered the agony the freakin’ thing caused. But he stood his ground as Alastair approached.

“You think standing up is going to prove something? Oh, Dean… it just makes it easier to get you back in your proper place.”

Once the hated demon was close enough, Dean lashed out with the knife and, catching Alastair completely by surprise, plunged the blade deep into the son of a bitch’s left eye. Dean’s momentum drove them both to the ground, the hunter lying on top of the demon. He pulled the blade out, only to stab it back down and into the other eye. Then he went for other parts of the face, throat, and chest. Afterwards, Dean scrambled off of Alastair and crawled to the door, using the doorway to pull himself up.

But then, before he could make his escape, he was grabbed by an invisible force and thrown back across the room. Dean screamed in pure agony as his shredded back connected with the wall and the torture equipment that hung on it with inhuman strength. He found himself pinned there with his feet dangling inches above the floor. The hunter let out a moan.

“Did you really think that’d work?” Alastair asked around a mouthful of blood. The voice was barely audible as more blood was spilling from his ruined throat. 

“Had… to… try.”

“And you’ll pay for it.”

“Was gonna… be… tortured anyhow. Not seeing… a downside to… hurting… your ugly-ass… face.”

“Really?” The body of Dean’s geometry teacher dropped to the floor, dead. 

Dean fell to the floor right after. He no longer had the strength to get up. Instead, the teenager lay there, wanting to curl in on himself, but not being able to because of the multiple injuries on his back. 

The hunter had no clue how long he was lying on the ground before someone stepped into the room. He’d never seen the dude before, but he knew before the eyes ever rolled back to become white that it was just another Alastair-suit. 

“So, you were telling me that there would be no punishment for attacking me?”

Dean worked hard to shrug. He turned his head to ignore his torturer. Then he felt something soaking through the bottom portion of his left pant-leg. As realization dawned on him, he heard a lighter flick open and then felt excruciating pain as he caught fire. Damn! 

Dean started to kick at the flames with his other leg and tried to smother them, but it was no use. The pain was unbearable. Dean heard himself making all sorts of pained noises but couldn’t stop himself. He was lost in the agony. That was until Alastair opened his mouth.

“So Dean, what is your opinion now? You beginning to think you might break?”

“ _Never_.”


	165. Hold On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The story does not get any brighter yet...

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Five: Hold On 

“It’s been two weeks, John. You have to go back to work, or you’re not going to have a job to go back to.”

“Screw the job!” John snapped at her. “Our son is missing and you’re worried about money?”

Mary closed her eyes and counted to ten. Losing her temper too wasn’t going to help the situation. 

“You know damned well that that’s not what I’m saying. But what will Dean think when we get him back and he finds out that you’ve become _that_ John? The one so consumed with revenge and hunting that you no longer have a life outside of it? You don’t even see how close to being _him_ you are sometimes. I mean, you’re already snapping at everyone and pushing your youngest son away. Do you really think that this is what Dean wants?”

John looked like he’d been punched right in the face. “I just want Dean back. And each day that that monster has him…”

“I know. I feel the same. But we can’t let this tear our family apart.”

“It already has, Mary!” John yelled. “You think our family looks whole right now?”

Mary sighed. “No. But it will. We’ll get him back.”

“Yeah? In how many pieces?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted with tears in her eyes. “God, John… I just… I don’t know. But that’s why we need to stay as strong as we can and to not fall apart. And not fight amongst ourselves. Because Dean might need us to help put him back together. And I want us to be able to be there for him.” Mary became aware that the tears were running down her face, but she couldn’t stop them. There were just too many emotions that she’d tried to ignore since her son had been taken from her. 

Then John was holding her, his anger dissipated for the moment. It’d be back, Mary knew. But it was a good sign that he was still capable of pushing it away if the need arose.

“I’m sorry, Mary. You’re right. I’m not trying to be like that. I’m not trying to be like _him_. I swear I’m not. It’s just that… I want him back. More than anything in the world right now, I want Dean back. But you’re right. If we get him back and our family is too broken to piece him back together, then this’ll all be for nothing.”

“We’re going to make it through this, right?” Mary asked.

“Of course.” John nodded, his chin bumping against the top of her head. “We can make it through anything.”

Mary pulled back, wiping her tears away. “I’m scared, John. We’ve had no leads. Nothing. Castiel hasn’t found anything, Ellen says nobody has news, Bobby has nothing on the omen front, and Gabriel hasn’t even bothered to check in since he fluttered off. Well, except apparently to drop in on Castiel to teach him how to smite demons without attracting attention to himself. But would it kill him to stop by to let us know about Dean?”

“He’s a strange one.” John muttered. “But Mary, just because we haven’t heard anything yet, doesn’t mean that word’s not coming. Hell, that phone might ring right now with good news.”

There was a beat where both parents stopped and just stared at it, as if expecting the device to do just that. When it stayed silent, Mary felt like crying all over again. When would their luck turn around?

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam sat on Dean’s bed, holding the framed photo that they’d had taken just last month. They had gone to an amusement park on the weekend and Sam had convinced Dean to get their photo taken standing in front of the loop coaster that _Dean_ had convinced _Sam_ to ride. It had been one of the most frightening experiences of his young life (and yes, that was even compared to facing down demons and angels and the whole Gordon/vampire thing) so Sam thought that he should get some sort of memento out of the deal. In the photo, Dean was grinning and had his arm down around Sam’s shoulders, hugging the smaller boy close to his side. Sam was also grinning (his smile looking a bit dorky compared to Dean’s) and was holding the stuffed dog that his older brother had won for him at the dart-throwing game. When their mom had gone to develop the film, Sam had begged her to get doubles, so that both he and Dean could get a copy. Now they both had that same picture on their nightstand.

Looking at it now, Sam was reminded of another photo he’d seen in Dean’s room. It was the one in the journal that he wasn’t allowed to look in. The photo of the two guys that Sam didn’t know, but must be related to them somehow. He couldn’t quite remember what the picture looked like, as he hadn’t seen it in a while and was tempted to take it out to see why it was nagging at the back of his mind. Hell, he was tempted to say _screw it_ and just read the journal and see what everyone was keeping from him. Because he was certain that all the answers were in there. And he might’ve done either one of those things, or even both, if he’d been alone in the room. But he wasn’t.

“It’s not fair. Dean’s gone and no one can help get him back. And _I_ can’t help ‘cause no one will let me know what’s going on! There’s this big secret that shouldn’t be more important than my brother’s life, but still Dad screams at me if I ask what’s going on. This just sucks.”

Emily stopped pacing and sat down next to him. “Maybe they’re not telling you because it’s not their secret to tell?”

“Don’t defend them!” Sam snapped. Then he realized that he was yelling just like his dad had been constantly doing. Great. That wasn’t what he wanted. But he was just so frustrated.

“I’m not. Personally, I think that they should tell you if it would help your brother. Do _you_ think that knowing his secret would allow you to help?”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know.” He answered truthfully. “But Dean always told me that I was good at figuring stuff out, so maybe I could help find him if I knew more details. I don’t know. I hate being useless.”

“I know the feeling.” The girl agreed. She looked down at him and then spoke again. “So, I get that you’re mad at your parents for not telling you Dean’s secrets, but are you mad at _Dean_ too?”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I got upset at him when I’d ask him and he wouldn’t tell me stuff, but he… he got really emotional about the whole thing. He said things about not wanting stuff to change between us and he seemed to think that he’d lose me or something if I knew the truth.”

Emily was nodding. “That makes sense.”

Sam practically pounced at her. “What? _You_ know too? He told you?”

“No. But years ago, after the whole Lilith/Halloween incident, I met up with him at the playground one night and he was all messed up about your parents overhearing some stuff about his destiny that he didn’t even want them to know about.”

“Wait, you mean my parents didn’t know stuff about Dean that he knew? And how did he know about his destiny? What _is_ his destiny? ”

Emily shrugged. “He never said. He let some stuff slip and I always figured that maybe he saw his own future or experienced it a dream somehow or something. But I don’t know much about it. Just that there are things that he keeps from everyone because he’s ashamed of it and terribly afraid that no one will love him anymore if they discover the truth.”

“But I’d never…”

“Sam,” She interrupted. “I like to think of Dean as my best friend and he’s one of the most important people in my life. God, I don’t even know what I’m going to do if he…” Emily took a deep breath before continuing. “But to Dean, the entire world revolves around _you_. You should hear the way he talks about you. ‘Sammy made honor roll again last semester’, ‘Sammy scored a goal in soccer’, ‘Sammy’s aim is awesome out on our firing range’. It’s really cute, actually.” She smiled. “He’s so damned proud of everything you do and it would kill him if you found out something about him and he lost your respect.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” Sam insisted. “I love Dean. More than anything. He’s always been there for me. From small crap like helping me with homework and playing with me to saving me when I was kidnapped by a crazy guy and then almost eaten by a vampire. Mom and Dad are great, they’re wonderful parents, but Dean… he’s just… Dean.” Sam shrugged, not sure how to explain how Dean always seemed to know how to make Sam feel better, safer, happier. 

“Yeah, there’s no perfect word to describe Dean, huh?”

“Not really.” Sam forced a smile. “I need him back.”

“Your parents are working hard to find him. And they have a lot of allies, right?”

“Yeah. Some powerful ones too.” Sam thought about Cas and Gabriel. “But Dean seems to have really powerful enemies. I just hope that we’re all enough.”

Emily reached out and pulled him into a comforting hug. “Trust me, Sam. From what Dean has said, you’ll always be enough.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

There was a trick to dealing with the agony that Dean had to face every minute of his existence since the moment he’d been taken from outside his high school graduation. The trick was simple. Try to focus on anything but the pain. That didn’t mean that he didn’t feel Alastair’s hand work its way into the slice in his chest, push and tear its way past the muscles, grab onto his rib, and snap the bone. And it didn’t stop him from screaming so loudly that his throat was raw and painful. But it did help keep Dean sane in his new world that could’ve quickly driven him nuts. 

There were places that he kept his mind away from, though. The hunter didn’t allow himself to even begin to think of any of the crap that he was keeping secret from Heaven and Hell. There was just too great a chance he’d slip up and say something he shouldn’t. Or that it would then worm its way into his dreamscape when he fell unconscious. 

So instead, Dean concentrated on every pleasant memory he could. His fifth birthday, when his parents had taken him to the aquarium. Sammy’s first steps. Playing little league with his dad. Taking Sammy to the playground. Baking pies with his mom. Spending time at Bobby’s house. Teaching Cas how to play video games. Hanging out at the Roadhouse. Hunting with his family. Driving his baby down the street with the music blaring and the windows rolled down. Teaching Sammy to fire a gun. Goofing off after school with Emily. Going to the amusement park with his family. Graduating high school. 

The teenager played those ‘greatest hits’ in his head over and over again, trying his best to pretend that he was back in those moments again, rather than where he was, being taken apart by a monster. And he knew, deep down, that his family was going to rescue him and then he’d be able to add even more to that list of great moments. Dean just hoped that they hurried because it was getting so very hard to hold on.


	166. Location and Escape

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Six: Location and Escape 

It was just after two in the morning when Scott Anderson parked his car in front of the Winchesters’ house. He was beginning to regret not stopping somewhere for a cup of coffee, but figured that if he was waking John and Mary up this early, they’d probably put on a pot of liquid caffeine anyways. He’d stayed alert enough to make it all the way here with out crashing his car though, so that was the important thing. Thank God that he’d been off his pain meds for a few days. Those had completely screwed with his concentration, and there was no way that Scott would’ve been able to have safely driven a vehicle half-awake _and_ drugged up. 

The policeman got out of his car and closed the door. He quickly made his way through the front gate, well aware that every moment outside was a moment that he was in danger. Sure, he kind of doubted that he was actually a target, but if anything was watching the Winchester house and saw him, his life might be over in a second. And he couldn’t die. Not now. Well, he didn’t really want to die at all, but certainly not without telling the information he now knew to Dean’s parents. And then, well, chances were he’d be signing on to help out with whatever rescue efforts were going to be made and that’s when he’d have to worry about his own death yet again. Because somehow helping the Winchesters and almost dying just seemed to go hand in hand. But he figured that so long as he kept ‘almost’ before the ‘dying’ he wouldn’t be _that_ bad off.

As Scott approached the door, he slowed down, worried that maybe there’d be some sort of booby-trap or something rigged to go off if anyone got too close. All he could picture was ringing the doorbell only to have his head blown off by an unseen shotgun. No. That was dumb. The Winchesters were careful but they were living in a normal neighborhood and thus would have people come to their door that they didn’t want to dispose of. So, devil’s traps and stuff like that would definitely be in use but probably nothing that would kill unsuspecting civilians. 

The young cop rang the doorbell and waited. He didn’t have to wait very long. It seemed like only a moment later the door was swung open and a gun was shoved in his face. It was at that second that it occurred to him that he really should’ve called ahead.

“Don’t shoot! It’s me. Anderson.”

“The hell you doing at our door at too early o’clock in the freakin’ morning?” John growled.

“I know where Dean is.” Scott decided that getting straight to the point would probably be the best route to keeping himself alive at that moment.

The gun lowered. “What? Where? How?”

“I’ll answer everything; any questions I can. But can I please come in?”

“What? Oh, yeah… sure.” 

The older man grabbed him by the upper arm and practically dragged him into the house. Scott didn’t protest, though. If he was a father and his son had been abducted by demons and had been missing without a trace for three weeks, he’d be pretty desperate too. 

He was ushered into the living room and pretty much shoved onto the couch.

“John, what’s going on?” Mary came into the room, pulling her robe around herself tightly. “Anderson? What are you doing here?”

“He knows where Dean is.”

Any trace of tiredness left the woman’s face. “What? Where is he? How did you find him? Is he okay?”

“You know where Dean is?” Sam asked, entering the room. Cas was with him. And it just wasn’t fair that everyone seemed to be far more alert than Scott himself felt.

“Yes. And I’ll tell you guys everything. I promise. But uh… is there anyway I can get a cup of coffee?”

Mary nodded quickly. “Certainly. I’ll put it on.”

Sam hurried to the couch and sat down next to him. “Are you feeling better?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, it wasn’t that bad. Just a few cuts. The doctors patched me up, no problem.” Sure, he was downplaying it a bit, but since he walked away from the experience with no permanent damage this time and only an overnight stay in the hospital, he figured that his description was pretty accurate. 

“Good. I’m glad. That whole day was awful. And I just… I keep thinking that maybe there was something I could’ve done to help. But I just stood there as you almost died and Dean was taken and…”

“Whoa,” Scott put his hand up to stop the kid. “That’s not how I remember things. First off, no one could’ve gotten to your brother in time. Not your fault. And you didn’t ‘just stand there’. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. Those demons would’ve ripped me open and bled me dry. But you got that angel to use its powers so that I could take them and stop those demons. You saved my life and stopped them from being able to take you as well. That was a brilliant plan.”

Sam smiled. “Well, you’re pretty awesome to have in a fight.”

“Then let’s just say that we made a pretty great team and leave it at that, okay?”

“Okay. But I still wish I’d been able to get to Dean.”

“Me too.”

“Then why don’t we discuss how to get to him now?” Mary asked as she reentered the room, a tray filled with coffee mugs in her hands.

Scott nodded as he reached forward to accept a cup. He took a large gulp of the hot liquid before he started to talk. “Okay, I have marked on a map the exact location of where your son is being held.”

“How did you get this information?” John demanded.

Scott licked his lips, a nervous habit he’d had ever since early childhood. He knew that the Winchesters weren’t going to be thrilled with his response. “Michael told me.”

“Michael?” John questioned. “As in, archangel Michael?”

“Do you know any other Michaels that would know Dean’s location?” Scott asked, immediately regretting his flippant tone when the older man’s face darkened. 

“He contacted you?” Mary wanted to know. 

“Yeah. Tonight. He came to me and told me that he’d found Dean. He apparently is aware that some of the angels have gone behind his back and are working with the demons to try and start the apocalypse. He sent some of his most trusted angels to try and locate your son and even searched himself. Dean was located in an abandoned factory in Pershing, Nevada.” Scott went to reach for the map that he had folded up and shoved into his pocket but was interrupted when John started speaking.

“And you _trust_ this information?”

“Yeah.” Scott replied. “Michael was being truthful. He seemed… distressed at the whole situation and…”

“ _Distressed?_ ” John laughed. “Yeah, right. If he was so _distressed_ why didn’t he rescue our son himself? After all, he’s the big powerful archangel.”

“Because he can’t.” Scott replied.

“Can’t or won’t.”

“Can’t. Apparently the place is heavily warded. Michael himself was the only one that could even sense Dean in there and that’s only due to their connection.” John snorted at that, but Scott ignored it and continued talking. “But even he can’t get in. And if he could, he doesn’t have a host so his presence could harm Dean anyways. Other angels can enter, but only by walking through the doors. There are sigils in place that stop them from teleporting in or using their powers through the barriers. Also, Michael says he can’t send any angels in to fight because if he does it could spark a civil war in Heaven. And a civil war with two archangels leading the armies could cost the lives of thousands of people if the fighting spills down to earth.”

“Uh huh. Right. Sounds like a load of bullcrap to me.”

Scott shook his head. “He was telling the truth.”

John grabbed the policeman by his shirt and dragged him to his feet. Startled, Scott dropped the coffee he’d been holding and the hot liquid spilled all down his front. He ignored the slight pain as his stomach and legs were burned.

“What the hell? Whose side are you on? Why do you keep defending the angels who are tearing our family apart?”

Scott resisted the urge to fight back physically. The man in front of him was grief-stricken and angry and any action taken against him would surely escalate the level of violence. 

“The only ones I’ve ever defended in this have been your family.” Scott reminded him. “So, that should tell you that I’m on your side. But it just so happens that so is Michael. And if punching me for saying that will make you feel better, then have at it. But it won’t change the facts.”

“John, let him go.” Mary spoke up. “He’s a friend and came here to help.”

There was a moment where Scott wasn’t sure if the hunter would release his hold or actually go ahead and punch the cop in the face. Then he was let go with a rough push. 

“Fine.” John conceded.

“You understand why it’s hard for us to take Michael’s word on this, right?” Mary questioned. 

Scott nodded. “But if you can’t take _his_ word, take _mine_. I can read the angels’ intentions, remember? He’s telling the truth.” 

“Then show us the map. Show us where our son is.” Mary ordered.

Scott pulled out the map, unfolded it, and spread it out on the coffee table. “There. That’s where he’s being kept.”

“Cas, can you get us there?” John asked.

“Yes, that should…”

“No.” Scott interrupted. 

“Why not?” John looked like he was regretting not punching the younger man earlier. 

“Because there are dozens of demons, and maybe as many angels there as well.”

“We need to do recon.” Mary suggested. 

“Already being done.” Scott responded. “Michael had me call in Gabriel and send him there. He should be here soon with the information.”

Mary nodded. “Then we need to start putting together our own team to take on Heaven and Hell’s team. You in?”

Scott nodded. “Definitely.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean ran as fast as he could. He could do this. He had to. The hunter knew that actual escape was impossible, but this… this was something that he could do. Thanks to Cas, Dean could escape from the torture and protect his secrets from his enemies. And he had to do it now or all would be lost. Because as strong as he was trying to be while Alastair was cutting, slicing, burning, and all the other crap that Dean did _not_ want to be thinking about, the young hunter was afraid that he was going to let something slip by accident. Because unlike in Hell, he had a physical body and would sometimes become a bit delirious. And then there were the times like now when he’d be unconscious and trapped in his own mind with Zachariah. The angel would torment him with images of Dean’s family being tortured, or his loves ones torturing him (and Dean had a sneaking suspicion that Alastair had suggested these scenarios to Zach because Dean had already been through this crap back in Hell) but while all that was going on, the teenager could feel Zachariah poking at his mind, trying to see into his memories. So Dean had plotted and planned and conserved his mental strength until this moment and now it was time to act. 

So as soon as he’d fallen unconscious, he’d used all the tricks that Cas had spent the past almost twelve years teaching him about how to control the crap that went on in his own mind. Dean pushed hard at all the nightmarish stuff that Zachariah had conjured up and the scene wavered and dissipated. The angel stood gaping like the moron he was, while Dean smirked at him. Then the young hunter imagined a cage around the douche-bag and it appeared. Knowing that it would only last moments before Zach managed to break free, Dean had turned and ran. He needed to put some space between them. He needed to get somewhere safe.

This was _his_ mind. He was in the dream portions of it, the uppermost area where he and Cas had spent their time hanging out every night for years. He normally had great control here, but Zachariah had stolen that from him. Now he had to use all his strength and will power to do the smallest acts. He couldn’t stay here long or he’d lose against his opponent.

But there were other places in his mind. The places that Cas had taught him to shove his memories into when they’d escape and seep into his sleep world. And that was where he was trying to escape to now. Because as awful as some of his memories were, he could deal with them if they’d get him away from what was going on in the real world. Besides, he had good memories too. He’d just have to try and stay in them. If that was even possible. If any of this plan was even possible… No, it had to be. 

And then he reached it. There was no barrier or sign saying ‘Welcome to Dean Winchester’s memories. Enter at your own risk.’. But Dean felt it all the same. He was at that deep invisible chasm where he had been taught by his angel to shove all his awful memories away so that he could sleep well and enjoy his nights. This was it.

“Did you think that you could outrun me?” Zachariah mocked.

Dean turned to face him. “Yeah, asshat. I did. And I have. Have fun explaining to Alastair that you lost me.” With that, the hunter stepped back and allowed himself to fall. He figured that to the angel, he would have seemed to have just vanished.

As he fell, Dean concentrated hard and imagined a large mental door slamming shut on his memories, locking off any angels. Zach hadn’t been able to get in yet, but Dean was making certain that his secrets (and he himself) would be safe.

When he hit the ground, Dean wasn’t sure what to expect. Hell maybe; since those were the memories that constantly plagued him. But instead, he rose to find himself an adult again and standing next to a full grown Sam. It was weird, yet kind of nice to see that version of his brother yet again. 

“Alright, it’s time for plan B. We’re getting on that plane.” Sam declared. 

“What?” Dean asked, looking around. Yep, they were in an airport. 

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers onboard, and if we’re right, that plane is gonna crash.”

Dean nodded as he remembered what had been going on in this particular moment.

Sam continued. “Well, okay. We need to get on that plane. We need to find that demon and exorcise it. Look, I’ll get the tickets and you just go get whatever you can from the trunk, whatever will get past security, and meet me back here in five minutes.” There was a brief pause. “You okay?”

“Awesome, Sammy.” Dean grinned.

“What? What’s wrong?” Sam asked, as if Dean had said the same stuff he originally had. Seemed like nothing Dean said would alter the memory.

“Nothing’s wrong at all. And it’s cool to see you again. It really is. But I’m gonna leave this show before I have to get on that damned plane. Have fun, Sammy.” Dean turned and started walking away from the memory. 

As he walked, he heard Sam say “Flying?” and then “You’re joking, right?”

Dean wondered if he’d have to go through some kind of door or something or maybe touch something special to get to the next memory, but as he walked through the airport, he felt a strange sensation similar to when he’d first encountered his own memories and he knew that he was at the barrier. So he stepped through.

And found himself at a much smaller size. He looked down at his body and guessed that he was around seven or eight. And judging by his surroundings, he was in his memories of the original timeline. Dean hadn’t spent any time in crappy motel rooms during his childhood this time around. 

As he was trying to figure out what this particular memory was, his shoulder was grabbed and the boy was spun around. 

“Damn it, Dean! What the hell were you thinking? Leaving the stove on!”

Dean glanced over and saw that, sure enough, water was boiling over a pot and running all over. An open box of store brand spaghetti lay abandoned nearby. Dean turned his attention to the man that had screamed at him. His dad. The old version. While he’d felt nostalgic and warm at seeing the other version of his brother, this man brought back no happy feelings. Especially not with the anger that was currently written all over the guy’s face. Dean wondered briefly why he’d spent years defending the man. He now knew what a terrific father his dad could’ve been and this man just hadn’t cut it. Too much anger and vengeance had left little room for the kind of stuff a real dad needed.

“I give you one job. One! Take care of Sammy. And what do you do? Try and burn down our freakin’ motel room!”

“Back the hell off.” Dean jerked away from his dad. In the original timeline he’d apologized and stammered out an excuse about how Sammy hadn’t felt well and he’d left the kitchenette to check on the smaller boy. 

“I don’t want to hear it, Dean. And I can’t be made late to this hunt cleaning up your messes. So, you fix this and make something for your brother to eat. And do it right this time. Got it?”

“Maybe you should’ve cooked for once, _sir_.” Dean shot back, instead of the ‘yes, sir’ he’d originally given. He watched the other timeline version of his father grab his jacket and leave the motel room.

“Did you get in trouble ‘cause of me?” Sammy’s voice asked from behind him.

Dean turned around to face the four year old. “Nah, Dad just got upset ‘cause I wasn’t watchin’ the stove.”

“Watch’cha cooking?”

“Spaghetti.” Dean replied, grinning as he remembered what came next.

Sure enough, Sammy made a face. “I don’t want paskettis.”

“What do you want, kiddo?” He said with much less exasperation than the first time around.

“A sandwich. Peanut butter and raisin.” Yep, he’d been going through a weird phase then.

Dean smiled. “Sure. Just let me clean this up first.”

“But Deeeeeeaaaaan, I’m hungry now!”

Dean rolled his eyes, much the same way he had years and years before. But that cute little guy had always won out. “Fine. I’ll turn the stove off, get you your food, _then_ clean up. Okay?”

Sammy threw his arms around Dean and hugged him tight. “You’re the best!”

Dean held him back. “Love you, Sammy.” He whispered. 

He could’ve stayed there a while more, but he wasn’t sure how long the memory would last, or when it would start to play again from the beginning (he somehow knew it would eventually) and he didn’t want to be there for that. So, after making Sammy his sandwich (he _had_ promised, after all) Dean walked out of the motel room and into the next memory.


	167. Ready

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Seven: Ready 

The hunters were gathering in the Roadhouse once again. It was just taking too damned long for everyone to get there. John was pacing relentlessly, the nap he’d taken in the back earlier had left him feeling a bit more energized but he had nothing to do with that energy but worry. He’d seen the sketch that Gabriel had brought back of the factory where Dean was being held and it was massive. And if the guesstimate about how many demons and angels they’d have to face was at all accurate, this was _not_ going to be easy. Not even with all the hunters, weapons, and the two angels that they were bringing to the fight. 

John looked over to the bar. He saw Sam sitting chatting with Anderson (who had also slept since arriving here) and he felt a quick flash of guilt. He really shouldn’t have let his anger get the best of him back at the house. He replayed the scene over in his mind; saw himself grab the young cop rather roughly, causing Anderson to spill the hot coffee all over himself, and he knew that he’d been just seconds from punching the guy if he’d said the ‘wrong’ thing. Hell, if John was being completely honest with himself, he’d been kind of hoping for a reason to let loose and let out some aggression. But Anderson had been right. The only people that the cop had ever defended were the Winchesters and he’d put his life on the line to do so. So, if Anderson was saying that the intel could be trusted, John should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt rather than resorting to physical violence. What was that they said about hind-sight? Oh yeah… it was worth crap. Perhaps the right thing to do at this point was to apologize, but John figured he’d leave it for now. Anderson was busy, and so was he. 

“You sure we’re gonna have enough people?” Bobby asked.

“We probably won’t.” He responded. “But really, what can we do. We’ve contacted everyone we can trust who can fight. Plus we have Gabriel signed on too.” John shrugged. “Not the best, but it’s all we have.”

“Did Michael tell ya where exactly in that building Dean was bein’ kept?”

“Why don’t you ask his pen-pal, Anderson?” John shot back, before realizing that his response was a bit hostile towards the man that he was just thinking that that he shouldn’t have been hostile towards.

The cop lifted his head, obviously hearing his name. Possibly hearing more than that. Yeah… maybe an apology was going to be needed at some point.

“What’s up?”

Luckily, Bobby took lead on the questioning. “Were ya told exactly where Dean was bein’ kept in here?” He gestured to the rough drawing that Gabriel had done of the building when he’d gone to do recon.

“No.” Anderson shook his head as he got up and walked over to join them. “First off, the whole place is warded, and second, Dean has those protection symbols on his ribs. There’s no way to track him.”

“Then how did the angels find him there?” Bill Harvelle asked.

“Uh, they tracked demon activity and, more importantly, other angels. Ones they suspected of being traitors.”

“But they’re sure that Dean is there?” Ellen wanted to know.

Anderson nodded. “Yeah. Michael sensed him there. He can do that once he knew exactly where to look.”

“How?” Pastor Jim asked. “You just said that the angels couldn’t track him.”

“Yeah… well, Michael’s a bit different. Once he knew where to look, it was possible to confirm that Dean was there. Just not what room exactly.”

John let out a breath he didn’t realize that he’d been holding. They hadn’t told Anderson not to mention the whole Michael/Dean vessel connection (which, according to the policeman was how he’d been able to sense Dean in the building), but the cop must’ve figured out that it was a secret. One less thing to worry about.

“What _do_ we know?” John asked.

“That if we don’t do this right, we all better buy fireproof underwear, ‘cause the world’s gonna burn.” Gabriel interjected. “This is definitely the opening notes of the apocalypse song.”

“The apocalypse?” Caleb questioned as he stepped in the front door.

“Yeah, try to keep up with the rest of the class, please.” The archangel shot back. “That many angels and demons don’t need to gather just to watch one Winchester be tortured. Alastair and Zach, sure. And a couple flunkies from both sides as guards. But this… this just screams ‘Big show coming. Buy your tickets in advance.’ And if we have any hope of stopping it, we need to take out both big players.”

Mary took the opportunity to interrupt. “But you told us back at our house that Zachariah was almost certainly working under the orders of Raphael. That he’d need the backing of an archangel.”

Gabriel nodded. “Sure. But Raph is way too smart to put his name on the movie posters. If things go downhill, he has plausible deniability.”

“So the real asshole will get away.” John growled out.

“But two other real assholes get toasted, the apocalypse is averted, and your son is saved.” The archangel shrugged. “Sounds like a better than average day to me.”

“The real question is _how_ we do this?” Ellen brought up.

“We should save the plannin’ until everyone arrives.” Bobby commented.

John looked around. “Well, we’re just waiting on Rufus. And Missouri, since she’ll be watching the kids.”

“ _Kid_.” Sam corrected. “She’ll just need to watch Jo because I’m coming with you guys.”

“No.”

“Dad, just listen to me!”

“Whatever you’re going to say doesn’t matter because the answer will still be no.”

Sam narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. He balled up his fists in frustration. “Dad, I’m going. Dean is in trouble and he needs all the help he can get. He’s been training me and I know all the exorcisms forwards and back. I know how to banish angels. Even Anderson said that I was smart in a fight. And I just… something is telling me that I need to be there. Dean needs me.”

“Sam, it’s not safe. This is going to be…” Mary started to say.

“It won’t be any safer here if you leave me behind! The demons tried to grab me. Who says they won’t try again while you’re all away? And if that happens, me being here will put Jo and Missouri in danger too.”

“Sam…” John tried to cut in.

“I won’t stay put, anyways. If you try to leave me behind, I’ll follow you.”

“Damnit, Sam! This isn’t a game!” John shouted.

“My brother is being tortured and the world may be coming to an end! I damn well know that this isn’t a game! And that’s why I’m not gonna sit here and play board games and stuff while you all go off on the rescue mission. I _can_ help, so I _will_ help.” Sam’s voice was filled with determination. But then he lowered it and it wavered slightly as he repeated “Dean needs me.”

“Kid has a point.” Gabriel spoke up.

“No one asked you.” John grumbled.

“This is me not caring if you wanted my opinion or not.” Gabriel smirked.

“Dad…”

“Sam, you realize that the likelihood of everyone surviving this is practically zero, right?”

“I’m going.”

“Fine.” John grudgingly agreed. “But that means we gotta put you on a team.”

“He can be on our team.” Anderson volunteered. 

“No, I’d rather watch out for him myself.”

The cop shook his head. “Your team already has three people. As do the two other teams. So far, mine is just me and Gabriel. And if you think about, that’s the safest team for your son. I can take out the angels, Gabriel can smite demons. And you know that I’ll protect him. I’ve done it before.”

“And we make an awesome team.” Sam piped up.

John’s head was beginning to hurt. He did not want Sam to go. And if Sam _was_ going, he wanted the boy where he could keep an eye on him. But Anderson was right. Damn the man. 

“Alright.” He conceded. Then he turned to the cop. “If anything happens to him, you’ll be the next to be tortured. You understand me?”

Anderson nodded. “Completely.”

“Good.”

“Well, now that that is all decided,” Gabriel broke in. “And the last member of our kamikaze squad just pulled into your drive, maybe we should start finalizing our plans? The apocalypse isn’t going to end itself, you know.”

John resisted the urge to draw the correct sigil and banish the smart-mouthed archangel. The guy hadn’t stopped with the comments since reappearing in their home. But they’d need him. They’d need all the help they could get. And still, the worried father was praying that it’d be enough.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

He was no longer sure how long he’d been jumping from memory to memory, but Dean was certain that he was losing his grip on the concept of reality. Time seemed to move differently here, kind of like it had in Hell, because it seemed like he’d been in his own mind for at least a year or two or three or more… But he couldn’t have been. Alastair would not have kept him alive and comatose that long. So really, time meant nothing. Which was screwed up. As was the memories themselves. Sometimes he’d be in good ones. Sometimes in awful, terrible ones (the Hell ones were really nasty and he always had trouble breaking free of them). Some lasted mere minutes before resetting to the start of the memory, while others continued on for days. Some memories were from the original timeline. Some were from the altered one he and Cas had helped create. It was confusing. But the most unnerving, mind-crushing aspect of being stuck inside his memories was the lack of interaction. Every sequence played out the same, no matter what he did. He could play along or completely go off script and the others would just go about their business as if he didn’t matter at all. Maybe he didn’t. And really, what did that say if he didn’t matter in his own head?

Dean groaned. He really was losing it. But no. He wouldn’t let himself go there. He’d stay strong until help arrived. And one of the ways that he was staying strong and holding onto the last shreds of sanity was by not staying in any one memory too long. No matter how nice the memory was. Sure moving around meant that he faced the risk of unpleasant memories, but Dean couldn’t imagine ‘living’ in the same memory as it repeated over and over again and he was unable to interact with anyone or change anything. Yep, that’d be a one way ticket to the funny farm.

So, he stepped away from Sonny’s home for boys with a slight smile on his face and walked until he felt that now too familiar feeling of the memory barrier. He closed his eyes, feeling his teenage body change and grow. He knew before looking that he was an adult again. Okay, still in ‘original memories’ then.

Dean opened his eyes and did an involuntary shiver. Okay, this was not a place he’d wanted to return to. ‘Course he knew now that he wouldn’t die here, so it wasn’t so bad. And maybe, depending on the timeframe that this was taking place he’d get to see…

“We’re not too far away now. Just days to go, brother.”

“Benny.” Dean turned to see the vampire standing next to him. He drew the other man into a hug, knowing that his friend wouldn’t react, but not really caring. 

As he stepped back, he saw Cas standing not too far behind. Dean didn’t really like thinking about where the angel’s head had been at in those days. 

“We should keep moving.” Cas suggested.

“Right, of course.” Dean nodded. “Not that it matters, ‘cause moving or not, we were under attack here every freakin’ fifteen minutes or so.” He laughed. 

Benny nodded. “Good idea.” 

Apparently, whatever he’d said in the original timeline had been a bit more leader-ish. 

Dean moved out with the other two. He’d spend a bit more time here. Maybe battle a few creatures just because he could and savor a few more minutes with a long lost friend. Then he’d move on to whatever his mind had in store for him next.


	168. Fight

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Eight: Fight 

The building didn’t look that imposing. Certainly not like the kind of place that would house dozens of demons and angels and Castiel’s best friend. Of course that was if you didn’t count the thousands of sigils written all over its walls that were invisible to all eyes in their group except for his and Gabriel’s. It was those that had prevented any angels from just appearing inside and transporting Dean out. So now they had to enter through the doors and fight their way to Dean, wherever he might be.

“Alright,” John started, his voice full of authority. “Everyone clear on the plan?” There were nods and affirmative responses all around. “Good. Then let’s move out. Go in through your designated entrances and clear your areas. Take out any demons or angels you encounter. Anyone that’s not us or Dean is considered hostile. If you find Dean, radio in immediately. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain, sir!” Gabriel saluted.

John rolled his eyes as everyone else confirmed that they understood all orders. They broke off into their four teams of three and went off into different directions, leaving the cars behind. Gabriel had grumbled about having to help transport not only all the hunters but their vehicles as well, but no one wanted to be stranded if something happened and the angels couldn’t bring them back. Better safe than sorry, as humans often said.

Castiel watched Sam walk off around back with Gabriel and Anderson. He hoped that the boy would be alright. Bobby, Rufus, and Caleb went off to the right side of the building to enter through the fire escape. Bill, Ellen and Jim were sticking with John, Mary and himself until they got inside and then they’d split up. Each team had at least one person that could perform exorcisms and knew how to banish angels. Also, Bill had taken out the three angel blades that he’d kept from the encounter with Uriel and his two followers. Both Bill and Ellen had each kept one and had handed one over to Caleb. So, including Castiel’s and Gabriel’s, each team had at least one of those weapons too. John had the Colt. Bobby the demon killing knife. Everyone else was armed with iron blades, holy water, holy oil, and guns with iron or salt rounds. They were as prepared as they could be.

Castiel led the way to the front door. As they approached, two demons stepped forward to intercept but the angel moved quickly and pressed his hands against their chests, smiting them both in an instant. That was just the beginning of the fighting, however. Castiel was immediately overrun by demons that seemed to come from all directions. He pulled his blade out and met them head on. From the corner of his eye, he saw John pull out the Colt and take aim. Mary had a gun out as well and some holy water. Bill and Ellen were back to back with their blades drawn. Pastor Jim was holding a shot gun. Castiel prayed they’d all make it through alive. 

As he smote demon after demon and drove his blade into them, he lost track of his friends. Occasionally he’d see one of them fighting by his side or hear a gunshot, but there was too much commotion to keep an eye on everyone. Castiel slid the sword into the throat of one demon while kicking another to stun it so that it wouldn’t cause him harm. They both fell to the ground; one dead, one stunned. Then the angel bent down and smote the demon. As he stood, he took in the sight. Only a few demons remained standing. But considering the amount already encountered, the original headcount had been conservative. There were a lot more held up in here than they’d thought. And they had yet to face any angels.

That was something that Castiel was not looking forward to. Killing demons was one thing. Sure he felt awful for the host, but in most cases it was far too late to save them anyhow. But the actual killing of the demonic entity didn’t bother Castiel. They were evil. Demons enjoyed killing and torture and wouldn’t stop unless _they_ were stopped. They were abominations and ending them was necessary. But Castiel always hated it when he had to fight his own siblings. Most were just misled. Easily duped by their need to follow orders. Heck, Castiel himself had crossed lines before and had had to be stopped. And he often wondered where he’d have ended up if he’d never had gotten the order to pull Dean from Hell. Would he be one of the angels blindly following orders to start the apocalypse? He’d like think that he’d know that working with demons was wrong no matter what, but still… The fact remained that he couldn’t see most of his siblings as evil (Zachariah was an exception if he’d laid even a finger on Dean) so the idea of killing them was causing a terrible conflict. But Castiel would do it. Because whether or not the angels were evil, Dean was not. And they were taking part in hurting him. And thus, if Dean was to be saved, they needed to be stopped. One way or another.

A couple minutes later they were all entering the building. There’d been no calls on the radio yet; good or bad. But then again, Castiel hadn’t expected any word yet. 

Once inside, he and the Winchesters went to the right. They encountered two demons who were very easily disposed of. Then they started checking rooms. Some were empty, others had demons that seemed to just be hanging out, waiting for orders. So far, nothing that was too terrible. 

Then they entered a larger room, its original purpose in the factory unknown. Castiel raised his weapon and looked around at the half a dozen inhabitants. This was the fight he’d been dreading. They had finally encountered some angels. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural...  
…

Alastair heard the commotion almost the moment it began. It was clear what was going on. Someone had arrived to try and retrieve Dean. Well, they wouldn’t succeed. But perhaps he could use this to his advantage. 

Dean was unresponsive. The demon had been using his most creative methods on the teenager and hadn’t gotten any kind of reaction at all. He’d had that fool of an angel Zachariah go into the hunter’s head and try to tear him out, but the winged freak had (unsurprisingly) failed. If it weren’t for the fact that working with the angels had proven beneficial, Zachariah would now be strapped down to a table to be taken apart piece by piece. Alastair took a moment to relish in the image of pulling off an angel’s wings the way a child would an insect’s. He shook his head. Maybe one day. For now, he had to concentrate on Dean Winchester. The rescue party would most certainly include the child’s parents. Alastair would find them and take at least one of them alive. Everyone else could die bloody. But then he’d get that useless angel to scream into Dean’s mind that they had his parents and would torture them until he awoke. Afterwards, Alastair would get to work. And he’d also get a chance to see if the boy had passed any information onto his family. It was a perfect situation. 

Placing the blood coated blade down on the tray next to the table, the demon patted the comatose teenager on his damaged face. 

“You’ll be getting company real soon, Dean. It just won’t be in the way that your family is hoping. But oh, won’t it be delicious.”

With a grin on his face, Alastair licked the sweet blood off of his fingers as he left the room. That was one pleasure he didn’t get in Hell. Souls didn’t bleed real blood. But in either place, the screams were just as musical. And he couldn’t wait to hear more. Dean had been so boring since hiding himself away. Alastair was looking forward to truly getting back to work.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural...  
…

Caleb clutched the angel blade tightly in his hand as he followed Bobby down the hall. The weapon had proved to be very effective. Sure, he felt more comfortable with a gun, but he’d been practicing with different kinds of swords for the past couple of years whenever he’d get a chance. Bill had even given him an old short sword from his personal collection a year ago, so he had a bit of fighting experience with such weapons. And he considered himself lucky that he had the angel blade right now. Bobby only had the small demon killing knife and a gun. Rufus was using a shotgun with salt rounds and a handgun with iron bullets. But that _did_ mean that Caleb was stepping in to finish killing the ones that the others only incapacitated. And if they encountered any angels, he’d be their only chance at defeating them.

Five demons rushed them. Three shots rang out. Caleb decapitated one that hadn’t been shot then turned to locate the other uninjured one. But Bobby had moved in and slit its throat with the knife. So, the younger hunter used the blade to stab one demon that was just getting to its feet. That left two. 

A demon had grabbed Rufus from behind and was just about to stab him in the side with a wicked looking hunting knife. Caleb wasn’t close enough, so he tossed the angel blade to Bobby, who caught it and drove the weapon through the demon’s neck. Once he was free, Rufus shot the last demon again, as it had been about to attack Caleb. Bobby threw the blade back to him, and the young hunter finished the creature off.

Then they were moving again. Bobby opened a door that led to a stairwell. Looked like they were heading up. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean was tired of running. He was tired of walking. He was just so damned tired of everything. 

He’d tried. He really had. Dean had gone from memory to memory trying to stay sane and keep fighting. Fighting? What the hell was he fighting? There wasn’t even a real enemy in here. Just himself. Maybe _he_ was the real enemy. His own screwed up self. After all, he _had_ gotten himself into this mess, right? 

In the end, it didn’t matter what he was supposed to fight or why. He was too tired to do it. He’d gotten out of Hell again (and at least he’d had the strength to do _that_ ) and then fallen to his knees. And he hadn’t gotten back up.

Not even as the scene started playing out around him.

“What do you need to examine him for?” A voice asked. “You saw what happened.”

A woman’s voice spoke. “Did her blood actually enter your wound?”

“Come on! Of course it did!” The first guy yelled. 

There was a pause where Dean knew that he was supposed to say his ‘lines’. He remained silent.

“We can’t take a chance. You know what we have to do.”

No. He really didn’t want to be here. Not at a moment where he’d been sure that he’d lose Sammy. Not at a moment where he’d been ready to stand there and let himself die with his brother. This was not a memory he wanted to revisit. But he was just too damned tired to get up and try to find his way out.

“He’s not gonna be your brother much longer. You said it yourself.” Another guy spoke up. After a brief moment he continued. “You were gonna shoot me!”

_Yeah, well, you were a moron._ Dean thought. But still he said nothing. He just continued to kneel there in the center of the room as everything played out around him.

“Dean,” Sam started. “They’re right. I’m infected. Just give me the gun and I’ll do it myself.” A pause. “Dean, I’m not gonna become one of those things!”

Dean wanted to get away from this. He really did. So he crawled away to the corner of the room. He tried not to listen as the arguing continued around him. Voices rose, and there were strange moments of silence as he continued to refuse to play his role in all of this. As the hunter turned and took in the sight, he saw the doctor chick leave. The door closed behind her and locked. It was weird to see, as it had been him that had closed it in the original timeline, but here it just sort of happened.

Sam looked devastated. “Dean, don’t do this. Just get the hell outta here.”

_Wish I could, Sammy. But I’m too damned tired to go any further._

“Give me my gun and leave.” Sam ordered. After a few seconds, Sam violently punched the exam table he was sitting on. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done!”

Dean shrugged. Everything he did was pretty damned stupid in his own opinion.

“Dean, I’m sick. It’s over for me. It doesn’t have to be for you… No. You can keep going.”

Now Dean did participate. Mostly out of the complete irony of the whole damned situation. 

“Who says I want to?” He whispered. 

“What?”

“I’m tired, Sam.” He didn’t continue with his original speech, he just let that one sentence hang there. 

“So what? You’re just gonna give up? I mean, you’re just gonna lay down and die? Look I know this stuff with Dad…”

Dean shook his head. It wasn’t really giving up. He wasn’t ready to do that yet. But he wasn’t ready to continue the fight either. He just needed a break. He couldn’t keep going. He couldn’t. He was just so damned tired at that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene at the end is from the episode 'Croatoan' from Season 2.


	169. Fifth Floor

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Nine: Fifth Floor

They'd made it in and up to the fifth floor. The very top of the building; which was where Gabriel had said that he sensed the largest group of angels gathered. And since their group was the best equipped to deal with angels, they had found a set of stairs and gone up. Which was a bit of a relief for Scott. Sure their blades could easily kill him, but their powers couldn't touch him like the demons could. And if he could 'fill up' on enough of their grace, he'd be set for any demon battles to come. And then maybe the fights would go smoother than the first couple…

Upon entering the building, they'd been ambushed by a bunch of demons. Scott had managed to shoot several of them, but he knew that while iron bullets might injure the creatures, it wouldn't kill them. Gabriel had waded in, smiting and slicing, while Sam splashed the demons with holy water and started reciting an exorcism. That was one thing that the policeman wasn't even going to try. He'd been reading the Latin words over and over in an attempt to memorize them for a while now, but he wasn't perfect with it (and apparently his pronunciation sucked), and would most definitely get everyone killed if he were to go ahead and screw the ritual up. So he left that for Sam and just kept the demons busy and away from the boy. It was a strategy that worked, but was by no means easy. By the time they had made it to the stairs, they'd had several such battles and he and Sam both had a few cuts and bruises. Nothing major, but he could tell that the kid was tiring. Hell, Scott himself was getting worn out.

But as Gabriel swung the door to the room that he'd said he felt the angels' presence in open, Scott gathered up all his energy for another battle. The archangel went in first, sword out and ready to fight. Sam followed with Scott right behind him. The cop hadn't wanted Sam to go last just in case something came at them from the hall. But as soon as they were all in the room, he put himself in front of the boy.

"Well, I don't suppose you guys just want to point me in the direction of Dean Winchester and then all pop back up to Heaven and let your big bro know what bad little boys and girls you've been?" Gabriel asked casually. Four angels rushed him while five came at Sam and Scott. "No? Your loss. It was a great offer."

Scott didn't wait for any of the angels to get close to them. He didn't even care which ones were coming at him, which were closing in on Gabriel, or which were hanging back and using their powers from a distance. The young cop just reached out and for the first time ever he tried to connect with multiple graces at once. There were thirteen angels in the room. Ten were using their grace in one way or another; either to attack, to communicate with the others, or to teleport (and it must be to somewhere without the anti-teleport sigils… maybe they were going for backup or to pass on information about the attack; it really didn't matter). Scott concentrated and he finally felt all ten individual angels' graces touching him. Then, using his mind, he grabbed onto them and pulled as hard as he could. The policeman gasped out loud as he felt the heat rushing through him. It was far more overwhelming than just absorbing the power of one angel. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. Through the rushing in his own ears, Scott thought he heard the sounds of a fight, voices screaming, and Sam calling his name, but he couldn't be sure of anything. Then his whole body felt like it was on fire and he cried out and curled in on himself (and just when had he fallen to the floor anyways?) wanting it to be over. And then it was. The grace of all the angels was inside of him and it was beginning to… cool, for lack of a better description. His body went from white hot agony, to painful sunburn, to uncomfortable heat, to a steady warmth. And that's when Scott found that he could breathe again.

"Anderson? Hey… are… are you okay?" A hand touched his neck. "He has a pulse, but it’s really fast. And his skin is kind of hot. Like maybe he has a fever."

Scott groaned and rolled over, uncurling his body. He opened his eyes to look up at Sam. "I'm okay, it was just… a bit intense."

It was Sam's turn to gasp. "Your eyes!"

Scott wrinkled his brow in confusion. "What? They're okay."

"No, they're… practically glowing. I mean, they're still brown and all, but I bet if I turned off the light I'd still be able to see them."

"Oh." Was all the cop could think to say. When the hell would his life stop getting freakier?

“But you feel okay?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah.”

“’Cause you were screaming like you were in a lot of pain and then you just… stopped. I thought you were dead for a moment.” Sam sounded shaken.

Scott worked up a reassuring smile. “Nah, angel stuff can’t kill me, remember?” 

The boy nodded. “Then… what happened?”

“Guess I just took too much in at once.”

“It never hurt you before.”

Scott shrugged. “Well, this was ten graces instead of one. It’s the difference between carrying a candle and trying to pick up a bonfire. I didn’t think about it before, but I guess I know now.”

“Well, if you’re not gonna be checking out any time soon, maybe you can put all that juice to good use.” Gabriel commented as he walked over to join them. “Because I’m sure there’s some more threats around here somewhere.”

“The angels?” Scott asked. 

“I finished what you started. It really is no challenge once you’re done doing your bit. Now, are you ready to go, or do you like it down there on the floor?”

Scott could tell that fighting his own family was bothering the archangel, but he also knew better than to bring it up. They were on a mission and it was kill or be killed. God, was it only four years ago that the most action he’d ever seen had been an old lady trying to smuggle a ham out of a supermarket? Heh… simpler times.

The young cop got to his feet and followed the others out of the room. They checked the following two rooms and found them empty. Scott was beginning to wonder if there was anything else up on this floor when Gabriel swung the next door open. Scott was a bit taller than the archangel and could easily see over him and thus got a clear view into the room. Luckily, Sam, who was between the two wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing from his position. Before Gabriel could step in and give the boy a chance to catch a glimpse, Scott reached out and grabbed Sam, spinning the child around. The policeman pressed the boy’s face against himself, holding him tightly. No twelve year old needed to see this.

“Anderson, what’s wrong… Is it, Dean? I saw blood on the floor… is he dead?”

He had to be. No one could be that torn apart and still be alive. Scott found that he couldn’t tear his eyes off of the body lying chained to the table, no matter how much he wanted to. Even though he felt his stomach protest and had to bite his lip and swallow hard to stop himself from vomiting. The teenage boy’s naked body was covered in deep cuts with large portions of the flesh missing. Bones were obviously broken, with some showing either due to poking out from the skin or because the skin and muscle over them had been stripped away. Parts of the skin that had not been cut were burned to the point where it was black and peeling away. And there was blood everywhere. Scott’s mind couldn’t even comprehend all of the damage that he was seeing. 

“Your brother’s alive.” Gabriel announced.

“Wha…” Scott cut himself off before he could blurt out _but how?_ in front of Sam and let on just how bad off Dean was. But he really couldn’t see a way that the older Winchester son could still be alive. Except, as he looked, he saw that fresh blood was still running from the wounds, which wouldn’t be the case if he was looking at a corpse.

“It’s this room. Humans can’t die in here. No matter what’s done to them.”

“So… Dean’s hurt but alive?” Sam asked. “Can… can I see him?”

“No.” Scott refused. “You don’t need to see this.”

“It… it’s bad then?”

“He looks like he’s been put through a meat grinder, kiddo.” Gabriel remarked casually.

“Hey!” Scott scolded him. 

“What? It’s true.” The archangel shrugged.

Sam tried to pull away, but the policeman kept a firm hold. “Can you help him?” Scott requested. 

“Yeah!” Sam chimed in. “You’re an angel. Heal him!”

Gabriel sighed. “This room has so many sigils and magic blocks it’s not even funny.”

“But we can’t take him out of here or…” Scott didn’t complete the sentence.

“Hey now, I didn’t say that I _couldn’t_ heal him, I was just starting to explain that it wouldn’t be easy. As in, this is going to take time.”

Scott nodded. “I’ll watch your back. You just take care of Dean.”

“Please.” Sam added, sounding sad and desperate. He’d stopped trying to pull away and was now holding onto Scott tightly. The young man felt the boy’s silent tears leaking through his shirt. Damn, he was beginning to wish that it hadn’t been his team that had been the one to find Dean. Speaking of… 

Scott hit the button on the radio. “Team 1, this is team 4. Objective one positive.”

That meant that Dean was found alive. Negative would’ve meant that he was dead. Dean was objective one, while objective two was to take out the two leaders that were trying to start the apocalypse. Scott like the Winchesters’ priorities. 

“Understood.” John’s voice was filled with relief. The policeman wondered how relieved he’d be if he saw this room. “Do you require backup?”

“Negative.”

The call over, Scott glanced over at Gabriel. The archangel had his hands on Dean. The boy’s body was slowing repairing itself. The cop watched as bones slid back into place and the skin pulled back together. He wondered if the healing process was painful, but figured that Dean didn’t feel anything since the teen wasn’t reacting. Or could that be a bad sign…

As if reading his mind, Gabriel stopped after a couple minutes. “Something’s wrong.”

“What?” Sam asked frantically. “Is he okay?”

“His body is healing well, but that’s the problem. He should’ve woken by now. But he’s still out and when I tried to reach in and yell a wake up call to make certain that everything was okay, I ran into a big ‘no angels allowed sign’. But still no Dean.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“Best case scenario; Deano hid himself away to escape the angels and demons. Worst case scenario; all this torture drove him batty and he’s gone.”

Sam tried to pull away again. Scott still held him firmly. Sure, Dean was looking better, but there were still signs of torture on his body and the teen wasn’t dressed. 

“No, Dean’s been through really bad stuff before. He’s not gone. I know him.”

“Besides,” Scott joined in. “You said that there was some protection in his mind against angels. That sounds to me like he did whatever he did on purpose, right?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Could be? Or it could’ve been something he put up a while back. He’s been hunted by angels for a long time.”

“No,” Sam shook hid head. “’Cause he always let Cas in while he slept.”

“Really?” Gabriel smirked. “Dean never struck me as _that_ type.”

“Pull your mind out of the gutter and keep focused on helping my brother.” Sam ordered. 

“What do we do to help him?” Scott asked.

“I can’t do anything.” Gabriel responded. “ _If_ Dean hid himself in his own head, the only way to get him out would be to go in and tell him that it’s okay to come on out. But, he won’t let angels in… and the last time I checked, I still got wings and a halo.”

“Can… can you get someone else in?” Sam wanted to know. “Like, Cas brought me into Dean’s dreams sometimes, so I know it’s possible to bring someone into someone else’s head. If you can get me into Dean’s head, maybe I can help him.”

“No.” Gabriel refused.

“You can’t do it.” Sam sounded disappointed.

“I _can_. I just think that it’s a terrible idea.”

“Why?”

“You have no clue what’s in your brother’s head. If he was in the dream area, it wouldn’t be an issue. But he seems to have buried himself deep. And you can’t be wandering around in big bro’s memories.”

“Why not? I know there’s scary stuff there. He told me he was in Hell at one point, but…”

“It’s way worse than that.”

There was a moment where that sentence just hung there and Scott could feel something building in the air. Then Sam ducked out of his grasp and pulled away in one quick motion. The boy paled at the sight of his brother, but then turned to glare at Gabriel.

“You know! You know this big secret that everyone is keeping about Dean! I don’t believe this!” The kid turned on Scott. “Do you know too?”

The cop shook his head, not even completely sure what he was talking about.

“At least I’m not the only one kept in the dark. But you know what, I’m done with it. Dean is stuck in his own head and I _can_ help him, so I _will_. I don’t give a damn what is in his head. I’m not scared. But Gabriel, you _are_ going to tell me everything before I go in there. ‘Cause I need to know. And a secret isn’t worth Dean’s life.”

The archangel forced a smirk. “Listen short stuff, I doubt your big brother would…”

“ _I_ doubt he’d want to be left in his own memories which you yourself admit aren’t pleasant. What if he’s suffering right now?”

“Sam’s right, Gabriel.” Scott spoke up. “Now isn’t the time for secrets.”

The archangel rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if Dean stabs me with an angel blade when he wakes up for telling the boy his secrets and rolling out the red carpet into his screwed up head, I’m holding you both responsible.”

Scott shrugged. “You’ll be too dead for me to care much at that point.”

“Feeling the love.” Gabriel muttered. 

Sam walked over to where his brother was lying and held his hand. “I’m coming, Dean. You’ll be okay.”

“Now remember, I’m telling you this under protest, and I don’t have all the details, but this is what I know about Dean Winchester…”


	170. The Real Dean

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy: The Real Dean 

Sam felt like he should be holding his breath or something as Gabriel started talking. This was it; the big secret. The thing that no one wanted him to know. The very knowledge that Dean believed would make Sam stop loving him. As Gabriel started off on his ‘disclaimers’, then made certain that the door was closed since apparently the symbols in the room would prevent anyone or anything from listening in, Sam was torn as to whether to yell at him to hurry up or to shut up. But he did neither, and the archangel got to the point.

“When I first encountered your brother, I was confused by him. You see, I had been cut off from the whole Heaven water cooler gossip for quite a while by choice, so I hadn’t known that stuff had changed. So as far as I knew, your mom was destined to die when you were a baby. The prediction was that John would then want revenge and become a hunter, taking you boys down that road with him. And by ‘prediction’ I mean, forces would make certain that it happened. When you were all grown up, you’d both have roles to play in the apocalypse. Deano would have to spend some quality vacation time in Hell to fulfill his.”

Sam scrunched up his face. “O-kay… I know a little of this. Like, I knew some of this stuff was supposed to have happened through comments and stuff, but I also know that Dean changed things.”

“Exactly. But do you know how?” When Sam shook his head, Gabriel continued. “When I first met Dean and he told me that he’d changed stuff, he also told me a story. And it goes like this; all the bad stuff I told you about? Well, it actually happened. And big bro grew up in it. And somehow it came to a point where, in his own words, ‘everyone was dead and the world was ready to burn’. So somehow, his guardian angel Castiel brought him back to this time. Well, back to when he was a little kid to be exact. Around the time your mom was going to die. He must’ve found a way to stop it and has been here changing all sorts of stuff ever since.”

Sam shook his head. “But… that makes no sense. Dean isn’t grown up. He’s only four years older than me.”

“His body maybe. But his soul… that thing looks worse than his body looked when we walked in the room a few minutes ago. Good old Cas must’ve just brought that thing back through time and popped it into his kiddy form. _That_ had to have been a weird experience.” The archangel seemed thoughtful. “Gives me several ideas…”

“Gabriel! Stay focused.” Sam called. “Dean… he’s… an adult?” Sam looked at his brother lying there on the table. He didn’t look that old… But when Sam thought about it, Dean had always looked old. And not just because he was Sam’s older brother. There was something in the older boy’s eyes that just screamed of experience and knowledge (and pain) that no kid should ever have. Even back when they were little. So, what Gabriel was saying made a certain degree of sense, but Sam just didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think that Dean had lived a lifetime before he’d ever even known him. A lifetime of pain and crap and sadness. He didn’t want to think about the fact that his family had kept this all from him his whole life, had pretended that Dean was something that he wasn’t for years. If what Gabriel said was true, then where did that leave him and Dean? Did Dean really think of him as a brother at all? Was everything between them just an act? No… Dean had really cared about him. Sam knew that. Dean may have been keeping a hell of a secret, but Sam still knew his brother. Didn’t he? 

“Sort of.” Gabriel shrugged. “From what I gathered from our brief encounters, he’s got his memories from the original timeline intact, but everything else is in the here and now. Body is new, his emotions are linked to his current age, and he’s really invested in fixing everything that got screwed up. Look, I can’t tell you anything more. He didn’t exactly give me a copy of his autobiography or anything. But I do know that he’s been through Hell. Literally. And if you are set on going into his memories, you’re going to see thirty-plus years of Dean Winchester crap. That something you’re prepared for?”

Sam studied Dean’s face. He thought about everything that his brother had been through. Hell. And he might be there now. No wonder he needed Cas to help him in his dreams… His dreams. Sam almost gasped as he recalled the time that he’d been brought into Dean’s dream and saw a young man standing in the diner. The young man that had short spiky hair and dressed like Dean and had Dean’s eyes. And there was one other thing that he had noticed but his brain hadn’t processed at that time. The young man had been wearing Dean’s amulet. It had been Dean. Dean as an adult. Dean before he’d come back to this time. And that Dean, who was the same as the young-child-Dean that Sam had grown up with, had been looking out for him and had sent Cas to rescue Sam from his own nightmares and bring him to safety. Dean, who had gone through Hell, had cared enough about a five year old Sam’s garden-variety bad dream to help him out then. How could Sam let his brother down now?

“I’ll do whatever it takes to help my brother.” He declared.

“Then let’s get the show on the road. It won’t be too long before we start to get company.” Gabriel turned to Anderson. Sam had actually forgotten that the cop was in the room. “You got our backs? We’ll be out of the fight the whole time I’m connecting his mind to Dean’s.”

Anderson nodded. “I can handle it.” Sam hoped that he was right. It really wouldn’t be worth it to get Dean pulled out of his own mind only for them to be killed out here. But the policeman had proven to be trustworthy and great in a fight so far.

“Well then… hang on to your sanity, kiddo.” Sam watched as Gabriel touched Dean’s forehead and then felt the archangel’s hand on his own. 

At first, nothing happened. Then, suddenly the room melted away and he was in a whitish, misty landscape that seemed to have no end. Gabriel was standing right next to him.

“Where are we?” Sam asked.

“Your brother’s head. Well, the dreamscape portion. But without him or his memories to control it, there’s nothing here.”

“Oh. So, what now?”

“Now, you walk until you find his memories. Hopefully he lets you in. But this is as far as I can go. No angels allowed past this point, remember? I’ll stay here and keep the connection going.”

Sam nodded. He walked cautiously through the nothingness, not sure of where he was going or even where he was supposed to go. It all looked the same. He was beginning to worry that he’d walk like this forever.

But that was before he found himself in a freefall. Sam wasn’t sure if he cried out or not, but he _did_ know that after such a long fall, the landing should’ve hurt quite a bit. But instead, the boy felt as though he’d just taken a small tumble. 

Sam got to his feet and looked around. He was no longer surrounded by endless nothing. Instead, he found himself in a garden. There were large tomato plants in tomato cages, cucumbers climbing up a fence, bush beans, squash plants, eggplant, carrots, corn, and peppers. He looked through the rows of vegetables, trying to figure out why he was here when he heard voices.

“But Dean, why do we gotta be quiet?”

“’Cause we don’t want Mr. McGregor to catch us in his garden, do we?”

“Nope! ‘Cause we’re rabbits, right? You’re Peter and I’m Benjamin Bunny.”

“Yeah. Now let me get a bit more and we can go.”

Sam turned and saw Dean and himself. He blinked at the weirdness of the situation. Dean was young. Like, younger than he himself was right now. Well, _him_ him, not the him that was walking alongside the Dean that was probably only about nine years old. And young Dean looked… wrong. His hair was darker than Sam remembered it being and cut differently. His clothes fit him poorly and he just didn’t look as healthy, as if he wasn’t getting the proper food or sun or something. In Dean’s hand was an old looking duffle bag. The boy reached out and pulled a few cherry tomatoes from a plant and tossed them in the bag. Little Sammy was practically bouncing up and down next to him. Sam didn’t really remember what he’d looked like at that age, but he was sure that there were some differences too. And the clothes on the boy were certainly a bit too big. 

“If we get caught, will the farmer bake us into a pie?”

“Yep, that’s why we can’t get caught.” Dean teased.

Sammy’s eye widened. “Really?”

Dean laughed. “C’mon, Sammy. You know I won’t let him get you. But you do gotta be quiet.”

“Can we get some of those really big cucumbers?”

Dean looked over. “Those are squash. And no, we can’t.”

“Why not?” Sammy whined.

“’Cause I don’t know how to cook it. And I’m not eatin’ that stuff. But we got the real cukes, and tomatoes, and corn, and I’ll grab some carrots too.”

“Okay!” The boy sounded happy again.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh. The whole exchange was cute. And that was when something very weird happened. Dean turned and looked right at him. The boy blinked and then the entire scene around them just froze. 

Dean dropped the duffle bag to the ground and walked towards him. Sam wasn’t sure how to react. This was a memory; how was this Dean reacting to him?

“Heya, Sammy.”

“Dean?”

“How’d you get in here?” 

“Gabriel.”

“Oh. “ Dean scratched his head. “Doesn’t mean anything to me. Not really. Must be someone from my future.”

“So… you know that you’re just a memory?” Sam asked. This was getting more surreal by the moment.

Dean shrugged. “Well, yeah. As long as you’re here. When you’re not, I just keep repeating the same actions over and over again.”

“Raiding someone’s garden.” 

“We need the food.” He shrugged. “Dad was supposed to be back days ago. I tried to call Pastor Jim but no one picked up. So now I gotta find a way to get food. Can’t let Sammy go hungry.”

Sam was trying to process what Dean was telling him. Their dad had left the two boys alone for enough days that the food was running out and now his brother was forced to steal. And what was worse was that it didn’t seem to be an unusual situation for the older boy.

“Aren’t you concerned about getting caught?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah. All the kids at school say the dude drinks all day. His wife takes care of the garden and she’s away. Watched her leave before we came in.”

“And you told Sammy ( _and wasn’t it weird to refer to ‘himself’ in third person_ ) that this is all a game?”

Now Dean got defensive. “What the hell was I supposed to tell him? That we were gonna starve to death if we didn’t sneak into here and take these crappy vegetables? That I couldn’t risk cutting class again to shoplift from the corner store? Would that be better? No. Uh uh. Sammy’s _never_ gonna have to worry about that kind of crap. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Oh.” Sam bit his lip. So this had been Dean’s life before. What had their dad been thinking? 

“Yeah… Oh.” Then Dean calmed down. “I don’t know too much about what’s going on. But I _do_ know that Dean changed all this. We all know it. Sort of. And if you’re here, then you came here for him. ‘Cause I also know that he’s in here. And before you ask, no, I don’t know where.”

“He? Aren’t you him too?”

Dean shook his head. “Not really. I’m just a memory. Sort of conscious while talking with you, but as I said before, I usually just keep breaking into this garden with Sammy. But Dean, he’s all of us and more.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. But it’s the truth. And I’ll give you a warning. I don’t know what happens after I leave this garden, but I know that my life gets far worse. ‘Cause I hear the other Deans screaming sometimes. So, you’re gonna see some stuff that you don’t want to. Stuff he doesn’t want you to know. Don’t hate him for it. That’ll kill him.”

“I would never hate Dean.” Sam insisted. “But I’m confused. Shouldn’t you cease to exist if Dean changed everything?”

“Well, this never happened in your timeline, but I still exist. I’m still Dean. Well, part of him.”

“But my Dean…”

“I _am_ your Dean. Just ‘cause you never broke into a garden with me doesn’t change anything. Dean lived all this and then changed things to save his family. Including you. He wanted you to have a better life than this and all the even worse stuff that comes next. But he’s still the same Dean.”

Sam bit his lip. “I guess. But while you may be my Dean, I’m not your Sammy.”

The young Dean shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know about that. You may not have his experiences the way Dean will always carry around his, but you are still Sammy. I mean, my Sammy may have eaten all the Lucky Charms, but he gave me the prize at the bottom of the box. You ever done that for Dean?”

Sam smiled. “All the time. And that’s my favorite cereal. I used to beg Dean for the final serving and he’d always give in. So, I’d give him the toy. He still has them all on his dresser back at home.”

Dean smiled sadly. “Dad wouldn’t let me keep ‘em. Said they were junk and would take up too much room in our bags.” He cleared his throat. “But Sammy also loves school, yet is one of the first kids to run out everyday so that he can greet me with a hug.”

“I did the same when I was in grade school.” Sam confessed.

“Very picky eater.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Bright and argumentative.”

“I think those are Dean’s exact words to describe me.”

Kid Dean smiled. “See. You’ll always be my Sammy.”

Sam smiled back. “And you’ll always be my Dean. Even if the stuff in here is scary.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. You’ll have to convince him. As for me, I get to spend forever with a Sammy that is excited to pretend he’s a rabbit stealing from a farmer and will never stop loving me. I have it pretty good. And I have to get back to it. But you’d better be going. Time moves strange here. You may be here a while. And not all the Deans will become aware of you if the memory they’re stuck in is too intense. But if you need help, call to them. ‘Cause no Dean will ignore a Sam that needs help.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Good luck. Just start walking. You’ll find your way.”

Sam turned and started walking out of the garden. He heard Dean move behind him. He really wanted to turn and watch more of his young older brother, but the boy had been right. He had a mission. 

He hopped the fence and kept going. How far did this memory landscape extend? To the end of the guy’s yard? The end of the street? The block? The city? Sam wasn’t sure. He figured that he wouldn’t be able to walk outside of anything that had been part of Dean’s personal experience, but did that mean that he could go anywhere Dean had as a child? Or that he had to stay within the confines of this particular memory.

A moment later, he got his answer. The second he started to get out of sight of child Dean, the scene around him shifted. Yes! He’d done it! He was one step closer to finding his Dean.

His excitement ended as he took in his surroundings. The room of the cabin was dark and dreary and he didn’t have to be a hunter to know that something was very wrong. All he had to do was see that the adult version of his brother (and yes, he looked like that dream version from the diner) seemed to be pinned to the wall. And there was another guy there too. Sam recognized him too. He was the other guy from that picture that Dean kept in the journal. And Sam had a suspicion of who it was. Someone that would be by his brother in that timeline, that Dean would want to keep a picture of. And there was a resemblance as well. It was just that his brain really didn’t want to accept that he was staring at an older version of himself. And adult Sam wasn’t in any better a position than adult Dean. But Sam didn’t see any threat and the brothers should be safe because their father was walking right in front of them. 

At least, Sam had assumed that their dad was there to save them until the man started speaking.

“I coulda killed you a hundred times today but this… this is worth the wait.”

Sam shook his head. No. Why would any version of their dad want to harm them? Sure the guy looked quite a bit grungier, but still… then he caught sight of the man’s eyes. Yellow. He was possessed by something.

“Your dad? He’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meatsuit. He says ‘hi’ by the way. He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood.”

“Let him go.” Dean growled out. “Or I swear to God…”

“What? What are you and God gonna do? You see, as far as I’m concerned, this is justice. You know that little exorcism of yours?” Now the thing that was possessing their dad moved very close to Dean and leaned in close. He spoke in almost a whisper. “That was my daughter.”

“Who?” Dean asked. “Meg?”

“The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand?”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“What? You’re the only one that can have family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family? Oh… that’s right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“You son of a bitch.” Dean spat the curse out.

Sam wanted to leave. His Dean wasn’t here. He knew that. Because he somehow just knew that the real Dean wouldn’t be a part of the experience like the memory Deans were. Yet he found himself rooted to the spot, watching and listening as the events played out.

“I want to know why.” The guy that had to be the older version of himself called out. “Why’d you do it?”

“You mean, why’d I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?”

“Yeah.”

So this had been the thing that had been responsible for destroying their family back in that other timeline. Sam hoped that it was killed… just not while it was wearing their dad.

Rather than answer, the demon with the yellow eyes turned its attention back to Dean. “You know, I never told you this, but Sam was gonna ask her to marry him. Been shopping for rings and everything.” 

Sam blinked. His older self had been in a serious relationship before all this? There was so much he’d have to ask Dean about when he finally found his brother.

Their possessed father stalked over to adult Sam. “You wanna know why? Because they got in the way.”

“In the way of what?”

“My plans for you, Sammy.” _What_? “You and all the children like you.”

What did that mean? Sam remembered the angels mentioning that he had some destiny. Even Gabriel had brought that up. But was this the same thing? Or did this demon mean him some harm? Was this demon even around in their altered timeline? Surely if Dean knew that all this could happen, this thing would be at the top of his ‘destroy’ list… Was killing it how Dean had saved their mom this time around? What did that mean for Sam?

“Listen, you mind just getting this over with?” Dean’s voice interrupted. “’Cause I really can’t stand the monologing.” 

“Funny.” The demon commented, walking back to the older brother. “But that’s all part of your MO, isn’t it? Mask all that nasty pain. Mask the truth.”

Yeah, Sam had noticed that his brother used humor to avoid stuff… Wait, had he really just agreed with a demon?

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You know, you fight and you fight for this family but the truth is; they don’t need you. Not like you need them.”

“That’s not true!” Sam blurted out. He hoped that just like in the last memory, this Dean would take notice of him. But Dean’s focus remained on his possessed father.

The demon continued to talk. “Sam… he’s clearly John’s favorite. Even when they fight, it’s more concern than he’s ever shown you.”

That couldn’t be true. Dad loved Dean too. Or were things _that_ different here.

“I bet you’re real proud of your kids too, huh?” Dean spoke up. “Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted them.”

Sam almost laughed out loud. That was Dean. Taunt the demon no matter what. But he’d have to be blind to not see that his big brother had been upset by the yellow-eyed creature’s words. 

The possessed man lowered his head, only to bring it back up seconds later. Then, without warning, Dean cried out in pain. 

“Dean!” Both Sams yelled.

Dean made small pained noises, gasped and groaned. Sam watched in horror as blood ran down his shirt, starting from somewhere around the area of his heart. He’d seen this before. When the demons had tried to kill Anderson outside the school. But there was no one here to intervene and save his brother. This creature could kill Dean right here. Bleed him out slowly and painfully. 

“No!” Adult Sam called.

“Dad!” Dean managed to get out. “Dad, don’t you let it kill me!”

“Dean!” Older Sam yelled again. 

Blood was dripping from Dean’s mouth as he gasped out “Dad, please…”

Sam found that he could finally move. He wanted to run to his big brother, but he knew that he could do nothing to help. This Dean… he was stuck in a never ending loop of pain; both physical and emotional. 

And Sam couldn’t watch anymore. The boy turned and ran to the cabin door. He threw it open and rushed outside. And prayed that the next memory would be better.


	171. Moments

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-One: Moments 

All of this, everything going on around them and everything they’d experienced thus far, was enough to make some men begin to question their belief in the existence of a God that truly cared for people. But Jim figured that his God must’ve created him to be more stubborn than that because he just couldn’t abandon his beliefs. Not even as the bodies of once-possessed humans fell to the ground around him. That bad things could, would, and were happening was not a question. But then again, no true person of faith really expected to live in a perfect world. That wasn’t the point of faith at all. If you wanted God because you felt that He was to clean up all of your messes, you really needed to reexamine yourself. God wasn’t humanity’s servant. But He _was_ there. Because if He wasn’t, then their little group wouldn’t have ever have gotten this far. But they had. With the weapons of angels and him reciting God’s words, they’d made it past several groups of their demonic enemies. 

And the shotgun filled with rock salt hadn’t hurt either. 

The most disconcerting thing however, was the knowledge that some of their foes would be from the Heavenly host itself. Yet, Jim reassured himself that if those angels were on the side of evil, then they’d turned their back on God’s plan. They were the enemy just as the demons were. But still, he figured that he’d leave the fact that he’d participated in killing angels out of next Sunday’s sermon.

Jim said the final words and watched as the demons were expelled from their human hosts and plunged back into Hell. He took a moment to catch his breath as Bill and Ellen walked over to him. 

“I think this floor is almost clear.” Bill announced.

“There’s only one more door, I believe.” Ellen agreed.

“And you won’t be reaching it.” A man standing in the doorway informed them. He entered and was followed by three others. They all drew swords like the ones that Ellen and Bill had been using. Well, they’d just encountered the angels. But they’d been prepared for this.

Jim dropped back behind the Harvelles.

“You’d do well to just let us go about our business.” Ellen warned. “As you can tell by our weapons, we have no trouble dealing with your kind.”

“I don’t know how you came across those blades, but you’d best relinquish them and surrender.”

“So you can slaughter us where we stand?” Bill questioned. “I don’t think so.”

A female angel spoke up. “We are trying to bring about paradise for all. Why do you stop us?”

“Because your paradise will mean the slaughter of millions.” Ellen shot back.

“If our Father really wishes this apocalypse, let him bring it on himself.” Jim declared. “Until that day, we will continue to do what we must to survive.”

“We fight in His name.” An angel stated.

“Oh you have no clue how many crazy-assed humans have used that excuse.” Bill chimed in. 

“Enough!” The first angel practically yelled. “This ends now. You will die, and we will continue with our work.”

“Yeah,” Jim nodded. “Have fun giving your lives in the service of your demon masters.”

“We will not be the ones giving our lives.” And that was the only warning they got as the angels came at them. 

Ellen and Bill both rushed the leader of the group, moving in such a way as to separate him from the pack. And though the angel was definitely the more skilled of the fighters, Jim had no doubt that the Harvelles would work together to defeat their opponent. Meanwhile, he backed up, leading the others further into the room.

“You are blasphemous creatures.” Jim accused, keeping their attention on himself so that they wouldn’t be tempted to join their comrade. “And when you die and spend eternity in Hell, you will realize this.” By the very angry expressions on their faces, he realized that perhaps he’d pressed things a bit too far. Oh well, at least he knew he’d succeeded. 

The three angels stalked towards him, all of them with their blades drawn. One also had his hand extended, as though he was just hoping for the opportunity to get close enough to burn the pastor from the inside out. It was a good thing that Jim wasn’t planning on giving him that chance. The man backed up, only half-faking the fear in his expression. These were powerful beings he was messing with. But once they were where he needed them to be, Jim resisted the urge to sigh in relief as he pulled out his lighter and flicked it on. 

The angel in front, noticing what was about to happen, lunged forward and slashed at him with her sword. Jim twisted to get out of the way as he dropped the lighter on the ring of holy oil. The sharp blade cut his left side as the fire sprang up around the three misled members of the Heavenly host. Jim cried out and stumbled back, clutching at the wound. He could tell that it wasn’t terrible, but it was painful.

“Are you alright?” Ellen asked, as her and Bill ran over. The pastor turned his head to see that the angel they’d been fighting had been disposed of.

As the couple reached him, Jim took his hands off the wound and saw the red coating his palms and fingers. Ellen pushed the material of his shirt out of the way to get a look.

“We’ll do a quick patch up now, but it’ll probably need some stitches when this is all over.”

“I’ll manage until then.” Jim said through clenched teeth. 

“Perhaps you will.” The female angel spoke. “But the boy you’ve come to rescue is far too gone by now. Your mission has failed before it’s begun.”

“You will always fail.” Another angel informed them. “You will all die in agony as that boy did. We will have our apocalypse.”

Ellen’s face darkened. She snatched her bottle of holy oil out of her pack and approached the ring of fire. “Really?” The female hunter doused them in the oil and lit a match. “Here’s your apocalypse. Enjoy.” Then she threw the match at them and the angels went up in flames.

Jim watched the whole thing with wide eyes. He reminded himself once again to never upset Ellen Harvelle.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam had gotten the hang of going smoothly from one memory to the next in his brother’s head. He’d enter the memory, assess if Dean was there or not (if Dean was participating in the events going on, then it was just memory-Dean) and then Sam would exit the memory by leaving the scene. He tried not to stay any longer than possible, as most of the memories were stuff he didn’t want to be seeing a lot of. Besides, it was a bit of an invasion of Dean’s privacy. Sure he wanted to know more about his brother’s life, but he’d ask him about it after this was all done; not play peeping-tom. Already he’d seen several hunts from both timelines, Dean taking care of him numerous times (also from both timelines but in the first timeline, it was depressing how Dean had been Sam’s parent, brother, teacher, babysitter, _everything_ ; yet had had no one to look out for him), Dean and him in jail (what was _that_ all about?), Dean in his early twenties making out with a girl in a bar (and boy had Sam gotten the heck out of that memory fast), and he’d just come from a memory of them fighting some freaky creatures called Leviathans. Sam had interacted with some of the Deans; one had warned him from exiting the memory a certain way. How the Dean had known that that way out was bad, Sam didn’t know, but he trusted Dean. And if Dean told him that that way out would take him into a Hell memory, then Sam was _not_ going that way. That Dean (who was about thirty or so) had held him tightly and told him to be careful where he went. He’d told him that he didn’t want Sam to see the stuff in here, that he didn’t want him to ever know this stuff. And he’d warned Sam that if he ever accidently stumbled into a Hell memory, to close his eyes and keep them closed; to not open them for anything. Sam promised that he would. 

Luckily, so far he hadn’t had to make good on that promise.

And he’d been making fast progress through the memories up until now. Now he found himself rooted to the spot in yet another God-awful cheep motel room while the older version of himself and his father were locked in a screaming match and memory Dean stood off to the side looking devastated. Sam wished that he could run forward and shake some sense into his alternate-future self. Maybe wanting to go to college wasn’t a terrible thing (even though their father was making it sound like it was the worst sin ever). But why couldn’t older Sam take a moment to see what all the arguing and talk of leaving forever was doing to Dean? 

“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!” Their dad screamed.

“Why would I even want to?” Teen Sam practically snarled.

With that, the college bound version of himself stormed out and slammed the door.

There was a brief moment of absolute silence. Sam thought about leaving as well, but it felt almost like a second betrayal to the Dean that was standing there staring at the closed door. Then their father turned on the stunned young man.

“What the hell, Dean? Why didn’t you back me up?

“Arguing with him wasn’t going to change anything, Dad.” Dean replied with a resigned voice. “He’d made his decision long ago.”

“Oh, so you’ve known?” Their dad stormed over to him and even though he wasn’t taller than Dean, he seemed to loom over his son.

“He wasn’t happy hunting, Dad. And…”

“So you wanted him to go, then?”

Dean shook his head. “No! I’m not the one that pushed him away.” 

That comment was obviously a slip. Dean’s eyes widened as the words left his mouth. But, once said, they couldn’t be taken back. Their dad grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him back into the wall. Dean let out a surprised cry.

“You have something you want to say to me?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s what I thought.” With a final slam into the cheap plaster, their dad let go of Dean. He stomped away to the door, muttering about how useless Dean was. Sam heard the front door to the motel room open and close, but kept his eye on his brother who slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

“I’m sorry.” Sam apologized.

Dean looked up. He seemed confused for a moment and then forced a smile. “No, Sammy. You don’t need to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But I… I mean, he hurt you. After everything you did for him…”

“He deserves better.”

“No one’s better than you, Dean.” Sam went to him and wrapped him in a hug. Dean hugged him back.

“I think you might be a bit confused.” Dean replied with a chuckle after a moment.

“Don’t even start with that stupid self-depreciating humor.” Sam scolded. “I’ve seen enough in here to know what you’ve done for me in both timelines. We’re a family and I should’ve at least said goodbye to you before leaving if I really felt like I _had_ to go.”

“What’s done is done.” Dean shrugged.

“Yeah well, _I’m_ gonna do it different. Okay?”

“As long as you’re happy Sam.”

“As long as we’re _both_ happy, Dean.”

“And you know, this moment might suck, but you’ve been a pretty awesome brother yourself.” Dean pointed out. 

“I don’t know, besides giving you the prize from the cereal box, I don’t ever see me doing anything for you. It’s always you giving up stuff for me. And you raising me. And I don’t even seem to notice all the stuff you do!”

Dean laughed. “You’re the little brother. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. I never wanted you to have to grow up too quickly like I did. I wanted to cook for you and help you with your homework and protect you and do all the worrying for you. But you were always cool about stuff. I guess you missed the memory where you made me a friendship bracelet in your art class. Or the one where you gave me this for Christmas.” He pointed to the amulet that he always wore. “Or the times you backed me up on hunts. Or when you pissed off Dad by giving me the Father’s Day card you made in school because you claimed that I acted more like a dad than he did.”

Sam laughed out loud. “I… I mean, he did that?”

“Yep. It was sweet… even if it put Dad in a crappy mood for a few days straight.”

“But still, _this_ …”

“This is what it is.” Dean replied. “Sam left. And you have to go now too. You have a Dean waiting in here for you.”

“I know.” Sam walked over to the door but made a point of turning to look at Dean. “Goodbye.”

“Bye, Sammy.”

Sam stepped through the door and out into the night. He took a few steps away, wondering when the scene around him would change when suddenly the sound of fireworks made him jump. The boy spun around to see bright colorful flashes lighting up the night sky. It was absolutely beautiful. And standing there, holding up lit firecrackers were a Sam and Dean probably about the same ages that he and his brother were. They were both smiling.

Memory Sam turned to Dean. “Dad would never let us do anything like this. Thanks, Dean. This is great!”

He hugged Dean, who hugged him back. “’Course, Sammy.” Then he nodded.

Sam darted forward to light the entire box of firecrackers. 

“Fire in the hole!” The boy yelled as he ran back to join his older brother. All the fireworks started going off, making a wonderful display.

Sam watched the other Sam and his brother watch the fireworks going off. After a moment, alternate timeline Sam started dancing around, hands raised high, enjoying the moment. Dean was grinning, and raised one fist in a gesture of victory.

Sam felt like he could stay in this happy memory forever. But he didn’t want to accidently disturb this joyful scene. Besides, he needed to find his Dean, pull him out of his mind, and maybe try and bring some more happy moments like this into his life.


	172. Check and Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dark chapter ahead...

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Two: Check and Mate 

Rufus was getting too damned old for this. Hunting was one thing. But this… this wasn’t hunting. This was a damned war. A war between themselves and two armies both far more powerful and he was just for too old for this sort of crap. So why in the hell had he let Singer talk him into joining this mission? Mission. Yep. A hunter like him should most definitely keep away from anything that could be labeled a ‘mission’. Next time his phone rang he was just gonna pull out his gun, shoot the damned thing, pick up his drink, and go about his business. 

And he’d make certain to tell Bobby all of this if he ever saw the man again. They’d gotten split up when a demon had used its powers to bring the ceiling down in one of the rooms. Rufus and Caleb had made it back out the door, but the other hunter had been cut off from them. Singer had yelled that he was injured but alright and that the far wall was damaged enough that he’d go through there and find a way to meet back up with them. Rufus hoped that that would be the case. Sure Bobby still had that magic knife, but it was piss poor protection if he got swarmed by demons and worth crap if the angels showed up. 

The older hunter limped down the hall, following Caleb as they tried to determine where the last member of their party could be. The floor wasn’t cleared yet but Rufus was hesitant to keep up the battles without knowing that his hunting buddy was okay. Besides, crappy little knife or not, a third man in their group was a definite plus. And Bobby spoke the best Latin of any of them.

“I hear a bunch of footsteps in the stairwell.” Caleb spoke up. “Sounds like they’re heading up.”

“Well great. Less we gotta deal with.”

“Who’s above us?”

Rufus shrugged. “Don’t matter. We concentrate on the third floor and that’s it.”

Caleb nodded. Rufus knew damned well who was up there. The Winchesters were taking the ground floor and was the only group that was going to work their way down. The Harvelles should be on the second floor by now, but there was no way that their team would’ve passed Rufus. So that left the archangel, the freaky cop guy, and the Winchester kid. Team Weird. But except for the kid (who had no damned right being on this mission in the first place because if Rufus was too old then that child was most certainly too young) that group could certainly handle themselves. Rufus hadn’t been there when cop guy had done whatever he’d done to the angels in the Roadhouse, but he’d heard the stories. You put a freak like that with an archangel and there was a team that could handle itself. As far as he was concerned, if the little boy hadn’t been with them, the whole lot of demons and angels should’ve been sent their way. But he didn’t say any of this to Caleb. The young man would only then worry needlessly about the kid upstairs instead of keeping his head in the game.

They were almost to the corner when they heard voices.

“…and you’re certain?”

“Yes. The Winchesters are still down there, sir.”

“If you are wrong, we are taking a trip together when this is all over. Do you understand?”

“No… I mean, yes. I understand. They are there.”

“Good. Join the others upstairs. Something is happening there. I will be up to join you as soon as I have the boy’s parents.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rufus grabbed Caleb and pulled him back, stumbling a bit as his bleeding, injured leg tried to give out on him.

“We need to hide, boy. Call Team 1.” That had to be Alastair. And Rufus was not dumb enough to believe that his old ass and this young punk hunter could take him out alone. 

The older hunter ducked into one of the rooms… nope it was a tiny, smelly closet… and dragged Caleb in after him. They listened as the demon came closer.

“Is that Alastair?” Caleb whispered.

“Yep.” Rufus hissed.

“We need to take him out.”

“You need to shut it.” He placed a hand over the young hunter’s mouth. 

Rufus literally held his breath as Alastair passed their rather pathetic hiding spot. He expected that any second the demon would use its powers to swing the door open and gut them both. But nothing happened. He relaxed. That was a mistake.

As soon as Rufus dropped his hands, Caleb pulled away and pushed out of the small closet. If his plan had been to surprise Alastair, it had failed. The demon was standing much further down the hall, but was turned to face in their direction.

Rufus tried to follow the other hunter, but this time his leg _did_ give out and he collapsed to the ground. Stupid wound was going to cost them both their lives. 

Caleb held the angel blade up and rushed the demon. Alastair stood still and looked somewhat bored.

“ _This_ is the great rescue team? I’d think that a boy that could hold out being tortured by _me_ for three weeks would be worth more than an old and broken hunter and someone playing with toys they don’t even know how to use properly. You’re barely worth my time.”

“You won’t think that when I cut your head from your body, you monster.” Caleb spat.

“Uninteresting dialogue as well.” The demon sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” 

Caleb swung the blade. It would’ve cleaved the bastard’s head clean off, but for the fact that it stopped just an inch before connecting with the skin. Alastair smiled a creepy smile.

“What the…” Caleb stuttered.

“Check and mate.” The angel blade sprung back and slammed lengthwise right into the young hunter’s chest. Caleb’s eyes went wide.

“No!” Rufus yelled. 

Alastair turned and winked at him even as Caleb fell to the ground. “I’ll let the others finish you off. I have places to be. And frankly, this…” He gestured to Rufus. “Is far too easy to bring me any type of pleasure.”

Rufus tried to stand. He wanted rush at the demon and tear it apart. The old hunter knew he couldn’t, but maybe in that moment he just wanted the damned thing to kill him too. But his leg still wouldn’t support him.

As Alastair strolled off, Rufus dragged himself over to Caleb. He hoped that the young man was still alive. He wasn’t really that great with first aid stuff, but he might be able to do something to help until someone more experienced arrived. Hell, maybe he could keep the kid breathing until that stupid angel showed up and healed him.

But when he reached the body, he knew that the kid was gone. The blade was buried deep in his chest; through the ribs and the young man’s heart. Caleb wasn’t even able to choke out any final words like they always did in those crappy horror flicks. 

Rufus stared at the body of his fallen ally and then heard the footsteps of what had to be the demons that Alastair had promised would finish him off. 

Yeah, he really was too damned old for this.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam had gotten tired of traveling from memory to memory with no real direction. And really, shouldn’t there be some sort of order to all of this? Like, the memories should be organized from newest to oldest. Or happiest, then saddest, then scariest, etc. Or at the very least separate the two timelines. But no. Everything was a jumble. It was exhausting. 

But more so, it was mentally and emotionally exhausting to see all the crap that his brother had been through. And all the stuff that he himself would’ve had to go through if Dean hadn’t come back to change things. Sam still didn’t have all the facts. Heck, he doubted that he had even a small fraction of them, but from what he’d seen, he was supposed to have demon blood in him, at some point he had freaky powers because of drinking even more demon blood (gross), at one time he was gone and his brother was living with some woman named Lisa and her son and Dean seemed to be mourning him, and there was even once where something had led to him beating Dean brutally and trying to strangle him. What had happened… what was supposed to have happened in their lives that would have led to stuff like that?

Sam wasn’t sure. But he needed to know. Because he couldn’t go through any of that. Seeing it was bad enough, but _living through it_? Nope. And while he trusted Dean to stop the outside influences from messing up their lives, memory Dean had said it himself; Sam was Sam. And he was afraid that if circumstances turned on him, he’d find himself with his hands around Dean’s throat. The very thought of that made him shiver. Never. He would never turn on his brother. And if he knew what had caused all that bad stuff to happen back in that timeline, then he could avoid making those mistakes himself.

But to do any of that, he’d have to find Dean. Which was proving to be close to impossible. 

Sam had decided that he was going to take a rest in the next memory that he got to, but as he stood there, he thought that perhaps he should run as fast as he could out of the area and take his break in the following one. Because wherever he was now looked like some place out of a nightmare. The colors were all muted and dark and he was in a smallish clearing surrounded by dense forest. And in the middle of the open area was an adult memory Dean, covered in cuts, bruises, and blood, fighting off several nasty creatures with a wicked looking weapon. The whole scene was just frightening. 

As Sam watched, Dean decapitated one of his opponents, kicking another back and away, while simultaneously smashing his fist into a third’s face. That thing growled, but not for long. Dean swung the sharp weapon around and cleaved its head off. He ducked as a weapon similar to what he was holding was swiped at him. Dean stayed low and ran at the creature that had tried to kill him. Sam watched his brother tackle the thing to the ground and use that momentum to drive his blade through its neck. But the one that he’d kicked away earlier was approaching him from behind.

“Dean! Look out!” Sam yelled.

The entire scene froze as the memory Dean turned his head to look at Sam. A tired grin split his face.

“Hey, Sammy.”

The older brother got up off the dead creature and dropped his weapon to the ground. He quickly crossed the distance between them and leaned down to wrap Sam in a tight hug. The boy returned the gesture. Up close, he noted how ragged Dean really looked. 

When the embrace ended, the brothers stepped back. “Where are we Dean?”

Dean shrugged. “A memory. Thought you’d figured that out already. You’re the smart one after all.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Purgatory.”

“ _This_ is Purgatory? What happened? How’d you get here? How do you get home? Where am I?”

“Whoa there, Sammy. You’re using up all your twenty questions in one breath.” Dean laughed. “Short story; I killed a Dick and got transported here when he exploded. Don’t know how to get out. You were far enough away to not get caught in the whatever that brought Cas and I to this place.”

“Cas is here?” Sam looked around but didn’t see their friend.

Dean looked upset for a moment. “Somewhere. We… uh got separated when I first got here. I’m looking for him. Then we’ll find a way home.”

“Oh. Wow… this is… is it like _this_ ,” Sam gestured to the creatures, both dead and frozen in their attack positions. “all the time?”

His brother shrugged. “No, sometimes they attack in larger groups.”

“Really?”

“But sometimes I get a break and only have to take out a couple.”

“How have you survived?”

“Just that awesome.” Dean threw him a wink.

Sam laughed. “Well, that’s true. Never met a better hunter. But don’t tell the others that. Don’t want any hurt feelings.”

“Who am _I_ going to tell? I’m just a memory, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Sam chuckled at his slip. He was missing his brother so much that he sometimes forgot that these Deans were only part of his Dean, not really Dean. That thought had him making a decision. He could rest when he found his Dean. But for now he’d keep going. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to… you know… _that_.”

Dean nodded. “It was good to see you Sam. Take care.”

“You too.”

Sam turned and took off through the woods, hoping that he was getting closer to his goal.


	173. Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A bit of disturbing imagery...

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Three: Close 

When the first few demons threw open the door and rushed in to attack, Scott was ready. He’d pretty much been expecting something to come for them from the moment that he was ‘left alone’, but at first all had been quiet.

The cop had wandered around the room, trying to determine if there was anything that he should do in preparation. He’d contemplated getting a back up weapon besides his gun, but dismissed that quickly. He didn’t want to try and handle Gabriel’s angel blade, that was for sure. Scott hadn’t had any practice with sword fighting and going after demons with a weapon like that would certainly end in his death. He’d glanced at all the tools in the room, hanging from the walls and placed on the tray, and he didn’t even want to try and comprehend what some of them were used for, let alone pick them up. Besides, while he wasn’t that bad in an old fashioned fist fight, if it was him against a supernaturally powered foe, he was going to lose pitifully even if he was armed with something sharp. Never bring a knife to a power fight. So, he decided to just use the angel grace he had in him. He’d try his best to ration it out and make it last. 

He’d drawn some devil’s traps and then wondered if they’d even do anything in a room like this with other magics at work. Oh well. Scott wouldn’t depend on them, but he also knew that they couldn’t hurt. 

As he’d walked around, never taking his attention too much from the door or his companions, the officer caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the shiny surface of a rather large well-polished blade hanging from the wall. Scott stopped to stare. Yep, Sam had been right. His eyes looked freaky as all hell. The irises were glowing steadily and after a second, the young cop looked away. He had a feeling that if he ran into some of the other hunters right now, they might shoot first and ask questions later. Scott just hoped that after he used up all of the angel grace inside of himself, that his appearance would go back to normal so that he could go back to pretending that he was normal. Also, something like this might be a bit difficult to explain at work…

Of course, that was if he lived through this experience.

And Scott started to wonder about those chances as five demons pushed their way into the room and he heard more coming down the hall. Five… yeah, he’d use one of the graces now as opposed to waiting for more to show up. If the next group was the same amount, he’d be able to take them all out with one grace. But if the next group was say… a dozen, Scott wasn’t entirely sure that one would have enough power to eradicate them all. Of course, since he really knew next to nothing about how any of this worked, the cop was kind of making it all up as he went along. But either way, he didn’t want to try and keep five demons busy while he waited for their buddies to show up.

Scott focused on the energy inside of his body. At first it all felt like one warm cloud flowing through him, but if he thought about it hard enough, the officer could actually feel where one ended and the next began. It was like they were each a slightly different temperature and texture. Strange. 

Three demons went for Gabriel and Sam, who were both just froze in position next to Dean, while the other two started to approach Scott. The young man didn’t give any of them time to get close to their targets. He held up his hand to try and focus the grace he wanted to use and then went through the now familiar process of releasing the angel energy to extract and then fry the demons. Five unconscious bodies dropped to the ground. Scott watched the process with fascination. 

He had no time after the first encounter, however, because the ones he’d heard before entered next. And there were eight of them. No, ten. Okay, he could handle that. One raised its hand and used its powers to push Scott back and into the wall. The cop hit hard and winced as his skull impacted with the concrete surface. Did every demon love that party trick? 

Four of the demons made a beeline for Scott’s partners, but they didn’t get very far. Huh. It looked like his devil’s trap worked after all. 

As one of the demons picked out a rather nasty looking weapon from the wall and began to approach him, another spoke up from behind.

“Uh, hey… look at that guy’s eyes? What’s wrong with him?”

“You’re one to talk about eye problems.” Scott countered. “At least mine aren’t black.” 

“What’s up with you?” The demon approaching him asked. “Tell me or I’ll carve you into pieces.”

“You were going to do that anyway.” The cop reminded him. “But hey, no need for threats. I’m more than happy to share.”

With no further notice than that, since he’d separated a grace by that point and was ready, Scott took out all ten demons in the room. 

Once they were gone, he found himself released from the power that had been pinning him from the wall. He also found that he wanted to collapse to the floor along with the once possessed bodies. Apparently channeling angel grace through his body was tiring work.

And speaking of the bodies on the ground, he had to do something about them. They were going to pile up fast. Scott started dragging them one at a time to the far corner of the room. By the time he’d moved six of them, he was exhausted, but the devil’s trap was clear and the door was too. He sat on the floor to take a quick break. Why couldn’t demons just possess short skinny guys?

He’d had almost no time to rest when more demons came. Scott got to his feet and was ready for them. The third group was dealt with with no problems at all, but the fourth entered the room in two waves and while the cop was in the middle of burning up the mass of demons that had initially swarmed in, he found himself thrown against the wall by one of the three stragglers. And this time, as his body was slammed full force against the cement, he felt a sharp burst of agony in his right shoulder. Scott cried out in pain. He looked down and saw the edge of a sharp pointed weapon poking straight through his shoulder. Damn. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes. He had to try and ignore the pain. He had to. The demons needed to be dealt with before they killed him. Or the others. The others…

Scott opened his eyes to look over at where Gabriel, Sam, and Dean were, still oblivious to all that was going on around them. The devil’s traps in front of their position had kept them safe so far, but now one of the demons had noticed the protection and had an evil grin on its face. Scott tried to focus to pull out the demons but the pain was making it difficult. Then the demon reached its hand out and several sharp objects were snatched off the walls and went flying towards the Winchester boys and Gabriel. No.

Acting on pure instinct, Scott reached his good arm out and suddenly all the sharp tools started to glow, then they turned in midair and buried themselves in the demons. The creatures screamed and burned from the inside out. The cop had no clue what he had done, nor did he ever really want to do that again, but it had worked. 

With the demons disposed of, Scott started to slide down the wall in sheer exhaustion, but groaned in pain as the weapon that was still buried in his shoulder pulled against his muscle and flesh. The cop focused on staying on his feet so that he wouldn’t rip apart the limb more. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as further down his arm, the muscles and nerves there that had been damaged during his very first encounter with demons spasmed as though in sympathy. The police officer knew that often times victims that were stabbed or impaled were advised not to remove the object as it would increase blood loss, but it wasn’t like he could just stay there pinned to the wall for the rest of the time. And if he lost his footing, the weapon would cause much worse damage. Beside, even if the thing wasn’t attached to the wall, Scott couldn’t leave a weapon in his shoulder where an opponent could use it against him. The best he could do would be to get the damned thing out and try to stop the bleeding. They had a small first aid kit. It would have to do.

Taking a deep breath, Scott bit his lip, put his good hand back to brace against the wall, and stepped forward. As bad as the pain was, he didn’t stop until he found himself on his knees a few feet away from the wall. Luckily, except for his own harsh breathing, he didn’t hear anything. It seemed like there was a small break in the fight. 

The cop made his way to the bag that he’d left near the others. He tore through it one handed and snatched up the first aid kit. Scott had just started to pull out the necessary items when he heard footsteps approaching. Oh crap. These guys had really bad timing.

With a sigh, Scott ripped open a gauze pad and held it to the wound. Yeah, that really didn’t do much, but anything more would have to wait. 

As the demons stepped through the doorway, the policeman looked up at them. He didn’t even bother getting to his feet. Scott had five more angel graces in him and he was going to use one more right now to take these creatures out. Then hopefully he’d turn his attention back to stopping the bleeding. And by then there’d be more demons. But he couldn’t worry about that right now. He concentrated on the power inside of himself. He had a job to do.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Memory Dean was sitting on the bed of the motel room looking over at the sleeping baby on the other bed. He had his knees pulled up and his arms wrapped around them. Sam didn’t think he’d ever seen his brother with such long hair before. It looked kind of cute, but completely un-Dean. The small boy’s clothes didn’t fit him well; the child had obviously gone through a growth spurt or two since they were bought. 

Sam watched as their father walked around the room. Well, practically raced around the room. He was more like a whirlwind than a person. After a moment he turned to face the boy sitting on the bed.

“I’ll be gone most of the day, Dean. You know where the food is. No snacking, though. We don’t have that much. Just eat lunch. And make sure that Sammy gets his food. Don’t answer the phone or the door for anyone. Okay?”

Dean nodded.

John sighed. “Dean, this is getting old, buddy. You need to talk. I heard you whisper to Sammy last night. You told him you loved him. I heard that Dean. You can talk. I need you to stop this and to actually talk.”

Dean bit his lip and nodded. 

“It’s like talking to a freaking wall!” John exclaimed. “I can’t take this! I can’t! I lost her too, Dean! I don’t need this!”

“Sorry, Daddy.” Dean whispered almost inaudibly, tears streaming down his face.

John stopped mid-rant. He sighed. “No, I’m sorry, buddy. But you gotta be a big boy now. Because Sammy’s gonna be looking up to you. So you gotta be strong, Dean. Okay?”

Dean nodded. “’Kay.” He whispered in a broken voice.

“That’s my big guy. I’ll be back later. Take care of Sammy.”

Sam watched as their father walked out the door. He wanted to run after the man and beat the hell after him. How dare he treat a traumatized child like that? 

Sam walked up to the bed where the small Dean was trying hard to stop himself from crying.

“It’s okay to cry.” He told Dean.

Dean looked up at him, seemingly confused. “Who… Sammy?”

Sam wondered briefly how a Dean that only knew him as a baby could possibly recognized him. “Yeah.”

“I can’t cry, Sammy.” Dean explained in a tiny voice. “I’m the big brother. I gotta take care of you. I gottta…”

Sam picked up the small child and for once he held Dean in his arms. He sat down on the bed, cradling the boy close to his chest. “You should’ve been taken care of, Dean. This childhood was so screwed up. All of this is just… Hey! You’re talking pretty well.”

“’Cause I’m with you. And I actually was talking a little to baby Sammy sometimes at nights if he’d cry. Never more than a couple words, ‘cause the words get stuck in my throat when I try. It all hurts since Mommy died.”

“And Dad shouldn’t talk to you like that. He shouldn’t push. You’re just four years old…”

“Five.”

“Five?”

“Uh huh. Today’s my birthday.”

“Oh.” Sam had no clue what to say to that. He’d grown up in a house where birthdays were big events. They never took hunts on birthdays or holidays. And certainly would never leave a small child alone after screaming at him and making him cry on such a special day. “Well, happy birthday, Dean.”

The boy’s face lit up. “Thanks! You know, all the times I’ve lived through this memory, I’ve never heard that.”

“Well, I’m sure if baby Sammy could say it, he would.”

“I love you, Sammy.”

“Love you too, Dean. But I have to go now. I need to find… uh, Dean.”

“I know.”

Sam got up and gently placed the small boy back down on the bed. He kissed the child on the head and then exited the room through the hotel door without looking back. He couldn’t bear to see the pathetic excuse for a fifth birthday that his brother had lived through the first time around.

Sam knew the moment that he stepped through and closed the door that something was wrong. But the door had disappeared behind him so it wasn’t like he could run back in. No matter how much he wanted to. Because all around him he was surrounded by dark cave-like walls that seemed to almost flicker in the heat. The whole place smelled of sulfur and there were distant screams coming from everywhere. Hell. Sam knew that he was in one of Dean’s Hell memories.

As he had promised (and because he _really_ didn’t want to see any of this) Sam shut his eyes tightly. The boy started walking forward, trying not to breathe too deeply as the hot, acidic air was awful. After a few dozen steps, Sam walked right into a wall. He turned right and continued on his way. Then he winced as he heard Dean’s scream pierce the air. It reminded him of his brother crying out when he’d been hallucinating in Maine. Yet this was so much worse. Another scream. Followed by a chilling laugh. Sam clapped his hands over his ears just in time to walk into another wall. He turned again and started in that direction.

Sam wandered like this for quite a while. But he felt like he was getting nowhere. With his eyes shut he couldn’t see where he was going and couldn’t find his way out of this memory. He’d be stuck here listening to his brother being tortured forever. Yet he just couldn’t open his eyes. Thanks to Anderson he’d been spared seeing what Dean had looked like in the direct aftermath of Alastair’s torture, but if he were to see inside this Hell memory he risked viewing something a million times worse. So he was in a no-win situation.

“Dean!” He called out. “Dean! I need help!” Sam knew that it was a long shot. In previous intense memories, the memory Deans had sometimes been oblivious to anything Sam had said or done, they had been so lost in the moment. And this Dean was being brutally tortured. But that first memory Dean had told him that no Dean would ignore a Sam that needed help. Sam prayed now that that was true. “Dean! Please, I’m lost in here. I need you.”

Suddenly a hand fell on his shoulder and Sam yelped in surprise. “It’s okay, Sammy.” A rough voice reassured. “It’s just me.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah.” He sounded tired. Awful. Yet, it was the best voice Sam had ever heard.

“I can’t find my way out, Dean. I don’t wanna open my eyes but I can’t get out.” He explained in a rush.

A hand touched his face, sticky with blood yet comforting. “You did good, Sammy. Just keep your eyes shut tight. Don’t look. You don’t need to see any of this. I’ll lead you out of here, okay?”

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam reached up and grasped the hand that had been touching his face. Once it was in his hand, he realized that several fingers were severely broken and the little finger was missing. Oh god… 

Dean took the lead, Sam holding his ruined hand and following along. He could tell that his brother’s steps were uneven and that the older Winchester was shuffling but he didn’t say anything. He wondered how much it had taken for Dean to be able to get up and away from whatever was happening to him to come and help out.

“Thank you, Sammy.”

“What? Me? For what?”

“Coming this far. For me.”

“If I understand everything right, you went to Hell for me.” Sam responded. 

“You’re my brother.” Dean brushed it off.

“And you’re mine.” Sam replied.

“Still…” Dean paused his steps for a moment. Then he took a deep rattling breath before continuing both his unsteady walk and his talking. “It means a lot.”

“You mean a lot, Dean. To me. And yeah, I’m gonna make sure to tell Dean that when I see him.”

“He’s close.”

“What?” Sam almost made the mistake of opening his eyes, he was so shocked. None of the Deans had ever let on that they knew anything about where Dean was. 

“Maybe in the next memory, or the following one. Not sure. But I can feel him close. And I know he passed through here.” Dean coughed a wet sounding cough. “Go now. He’s waiting. He just doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. He needs you. Take a couple steps forward and you’ll be out of here.”

Sam felt awful knowing that as soon as he was gone, this Dean would be back to being tortured over and over again for the rest of eternity, but he had to go. His Dean needed him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sammy. Anytime.”

“I know.”

Sam kept his eyes shut, released his hold on his brother’s blood-slick hand, and stepped forward. He knew now that he was close. He knew now that he was going to rescue Dean very soon. Sam had a lot to pay him back for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I won't be around tomorrow or on Christmas, so to get in the holiday spirit, I posted a one-shot called 'A Miracle in Motel Room 34'. Check it out if you want.


	174. Real

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Four: Real 

_Dean was alive. Her son was alive and had been found. He was going to be okay._ Those were the thoughts that kept running through Mary’s head even as she fought for her life against the demons that wanted her dead. Elsewhere in the room, Castiel and John were facing down the other demons and a couple of angels. Castiel had tried to convince ‘his brothers’ to change their ways at first, but that hadn’t worked at all. Not that Mary had suspected that it would. And the fight had started.

But during the battle, when they were struggling to survive, she heard that wonderful message. “Team one, this is team 4. Objective one positive.”

She’d almost cried with relief at Anderson’s announcement. And that had been all she’d thought of since. How she’d survived fighting demon after demon was a mystery to her since she couldn’t actually recall doing any of it. She was just going through the motions while her mind raced with the information that her son had been located and was alive. But alive didn’t necessarily mean alright. Dean had been tortured for three whole weeks. What if he was in such terrible condition that he’d never recover? No. She wouldn’t think like that. Mary would hold out hope that Dean was okay until she was proven otherwise. 

“Mary, get down!” 

The hunter dropped to the floor at her husband’s command and heard the Colt go off. A demon fell to the floor dead. 

“Thanks.” She offered, getting to her feet.

“You’re not paying attention.” He accused, but with no real heat to his voice.

Mary looked around the now clear room. Had it been that obvious? She thought she’d done alright. “I did well enough.” She protested.

“I know what’s on your mind. But how will he feel to find out that you died on this rescue mission?”

Awful. Crushed. Guilty beyond belief. “Alright. I’ll try harder to focus on the job at hand.”

“This floor is now empty.” Castiel announced. Mary knew that he’d heard their entire exchange but wasn’t commenting on it. She was thankful for that. She was even more thankful for the change of subject. “We should head downstairs to the basement. We now know that Dean isn’t down there but still…” Suddenly, his eyes widened.

“Cas?” John prompted.

“What’s wrong?” Mary asked.

“This floor is no longer empty. Alastair is headed towards us.”

Alastair. Mary wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about that. On the one hand, she was terrified and knowing what this monster was capable of, she was concerned for their group’s safety. The powerful demon was a definite threat, even with an angel on their team and the Colt in their possession. But on the other hand, Mary was looking forward to the upcoming confrontation. She’d wanted to kill the bastard ever since finding out that he’d been the thing to torture her son in Hell for forty years. And now he had even more to answer for. 

And apparently John felt the same. When she glanced over at him, she saw an expression of pure contempt and hatred on his face as he made sure that the Colt was fully loaded. And a look at Castiel showed that the angel was prepared for the confrontation too. Of course he was. Of the three of them, he was one that comprehended what Dean had suffered through the most. 

So it was settled. No matter how dangerous this white-eyed freak was, these were going to be his final moments of existence. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam was glad to be out of Hell. He knew the moment that he was out because the air was cooler and that awful smell of sulfur was gone. The boy wondered how long Dean had been trapped in such a terrible place. Even the short amount of time he’d been there had been far too long and nothing bad had really happened to him. 

“Dean, they’re right. I’m infected. Just give me the gun and I’ll do it myself.” 

Sam opened his eyes as he heard the voice that he now recognized as his older self. He saw the memory Sam sitting on an exam table of sorts and looking upset. Sam tried to process the words. Gun. Infected. Was he talking about shooting himself? He waited for memory Dean’s protest, which would certainly come next. But after a moment of silence, the older Sam spoke again.

“Dean, I’m not gonna become one of those things!”

Sam turned to try and see if the Dean had given some sort of non-verbal response. But he didn’t see his brother where memory Sam was looking. 

“Time for what?” Some guy suddenly exclaimed, as if responding to someone. “Look I understand he’s your brother and I’m sorry. I am.” The man pulled a gun. “But I gotta take care of this.”

Sam looked around frantically for where his brother could be. The guy was addressing Dean. Adult Sam had too. And with all this going on, Dean would certainly protect his little brother. Besides, this was _Dean’s_ memory. He had to be here.

Sam caught sight of his older brother at about the same time that he heard the other Sam call out Dean’s name. The guy that had been talking earlier started up again, but Sam ignored him and focused instead on the young man that was huddled in the corner of the room. 

Dean was sitting there with his knees drawn up and his chin resting on them, staring off into nothing. He seemed completely removed from the entire scene going on around him. And that was wrong somehow. Dean should be threatening the guy that wanted to kill that Sam. Hell, he should be yelling at that Sam for even thinking about killing himself over whatever was going on. Not sitting in the corner like this. And then there was the fact that everyone was proceeding like Dean was actually interacting with them. The whole scenario was weird. Completely different than anything he’d encountered thus far. Which could only mean one thing.

He’d finally found his brother.

The sound of the door closing and locking had Sam turn to look behind him. The room was now empty except for himself, memory Sam, and Dean. Sam stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to approach his brother now that he’d found him.

“Dean, don’t do this. Just get the hell outta here.”

Sam wondered why Dean had stopped here, in this memory. It didn’t seem like a pleasant one. 

“Give me my gun and leave.” Memory Sam ordered. After a few seconds, he violently punched the exam table he was sitting on, causing Sam to jump in surprise. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done!”

A glance over at Dean showed no movement at all from the older Winchester. 

“Dean, I’m sick. It’s over for me. It doesn’t have to be for you… No. You can keep going.”

Sam started to approach Dean, thinking that it’d be best to maybe talk to him quietly rather than announce his presence loudly. After all, Sam’s older brother seemed to be in a state of shock or something.

“Who says I want to?” 

Sam almost gasped as Dean’s voice came out in a ragged whisper. The young man never let his gaze stray from the fixed point of nowhere, but his words were clear. 

“What?” Memory Sam asked.

“Dean?” Sam questioned.

“I’m tired, Sam.” Dean admitted. Sam had a feeling that not only was that part of the memory, but also a statement of his current state of mind. As he watched, a single tear fell from his older brother’s eye. Dean didn’t even seem to notice.

“So what? You’re just gonna give up? I mean, you’re just gonna lay down and die?” The adult Sam kept going, but Sam paid him no mind. Dean didn’t need to be yelled at right now, he needed help.

“I get why you’re tired, Dean. You’ve been through a lot. If anyone deserves a rest, it’s you. But staying here isn’t the best option. Please come back to me. I can’t promise that crap won’t happen, but I _can_ promise that we’ll face it together.”

Dean blinked, looking confused. He closed his eyes tightly, opened them, and then went from staring off into nothing to looking all around in an instant. When his line of sight fell on Sam, Dean’s brow wrinkled and he shook his head. Sam saw him look around the room again, as if to confirm that he was still in the same place. He understood; Dean must’ve thought that he was in a different memory for a moment.

“What…”

“Hi, Dean.” Sam smiled. Then he darted forward and wrapped his arms around the older boy… well, man.

There was a moment’s pause and then Dean held him back uncertainly. “Sammy? I… I don’t understand…”

“It’s me, Dean. It’s really me.” Sam started to explain. “There was a rescue party, and we found you, but you wouldn’t wake up, so Gabriel got me inside your head so that I could help you. And here I am. And now maybe you can wake up and…”

Dean started to shake his head. “No… no, you can’t be real. Sammy can’t be in here. There’s too much crap in my head that… no…”

“I know, Dean. About you. Gabriel told me the truth. I know how old you really are and that you’re from the future… sort of. And I saw…”

He was cut off as Dean pulled away from him and clasped his hands first over his ears, as if to deny the truth, and then started to grasp at his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

Okay, perhaps dumping all this on him when he was obviously in an emotionally compromised situation wasn’t the best idea.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

He’d said the lines again. And again. And again. Hell, Dean had lost count of how many times he’d admitted out loud just how damned tired he was. And with each time he grew just that much more exhausted. He couldn’t bring himself to even look at the scene playing out around him anymore and most of the words and actions were meaningless. But every time it got to that one point, Dean felt compelled to participate. To confess to himself yet again just how pathetic he truly was.

But this time he got a response. A real response. Not just the loop recording of the memory. 

A young voice spoke to him about how he had the right to feel tired but that he couldn’t stay here. And that even if bad things happened, they’d face it together. Words of comfort and hope. Stuff that _did not_ belong here.

Dean broke out of his exhausted trance that he’d been in for so long that he’d almost forgotten what it was like outside of that state. And when he looked around, he saw Sammy. Not Sam. Sammy. And he didn’t belong here. Dean checked to make certain that he was still in the same memory (surely he couldn’t be anywhere else) and confirmed that yes, he hadn’t moved. 

“What…” It was weird to talk. To say words outside of his scripted confession.

“Hi, Dean.”

Suddenly he found himself with his arms full of the small boy. Sammy was holding him tightly and Dean couldn’t fight back the desire to return the hug, but his arms responded without any certainty. After all, this couldn’t possibly be Sammy. That was impossible. Right?

“Sammy? I… I don’t understand…”

“It’s me, Dean. It’s really me. There was a rescue party, and we found you, but you wouldn’t wake up, so Gabriel got me inside your head so that I could help you. And here I am. And now maybe you can wake up and…”

As the words sank in and started to make a horrible sort of sense, Dean shook his head. “No… no, you can’t be real. Sammy can’t be in here. There’s too much crap in my head that… no…”

“I know, Dean. About you. Gabriel told me the truth. I know how old you really are and that you’re from the future… sort of. And I saw…”

_NO_! Oh God, no. Dean clapped his hands over his ears not wanting to hear any more. But it was too late because he’d already heard too much. No… _Sammy_ had heard too much. Dean pulled his hands from his ears and ran them through his hair, grasping at the short strands, yanking and pulling as his mind raced. Sammy knew. Sammy knew. His brother knew all about him. No. It was worse. Sammy had _seen_ stuff. Because Dean wasn’t that far gone that he didn’t realize that if he’d had to travel through several memories to get here, then Sammy had had to as well. His brother was going to hate him. It was over. Damn it. 

Then there were hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at his younger brother. Dean really didn’t want to see what would be on the boy’s face, what would be reflected in his eyes, but he decided that he had to suck it up and just do it. But when he did, he was surprised at what he saw. Sammy smiled at him when their eyes met, and there was nothing even close to the fear, hatred, and disgust that Dean had been expecting.

“Hey, Dean. Stay with me. I’m sorry to dump all this on you. I know it’s not fair. None of this is. But I was just trying to help.”

Dean shook his head. “I never wanted you to know about this, Sammy. Any of this. And you certainly weren’t supposed to _see_ it.”

“But… how do you carry all of this all alone, Dean? ‘Cause I know you haven’t told Mom and Dad everything. And Cas wasn’t there for the first twenty-some-odd years of your life. Don’t you ever just want to talk?”

Dean let out a short laugh. “Not into the whole chick flick moment, Sammy.”

His brother made a face. “I’m not saying we have to paint each other’s nails and gossip or stuff, but talking about the fact that you’re ready to explode some days is perfectly acceptable even for tough guys, Dean.”

Dean gave him a look that lost a bit of its power when he visibly shook. Damn, this entire experience was getting to him. “Sammy, I’m not going to lean on my little brother that I swore to protect. I wanted to spare you from all this crap.”

“And who protects you? Who spares you from crap?”

“That’s not your job.”

“It can be.” Sam looked hopeful. “It should be. I mean, you’ve done so much for me in both timelines and I just want to do the same.”

“You have.” Dean shrugged. “You’ve done a lot of good, Sammy.”

“I want to do a lot of good for _you_ , Dean.” Sam stated. 

Dean snorted. “Right. Even after seeing all this? After seeing how badly I screwed everything up?”

Sam looked confused. “Everything got screwed up because of stuff you couldn’t control, Dean. Not because of you.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. This was weird. He’d been expecting a completely different reaction. “So… you don’t hate me?”

“Hate you? You’re my brother. My big brother who apparently has been looking out for me for over forty years counting both timelines. Dean, I love you.”

Dean smiled, relieved. Then he smirked. “Yeah, that was totally a chick flick moment.”

Sam grinned. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Look, we have a lot to talk about. And I have so many questions because there’s so much that I just don’t understand and I’d really rather hear the answers from you than by trying to piece together the stuff I saw in here all by myself anyways. But that has to wait. ‘Cause Gabriel’s waiting to escort us back out into the real world.”

Now Dean was back to being confused. “What?”

“You stopped angels from coming into your memories. Probably a good move since there’s a bunch of bad ones out there right now, but Gabriel couldn’t come in here. So, he’s waiting for us in your dream area. You need to take us there so we can all wake up.”

“Wait… we’re still in the place where I was being held?”

“Yeah. And Anderson’s watching our backs all by himself, so we gotta…”

“What the hell are you doing on the rescue team?” Dean demanded. “I thought they’d brought me back home and that’s how you got in here!”

Sam shook his head. “Nope. I came along ‘cause I knew you’d need me. And I was right.”

“Sammy…”

“Look, you can yell at me later, Dean. But we gotta wake up now.”

Dean nodded. It was far too dangerous to stay here if it meant that Sam was unconscious out there with Alastair, Zachariah, and a bunch of other douche-bags running around. He needed to get back out of his mind and rejoin the real world. 

“C’mon then, Sammy. Let’s go find Gabe and get out of here. I gotta kick his ass for sharing my secrets anyways.”

Sam smiled. “Positive thinking, huh?”

Dean returned the grin. “Definitely.”

And he tried to think positively. He really did. As Dean held his little brother’s hand and concentrated on removing them from the world of memories and watched as the scene around them began to dissolve into fog, he struggled to shake off the feelings of despair and tiredness that had overcome him for so long. He’d need to be at his best if he had any hope of getting through what was to come next. And he’d have to get through it, if not for himself, then for Sam’s sake. His brother had come for him and Dean was not going to let the boy down.


	175. Return

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Five: Return 

The first thing that Dean noticed as he awoke (and yeah, he did it all on his own, pulling Sammy out with him because he’d be damned if he relied on Gabriel to take care of them for that simple act) was that his body must’ve been mostly healed at some point because the all-encompassing agony that he’d been in before going under was gone now. His leg was bothering him still and there were a few other small aches and pains, but compared to before, Dean felt great. But as he shifted and opened his eyes, the teenager realized that he was still naked. Damn.

The hunter was about to complain about his lack of wardrobe (after all, it would really take nothing for an archangel to make an outfit for him), when he heard the sounds of a fight close by. Dean turned his head and saw Sam’s face right in front of his. His younger brother’s eyes flicked open and the smaller boy smiled at seeing him. Dean gave a half smile back, but tried to sit up so that he could find out what the hell was going on in the room that they were in. He needed to know if Sam was in danger. 

Once he was partially upright, Dean caught sight of Gabriel next to Sam and then the source of all the ruckus. In the center of the room, Anderson was lying flat on his back with a demon crouched over him and three others surrounding them. The cop was beaten and bloodied and trying to fight back with some sort of knife that looked like it had come from Alastair’s collection. Unfortunately, the demon pinning him to the floor also had a blade and was in a much better position to use his.

“Sammy, stay back.”

Dean swung his legs off the table, thankful that while Gabe had forgotten to dress him, the archangel had been nice enough to take the restraints off. He looked around frantically for some sort of weapon to use to try and help Anderson out. The young hunter snatched up a small knife from the tray near the table just as the demon pressed its weapon down into the cop’s already bleeding shoulder. Dean started forward, trying not to let the screams remind him of his own torture at Alastair’s hands.

But he hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps when Gabriel was right next to the demons and was burning them from the inside out. The one on Anderson fell to the side, as did the closest one to them. The other two made the dumbass move to try and grab the archangel from behind, but before they could, the sword was in Gabriel’s hand and the demons were beheaded. Hell, if Dean had blinked, he might have missed it. For a jokester, Gabe could certainly fight when the circumstances called for it. 

And speaking of Gabriel…

“Uh, Gabe… clothes?” Dean requested now that the immediate danger had passed.

The archangel turned around. “Always a complaint, huh Deano? I can’t even get a proper ‘thank you’?”

“Fine. Thanks for helping to rescue me. Now can I please get some clothes?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but snapped his fingers. Dean looked down to see a pair of jeans, boots, a plain black t-shirt, and a denim over-shirt appear on his body. He sighed in relief. Being naked and vulnerable and surrounded by enemies sucked.

“Thank. Again.”

Sam, who until now had stayed behind him, darted forward. “Is Anderson…”

“He was alive a moment ago.” Dean replied, approaching their fallen ally, who had gone silent and still.

As the boys got close, the cop’s eye opened and focused on them. Seeing that they didn’t pose a threat to him, the young man relaxed. Dean looked over Anderson’s body. The officer had a cut on his forehead, a badly bleeding wound to his right shoulder, several bruises on his face, and a few scattered cuts across the rest of his body. If it weren’t for the copious blood loss, it wouldn’t be _that_ bad (painful, but not life threatening). As it was, Anderson couldn’t afford to lose much more blood or he’d pass out. His pale skin and now slightly unfocusing gaze were dead giveaways. Still, they’d need to get him up and moving.

“Anderson!” Sam called, dropping to his knees. “Are you okay?”

The man nodded, then grimaced. “Yeah… I’ll be okay. Just… ran out of grace a couple minutes ago. Demons kept coming.”

Dean looked around the room. Holy crap. There were dozens of bodies lying there. Some had been dragged off to the side, but then most ended up being left where they had fallen. He then noticed the devil’s traps that had been drawn around the table he’d been on. Anderson had taken the time to protect him and Sammy. Damn, he owed the guy. How he’d been able to guard the room himself, even armed with the grace of angels (and yeah, it sounded like he’d had more than one), Dean wasn’t sure. But he _was_ impressed. And glad that if Sammy _had_ to be on this rescue mission, at least he’d been paired up with an archangel and Anderson. But if they were here…

“Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“Uh… down on the first floor or the basement.” Sam replied. “We split up into four teams to find you. And to kill Alastair and Zachariah.”

Dean shook his head. “No… Alastair’s too dangerous…”

“There’s twelve of us. And we have angel blades and the Colt and Gabe and Cas…”

“No…” Dean looked towards the door. He needed to get everyone out now.

When he looked back, Gabriel was helping Anderson up. The man’s shoulder was bleeding heavily and Dean noticed that the wound went all the way through. Crap.

“Sit down.” Dean ordered him. “We need to patch you up, or you won’t make it down the hall without bleeding out.” As much as he wanted to rush to the rescue, he couldn’t get someone killed to do it.

Dean rummaged through the first aid kit. He himself still felt the pain of the burn on his left leg and some of the smaller wounds, but they were things that could wait until he got home. A gaping wound in the shoulder couldn’t. 

“I don’t have the time or the proper stuff to stitch this up, so I’ll have to use steri-strips and gauze and you’ll have to keep it as still as possible, okay?”

Anderson nodded. “’Kay.”

Sam hovered nearby, looking nervous. Dean knew that his brother had bonded with the cop and was worried for the guy. He wished that he could offer the boy some reassurances, but the truth was that Anderson was the one guy that couldn’t be healed by angel power and he was in bad shape in a building full of powerful creatures that wanted them all dead. 

Once the quick patch job was done, Dean shoved everything back in the pack, and put it on.

“We ready?”

Once everyone agreed, their team headed out. Dean took a sharp knife with him for protection, wishing that he had something better. The knife wouldn’t do much against either demons or angels.

As they stepped through the door, Dean took a moment to brace himself just in case either himself or Anderson suddenly dropped dead due to the fact that the ‘magic’ room was the only thing keeping either of them alive. He was relatively certain that Gabriel had in fact healed him mostly and that the cop hadn’t lost _that_ much blood or had anything vital injured, but still, one never knew. But thankfully, they all made it from the room and kept going. 

But their group hadn’t gotten too far when suddenly Gabriel tilted his head to the side and made a strange face. 

“Gabe, what’s up?”

“I gotta go.”

“What? No, you can’t leave us!” Sam protested.

“Someone upstairs is ringing the dinner bell, kiddo. Calling everyone here back home. And I’d rather leave of my own free will than get pulled back into that mess.”

“Wait, what are you…” Dean started but found that he was talking to no one. The archangel was gone. 

“Anderson?” 

Dean turned to look at the policeman at Sam’s questioning call. The guy had his eyes shut tightly as if in pain (well, that wasn’t surprising) and his hands went up to hold his head. So much for holding his injured arm still… 

Dean looked around. He assumed that Anderson was hearing an angel’s voice or something, but if that were the case, shouldn’t glass be breaking or something? And shouldn’t the cop be the only guy _not_ left with a splitting headache? Well then, this had to be something completely different.

Dean stepped forward and grabbed onto Anderson as the man’s knees buckled. He supported the officer’s weight enough to gently lower him to the ground rather than allowing him to fall and further injure himself. Sam was at Anderson’s other side instantly. They each kept an eye on him and an eye on the area around themselves.

“Anderson, what’s going on?” Dean demanded.

The man shook his head. “Don’t know.” He got out through clenched teeth. “Something… angels… pulled back… Raphael yelling… from Heaven but…”

“Are _all_ the angels being pulled back?” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

Dean made eye contact with Sam. “Cas.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel held his blade out in front of himself, more than ready to confront Alastair. He always considered it a failure on his part that he hadn’t personally killed the monster that had tortured his best friend in the last timeline. He should have hunted the demon down in Hell itself when he’d gone to retrieve Dean’s soul and torn the thing apart right then and there. But he hadn’t. And then he had failed to end the demon when it had been trying to kill Dean back on earth. Castiel wasn’t so prideful that he needed to be the sole person to finish off Alastair either. He knew that the boy’s parents wanted a piece of the creature as well. And that was fine. But he wasn’t going to just stand by and watch this time. No, this time he was going to let the villain know what happened when you messed with Dean Winchester’s family.

Mary and John were both ready as well, but Castiel moved ahead of them both. His weapon was short range as opposed to their guns. Also, he would be able to take more hits than they would if Alastair came in with his powers in use.

Just then, the door was flung open and Alastair stood there with a sadistic smirk on his face. He entered, flanked by two demons and two angels. And Castiel still found it wrong that his brethren would work side by side with the demon. Sure, he himself had worked with Crowley once upon a time, but the self-appointed King of Hell was hardly on Alastair’s level of pure evil and Castiel never would’ve tortured a teenage boy at his orders. These angels had to know what they were doing was wrong, but they were ignoring it because they wanted their paradise so badly that they chose to disregard the blood that they were getting on their hands. 

Castiel didn’t bother with words, he just stepped forward and came at Alastair with his blade. But as he approached, the demon raised his hand and stopped the motion of the sword.

“I already went through this song and dance once.” Alastair commented. “Do I really need to waste my time killing yet another of you?”

“Another?” Mary gasped.

Now the demon looked quite pleased. “Yes. Young guy on the upper level? Not very experienced, though. And it’s not like he’ll ever live to gain that experience now.”

Young guy on the upper level. That could either be Anderson or Caleb. One of them was now dead at Alastair’s hands. Although the thought of anyone being dead made Castiel sad (and he knew that Dean would _not_ take it well), he hoped that it wasn’t Anderson. First off, the policeman had become a close friend of the family. And secondly, he was on the team with Sam and the team that had found Dean. Castiel didn’t want that team to be compromised. Nor did he want to think about Anderson being killed by Alastair in front of Sam. Besides, maybe there was a slight chance that if it was Caleb, that Gabriel could bring him back. But Castiel had to put all thoughts like that out of his head right now. No matter who had died, they’d have to mourn later. Now he had to face down this powerful, sadistic demon.

“Perhaps. But you won’t live past this day either.”

Alastair turned to face him. “You. You’re the one who teleports and wears some sort of magic cloak. What are you hiding, I wonder? Lilith knew. Too bad she never shared before you all killed her.”

“My secret is that I am the best friend of the boy that you tortured and I will be one of the last things you ever see.”

Suddenly a shot rang out. It had come from the Colt. Alastair put up his hand, and the bullet stopped just an inch from his fingers. Castiel felt the power that held his blade still loosen up and he pushed forward with not just his strength, but all his power as well. Mary darted forward and splashed the holy water on Alastair, further loosening the demon’s control. The demons and angels backing him up didn’t move to stop them, obviously having been ordered to keep out unless told otherwise. And their fear of punishment would keep them in line. 

Castiel pushed hard but then he heard a buzzing in the back of his head. It took him a second to realize what it was. Raphael. What? He ignored the call. The archangel was calling the others back. A retreat. He obviously had realized that the angels were dropping like stones and that they were most likely losing and had decided to cut his losses. But how was he communicating through the sigils. The buzzing. It wasn’t normal communicating. It was as if it was some sort of backdoor emergency thing. 

Castiel put it out of his mind and pushed forward as hard as he could. The blade slid into Alastair’s body. Unfortunately, the angel realized that it wasn’t a killing blow. The demon made a pained noise and backhanded him hard across the face. Castiel stumbled back slightly, but remained close enough to continue his attack. 

He was about to yank the blade out to try again when he felt the pull of a force from very far away. It was a call from Heaven. Of course. If it was a backdoor thing, then only Raphael could activate it. Not only would he sound the retreat, but he’d be the one to pull all the angels out as well. Only he didn’t realize that Castiel was an angel as well. And he was going to be pulled along to Heaven with the rest.

Castiel fought against the pull. He watched as the other two angels in the room disappeared. Castiel tried to escape the force that was grabbing onto him by teleporting out of there himself, but it was no use. He was stuck. 

The room around him disappeared as, for the first time in a long time, Castiel returned Heaven.


	176. Objective Two

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Six: Objective Two 

Castiel was gone. He’d disappeared right after the other two angels in the room had. John had no clue why, or where he’d gone, or even how he’d transported himself out of the room with all of the sigils still in place. But the hunter couldn’t worry about that right now. Not with Alastair still standing there in front of them. The demon had to be dealt with first. 

John fired the Colt again. Again Alastair stopped the bullet. Mary dropped the holy water and darted forward to pull the angel blade that Cas had left behind out of the demon’s body. Alastair made a grunting noise and turned to face her. He put his hand up and flung John’s wife across the room. Mary hit the wall hard, the sword clutched tightly in her hand. 

Alastair stepped toward where the love of John’s life was pinned, a sneer marring the demon’s face. His hand was out in front of him and he started to close it into a fist. Mary cried out. John had no clue as to what the creature was doing to her, but it didn’t matter. This thing had caused enough pain and sorrow over the years. He wasn’t going to do anymore. John wouldn’t give him that chance. It ended now. 

John pulled the trigger of the Colt again and again and again. The first bullet was stopped just inches from the demon’s skin, but the next two buried themselves into Alastair’s body. One in his back and one in his skull. Light and energy crackled from the wounds; it was a pretty damned mesmerizing sight actually. The demon dropped to his knees. Alastair tried to stand back up. What the… As John got closer, he could see that the white-eyed bastard had used its powers to slow the bullets and they’d just barely penetrated the flesh and bone. Still, the creature seemed to possibly be dying.

“You’re finished.” John informed him. “You messed with the wrong family.”

“You’re… too late.” Alastair spat. Even in pain and possibly dying, it was taking a cruel kind of pleasure in gloating. “I took your brat apart piece by piece. He’ll never survive what I put him through. Whatever happens next; I win.”

“No,” Mary spoke up, stepping away from the wall. Blood was trickling from the corner of her mouth as she lifted up the angel blade. “Winchesters are strong. Much stronger than scum like you. So, we win. You lose.” And with that, she plunged the weapon deep into Alastair’s chest.

John watched the monster die. But he didn’t feel the expected triumph or pleasure. All he felt was worry for his eldest son. _I took your brat apart piece by piece. He’ll never survive what I put him through. Whatever happens next; I win._ Was that true? Yeah, Dean had been tortured for three weeks, but surely if he was in _that_ bad of a shape, Anderson would’ve said something when he’d called earlier, right? Unless the young man hadn’t wanted to alarm Dean’s parents… 

The hunter raised the Colt to deal with the two demons that had followed Alastair into the room, but they were gone. Smart demons… huh? Who would’ve thought it was possible. 

John reached up to grab the radio to call Anderson when he hesitated. Maybe Anderson wasn’t even alive anymore. Alastair had suggested that he’d killed someone and the cop had fit the description… But that would leave just Sam with a possibly dying Dean if Gabriel had taken off when all the other angels had too (and just what had _that_ been all about?). John felt like he was about to have a panic attack. No. He had to get a grip and find out what was going on.

The hunter fingered the button on the radio and called team 4. “Team 4, this is Team 1. Objective 2a complete.” Alastair was ‘a’ in objective 2, while Zachariah would be ‘b’. 

There was a moment pause and John started to wonder if there was anyone in that team left to respond. Oh God… there better be… Then soft static came through, followed by Anderson’s weak sounding, pain-filled voice. “Understood. We’re down one member. Trickster. (They’d all agreed not to use names over the radios, just in case) He… uh… took off. Anything similar there?”

The worried father fought the urge to just demand to know how his sons were. “Yeah. We lost our member too. How’s the rest of your team?”

“We’re…”

There was a sound in the background and then John let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when Dean’s voice came over the radio. “We’re okay. Well, Anderson’s hurt bad and we really could’ve used Ga… uh…Trickster right about now, but we’ll be fine. See you soon.”

John had a million questions for his son, but they’d have to wait to be asked in person. But the important thing was that he sounded alright. Maybe too alright. Certainly not like someone that had just endured three weeks of torture.

“John…” He looked over to see Mary looking at him. He grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. God, it felt so good to hold her in his arms and know that his entire family was going to be okay. Well, hopefully…

“We need to get moving.” He said into her hair.

“Where do you think Castiel is?” She asked.

“Not sure.”

“I don’t think he left on his own.” Mary stated. “He looked… I don’t know. It just didn’t seem right. And he’d never leave us like that. Do you think the other angels pulled him away?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.” John replied after thinking for a moment. “But don’t worry. Cas will find his way back. Or maybe Dean will know a way to help him. But first we need to complete this job.”

“I know.”

Okay, so maybe their entire family wasn’t safe. Because the angel had become family over the years. And losing him was going to be a blow to Dean. Damn it all… 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean felt… hell, he didn’t know how to feel after that call from his parents. First off, hearing his dad’s voice brought a great sense of relief. They were still alive. That was… that was beyond relief actually. Then his dad gave the message that ‘objective 2a’ was complete. Dean had asked Anderson what the hell that meant. The cop had quickly informed him that that was their code for Alastair being dead. Alastair was dead. Now that was unreal. It was great news. Dean was thrilled that his family would be safe from that monster and felt like saying _hah, take that_ to the freakin’ demon’s dead ass. But on the other hand, he kind of wished that he’d gotten a chance to stab the bastard himself. Then his dad confirmed that Cas was gone. And Dean doubted that his friend would’ve up and ditched them like Gabe had. Maybe, if he knew that he had to get out fast… Dean hoped that that was the case, but he had a sick feeling in his stomach that Cas had been pulled back to Heaven. Which left a hole deep within him. Cas was gone. And it was Dean’s fault. When his dad started asking about how they were, Dean had pulled the radio from Anderson’s grasp, gave a quick response, and shut it off. They needed to keep moving. Especially since their pace was agonizingly slow.

Dean was trying his best to support Anderson, who was obviously trying his best not too lean too heavily on the teenager, but that was a losing battle. The guy had gone from kind of pale to white as a sheet and there was still a small amount of blood leaking through his bandages. And Dean had to acknowledge that he himself wasn’t that steady on his own feet. His burned leg was bugging him and his entire body was weak from the weeks of torture and lack of food and exercise. Whatever healing Gabriel had done had given him the energy to get up and moving, but now that was starting to fail him. Sam had noticed and was trying to lend a hand, but wasn’t really tall enough yet to be that much help. So, their group was moving slow, and had the risk of falling over at any given moment. Awesome.

“Are we anywhere near the stairwell?” He asked.

“Uh… yeah.” Sam didn’t sound terribly convincing. “It’s not too far away now.”

“Shouldn’t this place have more than one stairwell? Like in case of a fire or something? If there was an emergency we’d all be burned alive by now.” Dean grumbled.

“Don’t think it’s up to code.” Anderson commented.

“Maybe that’s why it’s been shut down.” Sam suggested.

“Or maybe it had something to do with their extreme demon infestation.” Dean countered.

A moment later, Anderson stumbled and all three of them almost fell to the ground. Once they’d mostly regained their balance, the cop pulled away from Dean and leaned up against the wall. Dean was tempted to do the same, but he knew that they really couldn’t waste the time.

“We gotta keep moving.” He reluctantly informed the injured cop. 

“Go… go without me.” Anderson’s voice was weaker than it had been before and the man slid down to a sitting position. 

“Uh uh. No way. We all go together.” Dean insisted.

“I’m slowing you guys down. Can’t fight in this condition. Can barely walk.”

“Which is why we need to keep going. The sooner we’re out of here, the sooner we can get you help. A hospital or if you don’t want to have to answer any questions we can hijack the right equipment and do the blood transfusion ourselves. Been there plenty of times before. But if you stay here, you die.” 

“And if I… continue on with you two… I might get you both killed.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “Look, you both go on. If you find some help, send them back for me. Okay?”

Sam gave Dean a pleading look. They both knew that if they left Anderson now, the chances of seeing him alive again would be very slim.

“No.” Dean responded. “Not okay.” He started toward the young officer, intent on pulling the guy to his feet and dragging him down the hall if need be, when he heard the familiar rustle sound that signaled angel transport.

Dean let out a sigh and was about to turn to greet Gabriel when he saw a flash of concern pass over Anderson’s face. The young hunter tightened his grip on his weapon (useless against an angel, sure, but it made him feel better anyways) and spun around.

And came face to face with Zachariah.


	177. Beat Anything

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Seven: Beat Anything 

Scott sensed Zachariah’s presence before he lifted his head to see the angel. He immediately recognized the feel of the damned thing. How could he forget the first evil angel he’d ever encountered? The cop glanced up, barely moving his neck as he did so (since every little move jarred his injured right shoulder and caused him extreme pain) and caught a glimpse of the creature. He wondered if Zachariah even bothered to lie to himself and pretend that he was a good guy. Most of the angels he’d encountered here felt just a bit wrong, like they were crossing the line and knew it, but they weren’t truly wicked. This guy though… Scott wished that he could shut off whatever weird ability he possessed just so that he could stop sensing the cruelty that seeped out of this angel.

Dean stepped away from where Scott was lying to confront Zachariah. Damn it. The kid was going to get himself killed. He was armed with nothing but a knife taken from that room that they’d been in and everyone in the hall knew that it was useless against an angel. 

Screw it. Ignoring his injuries, Scott tried to get back to his feet. He needed to back the Winchester kids up. They’d backed him up by refusing to leave him behind just moments ago (even if he thought that that was a dangerous decision), so he wasn’t going to leave them to face down this dangerous _thing_ by themselves. But he’d only gotten partway up when he collapsed back down. Pain and blood loss were a bitch. He’d learned that particular lesson four years ago and it seemed that nothing had changed.

“Going somewhere, Dean?”

“Yeah.” Dean all but sneered in response to the angel. “I’m getting the hell outta here and I’m going right through your fat, douchey ass to get there.”

Zachariah gave one of his nasty smiles that Scott remembered from all those years before. “You and what army? Because you certainly aren’t equipped to deal with me, boy.”

“What are you even doing here, ass-face? I thought all angels had taken a hike.”

A dark look passed over Zachariah’s face. “Raphael thinks this is over. He thinks that he can just call this off and cover himself for what’s gone on. But no. I won’t let our plans be disrupted by a worthless speck of nothing like you. I was in Heaven when Raphael called them all home. I waited until he was done and then I returned here to finish with you.”

“And what are you going to do, huh? You and your now-dead demon friend had weeks to crack me and you failed. Hell, you lost me in my own head. So, what exactly do you think you’ll be able to accomplish on your own in the few seconds before I stab you in your face?”

“Stab me with what? That useless toy in your hand?” The angel chuckled. “It’s as pathetic as you. And as for what I can do… now, I don’t just have you; I have you, your baby brother, and…” He looked right at Scott. “You? Thought you would’ve learned to stay away from this family. Well, too late to be taught now.” If at all possible, the smile on his face twisted to even more sinister as he refocused on Dean. “Perhaps you don’t mind all the pain we put you through, but do you really want your little brother and friend to suffer along with you?”

“You even think about putting one of your slimy fingers on him and I’ll…”

“You’ll do nothing.” Zachariah proclaimed. “Except tell me what I want to know.”

As Scott watched, both boys suddenly doubled over in pain. Sam cried out, but Dean only grunted in discomfort. The younger boy dropped to his knees, wrapping his hands around his middle, as his older brother pressed one hand to his own stomach and reached a hand out to comfort the other child. This was it. The angel was using his powers, giving Scott his chance to end this. 

Scott reached out, but he didn’t have to reach far as he felt Zachariah’s powers brushing up against him. The angel was trying to do to him what he was doing to the Winchesters. Well, that would just make Scott’s job easier. The cop felt himself get a hold of the powers and he started to pull. But unlike other times, he found himself struggling. It was probably due to the fact that he was close to passing out at this point, but he knew that he had to stay with it enough to complete his job. Everyone’s lives depended on him right now. So, with everything he had, Scott started to pull the angel’s grace from him.

“What…” Zachariah turned to face him again. “How… what are you doing? What are you?”

Scott tried to ignore him to complete draining the angel’s grace, when Zachariah waved a hand, pushing the Winchester boys to the ground, and started stalking towards the officer. The young man concentrated on finishing up, but he was so injured and exhausted that the process was taking much too long. Zachariah pulled out his blade and Scott closed his eyes. There wasn’t a damned thing that he could do to stop the angel from offing him, but maybe he could use his final moments to make it so that Dean could kill the bastard afterwards.

But just as he sensed the evil angel looming over him, he heard a ‘thud’, followed by a ‘crash’. Scott opened his eyes to see Zachariah turn to look at Sam and Dean. The now busted open first-aid kit was lying by the angel’s feet and the younger boy was still clutching the unzipped backpack in one hand. The cop wanted to laugh. His life had just been spared by a twelve year old throwing a small box at a powerful angel. But a glance down at the red now staining the corner of the white first-aid kit revealed that Zachariah wasn’t quite so powerful anymore. Scott had succeeded. Good. Because darkness was rushing up to greet him and Scott wasn’t certain that he could hold it off any longer.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean was about to get to his feet and rush Zachariah to stop him from killing Anderson when Sam threw the first-aid kit. And really with an arm like that, the kid should drop out of soccer and join the baseball team. Of course, if he hit his teammates in the head like that, he’d be putting them in the hospital… As it was, Zachariah turned to glare at them. Now Dean _did_ get to his feet. The terrible pain in his gut was receding and the angel had been hurt by a metal box. That combined with his reaction to Anderson was enough to confirm to Dean that the cop had worked his magic. So, Zachariah could probably now be killed by the knife in Dean’s hand. And the hunter was going to go for it.

He walked determinedly towards the now-powerless douche-bag. And he smirked at the brief flash of fear that he saw in Zachariah’s eyes. But then the angel pulled himself together.

“Stay back or I’ll kill you. I am…”

“A powerless prick.” Dean finished. “Not much different than you’ve ever been, huh? And if you think you’re going to stab me with that sword, think again. Unlike you, I’m used to being human. Not that you come anywhere near qualifying for that. Maybe more in the category of the crap that humans scrape off their shoes.”

Zachariah actually tried it. He swiped at Dean with the blade, but the hunter had expected it and dropped down under the weapon and came up behind him. Then he slashed with his knife, cutting Zachariah’s arm from halfway up his forearm all the way almost to his shoulder. The angel cried out and dropped the sword. Dean kicked it away and over to Sam. 

Dean knew that he could end it then and there, as he stood up behind his opponent. But no; he was going to look the asshole in the eyes as he killed him.

Dean waited until Zachariah turned to face him, then he held up the knife.

“This is for hurting Sam, and for all the crap you’ve put my family though, and for everything you were planning, and for me, and hell… just ‘cause you’re a grade A son of a bitch.”

Then Dean rammed the blade of his knife deep into Zachariah’s throat. His eye’s widened in shock and pain. The angel dropped to the ground, gurgling on his own blood. Dean stared at him for a second longer before turning to his brother.

“You okay, Sammy?”

“I… I think so. My stomach still hurts a bit. But not too bad.”

“I don’t think he did anything permanent.” Dean informed him. “We’ll be okay.”

“Okay. What about Anderson? Is he okay?”

“I’ll check.” Dean was a bit hesitant to examine their friend. He really didn’t want to have to tell Sam if the guy had died. 

He walked past Zachariah’s dead body and kneeled down next to Anderson. The guy’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see if his chest was moving or not. Dean reached out to check his pulse when the cop’s entire body shook as he gasped for breath. Okay then, alive, but not well. They could work with that.

“Anderson? Hey buddy, can you hear me?”

“Huh… Wha…”

“That’s it. Hang in there. Stay awake, ‘cause I can’t carry you and we still aren’t gonna leave your ass here alone, ‘kay?”

Anderson blinked his eyes open but his gaze remained unfocused. “Not sure… I can get… up.”

“Sure you can. I’ll help.”

The young man shook his head, then winced and groaned.

“You can’t give up.” Sam pleaded, coming over to stand next to Dean. “Please.”

Anderson closed his eyes and Dean wondered if he’d passed out again. But then he reopened them and it was obvious that he was trying hard to focus on his surroundings. “Not. Just need a bit… more help.”

Dean nodded. “Give me your radio. I’ll call for backup and then we all wait here together. I doubt we’ll have too much problems with all the angels gone and the two leaders taken out. And if we do, we now have a weapon that’ll kill ‘em.” The hunter motioned towards the angel blade that Sam had brought over.

“I got the grace… too.” Anderson added.

“Yeah well, let’s keep that as a last resort.” Dean instructed. He didn’t know if using his freaky abilities would further wear out Anderson, but he didn’t want the cop to kill himself trying to protect their group. He snatched up Anderson’s radio. “Uh, this is team 4. We have a man injured and need a little assistance. If a team can get up to the…” He looked over at Sam who was holding up five fingers. “… fifth floor, that would be awesome.”

“Team 4, this is team 2.” Bill Harvelle’s voice came through. “We’re on our way.”

“Thanks team 2.”

He looked at his brother, then Anderson. “We’re gonna be alright.” He really hoped that that was true.

Sam handed the angel blade over to him. “Here, Dean.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Then he caught the boy staring at the corpse on the ground. “Hey, don’t look at that.”

“It’s okay. I’m not scared or anything. He’s dead. And he deserved it. I can’t believe an angel would… He was the first angel that ever really scared me, Dean. But… he’s not a threat anymore. Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to all of us. Anderson took away his powers, you distracted him, and I killed him. But see, Sammy. There’s nothing out there that we can’t beat.”

Sam nodded. “I get that now. After seeing all the stuff in your head, and now this… we can beat anything, huh?”

“Anything, Sammy.” Dean promised. And he really hoped that that was true. Because he was going to need to be able to beat anything if he wanted to make certain that he got Cas back. Which was his next step after getting everyone out of here alive. And he’d march through the gates of Heaven, angel blade in hand, and take out anyone that stood in his way, if he had to.


	178. The Right Path

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Eight: The Right Path 

There was chaos drowning out parts of Heaven. Angels were being pulled up from a battle they had no business ever being involved in in the first place, other angels were milling about to try and find out what had happened, Raphael was loudly proclaiming his anger that Zachariah had gone behind his back to work with Alastair and had forced him to track down these misled angels and bring them back before they were killed like so many of their brethren, and the confusion and volume was the likes that the celestial realm had not known for a very long time. But Michael kept away from all of that. He knew that soon, so very soon, far too soon, he’d have to step in and have to restore order to the chaos. He’d have to listen to his fellow archangel’s lies and pretend to believe them to avoid starting a confrontation that could end in a civil war that would cost the lives of countless angels and spill over onto his Father’s beloved creation causing so much bloodshed to the innocent humans that they were supposed to love. And while he would do it, he would stomach all the falsehoods that Raphael would spin, Michael would keep a close eye on both him and the Winchesters from here on out. But for now, the archangel stayed far away from all the commotion in a very quiet corner of Heaven. 

He smiled as a small boy ran past, holding a wooden sword and chasing after imaginary foes. His happiness faded as it always did when Michael was reminded that the only reason for anyone to be in Heaven was because their life on Earth had ended. And this child had had his torn away from him at the age of seven because he could see angels and Raphael had decided that all of his kind had to die. The slaughter had happened so long ago, but Michael could still remember his brothers and sisters returning from Earth after killing thousands of men, women, and children and actually celebrating their victory. He’d yelled at Raphael, scolded the other angels, apologized repeatedly to their Father for his siblings’ mistakes, and then come here. To this beautiful section of paradise where a young couple and their three children would spend eternity. And even in Heaven the couple was wary of angels (and who could blame them) until Michael had spoken with them, promised them that they’d be safe, and told them of how he’d even delivered a message to one family that was far away from the fighting to run and not reveal themselves to the angels. Ever since, he’d come back here whenever he’d needed peace and quiet. This was a nice place. But he had to admit that he hadn’t come here for a very long time. He’d gotten so wrapped up in angel politics and plans for the apocalypse (one that he no longer believed was his Father’s wish for them right now) and other such matters, that Michael was ashamed to admit that he’d become removed from his Fathers creations over the last thousand years or so. 

That would have to change. He’d need to talk with the souls in Heaven. He’d need to watch the goings on on earth. He couldn’t afford to start thinking of humans in any way other than as the beautiful creatures that his Father had wanted the angels to see them as. Sure, they were flawed. But then, if there was anything that Michael had learned over the years, it was that the only one not flawed was Father Himself. The angels were making many mistakes, no different than the humans. Michael himself wasn’t perfect. He’d come very close to helping to start the apocalypse due to a blind obedience in his Father’s orders. Yet when he’d really thought about who his Father was, and looked at His creations, he’d realized just how badly he’d been misinterpreting those orders. And that other angels had been purposefully twisting things to get their paradise early. So, how could they hold themselves so high above those their Father loved? No, the angels had to protect humanity. Love them. Do as they had been instructed rather than as they pleased. But that was a hard sell for some and Michael knew that Raphael had a lot of followers. So he’d have to try and convince those angels that still believed in their Father and their true path. But first, he had something more pressing to take care of.

“Do not be afraid. You are safe here.”

“I’m in Heaven against my will. I have reason to doubt my safety. But for the record, I’m not afraid.”

Michael turned around. “That is good, Castiel.” He gave the angel a curious look. “Because I have no intention of harming you, but we have much to discuss.”

“Yes, I imagine we do. But I was quite busy when you snatched me up just now. So, if you can put me back, we can break bread another time perhaps.”

“I’m afraid that I cannot do that.”

“And now comes the threats…”

Michael shook his head. “Not at all brother. But you see, I am not the one that tried to ‘snatch you up’. That was Raphael. But I intercepted and pulled you here before he could notice you. He _is_ quite busy. Raphael seeing you would most definitely cause a stir seeing as to how there is already a Castiel in Heaven. But we’ll get to that in a moment. As for your request to go back, if I place you back now, Raphael will certainly take note of that and you’ll be exposed as an angel. So far, it seems that he hasn’t noticed your absence down there, which is good. Because if he realizes who and what you are, he’ll certainly make things complicated for you.”

“Certainly.” Castiel agreed. “And you?”

Michael sighed. “Have no wish to complicate anything. But things are definitely complicated on their own. Because, again, there are currently two Castiels in Heaven. One I know and the other is standing here before me and has been aiding the Winchester family for years. Going on twelve years if my theory is correct.”

“You have a theory?” Castiel asked.

“All of this started when Mary Winchester was spared from death in November of 1983. I’m assuming that you had something to do with that. And as you seem to be in a vessel older than the vessel should be, my guess is that you have come from the future to alter certain events. But how have you avoided attracting Fate?”

“The only way one can, Michael. There are but two beings that Fate will listen to. And of them, only one that I would want to have their approval.”

That made Michael freeze. “Are you saying that our Father has given his consent to your plan?”

“Well, I was not speaking of Death.” Castiel shrugged.

“But how… how do you know?”

“Because brother, I know. I would never have come back to this time and have risked my friend’s entire history and his family and everything without knowing that this was the right path.”

Michael thought about his own decisions in recent years; how they’d taken him away from what he’d thought was a set path, but to what felt truly right. “I understand.”

Castiel squinted and tilted his head to the side. “Yes, I believe you do. And forgive me for asking, but why are you helping me?”

“I take it in the future you came from, this was not the path that was taken.”

“No. You chose a different way.”

Michael thought about what might have happened if Mary Winchester had died. If the apocalypse had stayed on track. And he knew. He would not have had any reason to question his own role in the events. Michael would’ve liked to believe that he’d still make the right decision in his Father’s eyes but as he studied Castiel, he knew that that was not the case. In some alternate timeline, he’d tried to wipe out most of humanity out of a misplaced sense of duty. “Well, I’m helping now because it’s what our Father wants. I think that’s something we can both agree on.”

“Not to sound skeptical, but what made you come to this conclusion?”

“The fact that one small child has repeatedly derailed the apocalypse. No mere human can stop something that our Father truly wished to happen. So, I began to think that perhaps this was not meant to be. And then, I was forced to reevaluate everything. And while I was looking around, I saw just how many lines our brothers and sisters were crossing. And that surly cannot be what our Father had planned for us.”

“No.” Castiel actually smiled. “I was actually thinking much the same not too long ago as I thought about them working alongside demons.”

“You’ve done well, Castiel.” Michael complimented after a moment. “But you must be careful. Raphael may have temporarily pulled back this time, but he won’t give up.”

“I am aware.”

“I will try to convince the angels to follow me and leave the Earth in peace, but many want what he has to offer.”

“I appreciate anything you can do.” Castiel seemed sad. “It always seems to come down to angels fighting one another.”

Michael thought about Lucifer and wondered if he’d set all this into motion with his pettiness so long ago. “Believe me, I wish that things could be different. I tried to convince Raphael…”

“In a different time, so did I.” The other angel admitted. “It did not turn out well.”

“You are very different than the Castiel that I know.” The archangel observed. “Since you asked me, I think it only fair that I know what made you change your mind on everything.”

“Dean.”

Michael blinked. “That’s it?”

Castiel smiled. “Yes. After I pulled him from Hell, he pulled me from Heaven. And not in a terrible way. But in the sense that we are so caught up with…”

“… our own politics that we’ve forgotten what we were created for.” Michael finished, echoing his own thoughts from just minutes ago. 

Castiel seemed surprised that Michael understood. But then he nodded. “Yes. But spending time with Dean, listening to him, watching him, seeing the world through his eyes… it set me on the correct path.”

Michael chuckled. “And here I thought the Winchesters’ roles were to be the vessels for us to bring about the end, when perhaps they are truly the ones to show us how to have a new beginning.”

“If only all believed that.” 

“If it is our Father’s will, it will be done. And we will make certain that our brothers and sisters don’t continue down the wrong path.”

“ _That_ will be the challenge.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam was more than ready for all of this to be over. He was tired, both mentally and physically, and he was beyond worried. Dean was limping a bit and had a haunted look to him that the older boy was doing his best to hide. And Anderson was being supported by Bill and Ellen but he was still barley walking at this point. Sam just wanted to go down to the ground floor, meet up with his parents, and go home. But no. Rufus had called, looking to see if Gabriel was with them. When they’d said ‘no’, he’d asked about Anderson. No one knew why Rufus was requesting his presence, but they were on their way to meet up with him anyway. Sam just hoped that the older hunter didn’t want the cop to do any smiting. He wasn’t sure that Anderson was up for that.

When they reached the third floor, they made their way past the debris, over to where they saw Bobby standing and Rufus sitting on the ground. And as they got close, Sam felt his heart sink. Caleb lay on the floor, blood covering his chest and his eyes partially opened. Dead.

“Took you all long enough.” Rufus complained.

Bobby ran up to them and pulled Dean into a hug. “Good ta see ya, boy.”

But Sam saw that Dean’s eyes were glued to the body on the ground. When Bobby let go of him, the teen walked slowly over to where Rufus was sitting by Caleb. 

“What… what happened?” His voice cracked a bit.

“Alastair.” Rufus answered. “I tried to tell the kid not to go after him, but…”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean screamed, making most of them jump. Then he turned on them. “You shouldn’t have come for me! Damn it! It wasn’t worth this. _I’m_ not worth this.”

“Dean…” Sam stepped forward with tears forming in his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“Really, Sam? You think my life is worth more than some one else’s? That Caleb had to die so that you all could rescue me?”

“You’re the most important person in the world to me, Dean. And you’ve saved so many people. So yeah. You deserve to be saved. And we didn’t know…”

“Well you all should’ve! You were up against Alastair!” Dean ran his hands through his hands. “God, of course something like this was going to happen. Now, because of me, Caleb is dead and Cas is gone and look! Anderson’s bleeding out, Pastor Jim’s hurt (he gestured to the man’s bloody shirt), and Rufus here looks like his leg’s all messed up. And you think _I’m_ worth this? I’m worth crap, Sammy.”

Sam shook his head. Why couldn’t Dean see himself the way that Sam did? Oh yeah… his crappy first upbringing… “Not true, Dean.”

“Look, if you’re done crying over there, we can fix this.” Rufus interrupted.

Everyone turned to him.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Anderson, get your ass over here and do something.”

The cop looked confused. “Do what?”

Rufus rolled his eyes. “Whatever it is that angels do when they bring people back from the dead.”

“I’m not an angel.” Anderson pointed out.

“I know that! But you got those freak powers of yours. So get over here and bring Caleb back.”

All eyes went to Anderson. “I… I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t.”

“Can’t! I’m not God. I don’t have the powers of life and death! Hell, I wouldn’t even want them! That’s just a bit too much. I just…”

“Get your ass over here and try, goddamit!”

“No.” Anderson shook his head. “I can’t do it.”

“How the hell do you know? You haven’t even tried. From what I hear you keep saying you’re so damned normal and then you do all this weird crap. So maybe you can do this if you stop being such a wimp about it.” Rufus all but growled at him.

“Look, maybe I can use the grace to heal the large wound on his chest if I really tried, but that wouldn’t bring him back to life. We’d just have a nicer looking corpse. I can’t retrieve his soul. I’m _not_ an angel. It’s _not_ something that I can do.” Anderson took a deep breath and then let out a pained groan. The argument seemed to be using up what little energy he’d scraped together earlier. 

“Try it.” Rufus ordered.

“Leave him alone.” Sam spoke up.

“Stay out of this, kid. You don’t know a damned thing.”

“You speak to my brother with anything but respect and there will be one more body on the ground.” Dean threatened.

“Everyone, please calm down.” Pastor Jim tried to interject.

“I’ll calm down when _he_ stops pretending to be human and does his damned job.” Rufus answered, gesturing at the cop.

Sam watched as Anderson’s eyes narrowed. “You know what? I’m sick of this. You hunters say crap about me and treat me like a freak because I have this ability but now you’re getting on my case because I’m not freaky enough to resurrect the dead? And what? If I did, you’d probably decide somewhere down the line that I was too dangerous to live and you’d try to put a bullet in my head.” He took a moment to catch his breath. “And as for doing my job, my job was to back you guys up. Which I did. Which, I’ll continue to do until we’re all out of here _or_ I bleed to death. My job is _not_ to play God. I’m sorry that he’s dead. But I can’t fix this.”

“No one expects you to.” Dean spoke up. Then he turned to Rufus. “Caleb’s dead. We can’t do anything about it. I know Anderson and I know that he’d help if he could. But acting like an ass to him isn’t gonna accomplish anything. So stow the attitude.”

Sam saw the fight leave Rufus to be replaced by defeat and guilt. “Fine. But we ain’t leaving his body here.”

“I’m gonna be helping you walk, so someone else needs to carry the body.” Bobby stated. 

“If I take over helping Anderson, can you take care of it?” Dean asked Bill.

Pastor Jim wasn’t in any condition to carry anyone and Sam knew that he was too small.

“Sure.” Bill agreed. 

They were just about to get ready to move out when their radios crackled to life.

“Teams two through four, come in.”

“Here.” Bill responded. “We’re all together.”

“Good. You all need to get out of the building now. Some of the demons must’ve rigged this place up. It’s set to explode and I can’t stop it. We only have just over two minutes. Get the hell out. Now!”


	179. Ride Off into the Night

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Nine: Ride Off into the Night 

They burst out the front door and kept running as fast as they could. Mary wished that she could turn around and go back in for her boys, but there was no way that her and John could find them and get out in time. And if they got killed while her sons made it out… No, she couldn’t put them through that. But it still felt wrong to be out of that death trap and not know if Dean and Sam would make it out before the whole place went up. 

They didn’t stop running until they made it to the Impala and dropped down behind it. She checked her watch. Only about twenty seconds left. And still no sign of the others. There was no way they’d get out in time. Unless maybe they’d gone out the back…

Mary was hoping that she’d get a call on the radio saying that everyone had made it, when she felt a strange sort of displacement in the air; like a build up of energy. She looked around a then saw a group of people suddenly appear out of thin air right above the Impala. She recognized Bobby, Ellen, and Sam, but didn’t have time to identify the rest as they all tumbled down onto the roof of the car, the hood, or rolled off onto the ground. Then an explosion from the building rocked the entire area. Mary was pushed down by John. 

After a moment, she pulled away and rushed to where the people scattered on and around the car were struggling to their feet. She saw Sam first.

“Sam!”

The boy was sitting on the hood of the car and as he raised his head, he grimaced and the leaned over the side and threw up. The concerned mother was at his side in an instant.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Her youngest son wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Uh… Anderson transported us out of there, but I think he needs some more practice. I feel a bit carsick.”

Ellen, who was picking herself up off the ground and also looked like she was extremely nauseous, spoke up. “I’ll take motion sickness over being blown apart any day.” 

Mary started looking around at the group. Bobby was helping Bill to his feet. Rufus was lying on the ground puking. Pastor Jim was just starting to sit up on the hood of the car, clutching at his middle. Caleb was lying face down on the ground, unmoving. Anderson was sprawled on the roof of the Impala, also motionless. But where was… there. Dean had just stood up on the opposite side of the vehicle. 

Mary forgot about everything else as she rushed to him. Three weeks. She hadn’t laid eyes on her son in three weeks. And now here he was. Alive. Sure he looked awful; his skin was pale, he was far too thin, there were dark circles under his eyes, and she could see the dried blood covering his skin and hair hinting that he’d had many injuries that were no longer there. But still, Dean was by far the best sight her eyes could’ve seen at that moment.

She reached him and threw her arms around him. “Oh God. My baby. Dean… I just… It’s so good to have you back.”

His arms wrapped around her. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m okay.”

“No you’re not. But you will be. We’ll take care you, sweetheart.” She kissed his cheek as she released him and noted the tear trickling down his face.

He no sooner stepped back and John had engulfed him in a hug. She watched them hold each other for a moment. As she did, Mary tried to see if her eldest was injured. She noticed that he was favoring his left leg and seemed to be in pain and just generally exhausted. The clothing that he was wearing was brand new and was hiding any wounds that he might have. 

“What now?” Bill asked from behind her. 

She turned and saw that everyone had gathered together except for Caleb who still lay on the ground (dead… Alastair had said he’d killed someone and if Anderson had transported the group outside, his victim must’ve been Caleb) and Anderson, who was still lying on the roof of the car. As she studied him, she saw a thin trail of blood run down the window near where he lay. Damn, he must be hurt bad.

“We tend to our wounded and get home.” She responded.

John followed her line of sight. “Damn it.” He climbed up on the car to take a look. “Can someone give me a hand getting him down from here?”

Bill rushed over and the two men very gently lifted Anderson off of the car and rested him on the ground. Mary took a quick glance and wondered for a moment if their friend was dead. But when she kneeled down and took his pulse, she found one. It was weak and thready, but it was there. She pulled out a knife and cut away the tattered remains of the upper portion of his shirt to get a better look at where the blood was coming from. There were bandages there that had soaked through. She quickly removed them to find that there were steri-strips that had been holding a gaping wound shut, but several had pulled open. Mary suddenly found an open first-aid kit placed next to her, and she reached into it to find the materials that she needed to close the injury back up. She saw that the young cop had several other injuries, but decided that they weren’t life threatening. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Sam asked.

Mary wasn’t really sure. He’d lost a lot of blood and was unconscious either from that or the strain of using his ability to transport them all outside. But she wanted to give her son hope. “He should be. He just needs some blood and some rest.”

“And we all need to get the hell outta here.” Bobby interrupted. 

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Ellen agreed. “That big explosion couldn’t have gone unnoticed.”

“Your family can take the Impala and the rest of us’ll take the other car. We’ll meet at the Roadhouse.” Bill suggested.

John shook his head. “No. Our sons have been through quite enough. We need to get them home. If you can get everyone else back there, we’ll give you a call once we get settled.” Bobby, Pastor Jim, and Rufus had all left their vehicles back at the Harvelles’ bar.

“I completely understand.” Ellen nodded.

“What about Caleb?” Dean wanted to know.

“We’ll take him with us.” Bobby told him. “Give him a hunter’s funeral.”

Dean nodded solemnly. 

“We can bring Anderson back with us.” Mary offered. “He doesn’t live that far away from our house. Besides, he drove out with us in the first place.”

“Alright.” Bill nodded. “Take care. If you need anything at all, please give us a call.”

“Thank you for everything.” Mary responded.

“Thank you.” Ellen replied. “If not for you and your family, we’d be one step closer to the end of everything. Now we have two less very powerful evil creatures to worry about.”

“Two?”

“Oh yeah…” Dean shrugged. “Sammy, Anderson, and I took out Zach.”

Mary felt immensely relieved. 

“Let’s get moving.” Bill said, picking Caleb up and moving towards his car.

Bobby gave Mary’s boys each a tight hug before helping Rufus to his feet and following the others. Pastor Jim said his goodbyes as well.

Once they had reached their vehicle, Mary and John helped to pick Anderson up and, after Dean opened the driver’s side backdoor, they maneuvered him into the car. Afterwards, Sam slid in the other side and settled into the middle. Dean sat on his other side. Just the fact that the older boy didn’t even ask about driving his car let Mary know that he really wasn’t feeling well.

John climbed in the driver’s seat and Mary got in next. Her husband started up the car and they drove off. Mary didn’t even look back at the burning building that they were leaving behind.

The car was silent except for the familiar rumble of the engine as they drove. Mary really wanted to start a conversation, but she just didn’t know what to say. She was thrilled to have Dean back, but wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about anything right then. So instead, she waited to see if he’d say something. But after a while, she glanced back and the sight that greeted her brought a small smile to her face. Her boys had fallen asleep. Sam was leaning up against Anderson, who was still unconscious and hadn’t so much as stirred. Her youngest son was snoring softly and had one arm wrapped around his older brother who had all but collapsed across the smaller boy’s lap. As Mary watched, Dean twitched slightly and Sam (still completely asleep) rubbed his hand across the teenager’s arm to comfort him. It was really sweet.

“John, we should stop soon. I want to check Dean over for injuries and both boys need a proper bed to sleep in. And we need to raid a hospital or something because I don’t think that Anderson’s going to make it much longer if we don’t get blood in him. Maybe we should just take him to a hospital so he could get proper care…”

“We can’t. How will we explain his wounds? And it’s not like we can just drop him and run. Anderson’s not some nameless hunter. He’s a cop. The questions that’ll be asked and the investigation afterwards…”

“I know. But even if we get blood into him and stitch him up, his shoulder might still have permanent damage. What then?”

She saw her husband shake his head. “We figure that out then. For now we worry about tonight.”

Mary glanced back and saw Sam shift slightly, making Dean bury his head further into his brother and Anderson let out a soft moan. She looked back out the window in time to see a sign.

“There’s a hospital next exit. If we park around back, one of us can go in and get the supplies we need. It won’t be the first time we’ve done this.” Sure it was a lot easier when Castiel could just pop in and do it, but sometimes he’d be needed to stay with Dean, so she and John had handled the thieving. 

“Should we pick up anything else while we’re there?”

“Only if the supply room is close by. If not, I think we have enough stuff in the trunk.” They’d come prepared, expecting Dean to be in bad shape after spending so much time with Alastair. 

“Alright.”

Mary looked back at her sons again as they turned off onto the exit ramp. She was so thrilled to have Dean back and really hoping that everything would go smoothly now.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam woke up as he felt the car come to a stop. Woke up? Huh… he didn’t even remember falling asleep. He felt someone move against him and tightened his grip instinctively. Dean. Sam knew without looking that Dean was lying against him. And if the tiny noises he was making were any indication, the older boy was either in pain or distress. Or both. Sam rubbed circles into his back as he adjusted his head to try and get more comfortable. Wait… what was he leaning up against? Sam cracked an eye open just as he felt his ‘pillow’ take a shallow, shuddering breath. Anderson. The boy shifted slightly, hoping to avoid putting any pressure on his friend’s injured shoulder. 

Dean mumbled something and Sam ran a hand through his short hair, trying not to notice how it was stiff with dried blood. He really didn’t want to contemplate all the injuries his brother had received that had contributed to that. 

“S’mmy?”

“Here, Dean.”

“’Kay.”

When there was no further response, Sam assumed that Dean had drifted off again. Sam also tried to go back to sleep. He was really tired and kind of sore and the whole experience had just been a bit much. The boy was extremely grateful that he’d gone along, but it had been one hell of a trip. His first official hunt and it had been… well, there wasn’t really a word that would do it justice. Not without using the kind of language that Dean often used but would get Sam in trouble.

Of course, now it made sense to Sam why Dean had always been allowed to swear and hunt and do all kinds of stuff that no parent in their right mind would allow a child to do. Because Dean was never really just a child. If what Sam had been told and had seen was all correct, and he was understanding everything correctly, then part of Dean _had_ been the age he’d always appeared to be. But there was always a part of him that was an adult. So their parents had treated him accordingly. _That_ had had to be confusing for everyone. Especially Dean. Sam wondered how he’d figured out his way when he’d first arrived back in his child body. He wondered if Dean ever regretted coming back.

Sam didn’t regret it. Sure, it had led to times like this, with Dean being a target and their family up against Heaven and Hell, but from what he saw, that would’ve eventually happened anyways. And if Dean hadn’t done what he had, Sam would never have known their mom, would always be at odds with their dad (kind of like these past few weeks), wouldn’t have had a home to grow up in, and just… well, that entire life seemed to suck. Except for having Dean. 

Sam sighed. He’d really need to talk with Dean when they got home. Whether Dean wanted to or not. Because his brother would be hurting physically, mentally, and emotionally after all of this and Sam wouldn’t let him go through that alone. And Sam couldn’t go through any of this alone either. 

As he was trying to plan out how he’d get Dean to open up, Sam felt his mind start to drift. Sleep was coming back to him. Oh… good. The boy buried his head back into Anderson and held Dean tight as he welcomed the peaceful darkness that greeted him.


	180. Tension

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty: Tension 

His dreams were filled with pain and fear and all kinds of troubling crap, but still Dean was far too tired to wake up. Besides, every time he started to stir, a small comforting hand would stroke his arm, his back, or run through his hair and Sammy’s voice would tell him that he was okay and that everything would be alright. So Dean kept on sleeping. That is, until the car had pulled to a stop and the backdoor on his side was pulled open. 

With a reluctant groan, Dean forced his eyes open and tried to sit up. But his little brother tightened his grip on the hunter and kept the taller boy held firmly in place. The hunter smiled a bit as he tapped on the leg he was using as a pillow.

“Hey, Sammy. Wakey, wakey.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah. I think it’s time to get up.”

“Sorry to wake you boys.” Their mother’s voice met his ears. He turned to see her standing by the open door. “But we’re at a motel now and we need to get you guys inside. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Sam released his hold on him and Dean slowly sat up. Damn. His back was bugging him and he still felt exhausted. And hungry. And like crap. Damn. 

“Can you reach over and hold onto Anderson for a moment?” His mom requested. “Your dad is going to open that door and we don’t want him to fall out.”

“Okay.” Dean leaned over his brother to try and get a grip on the cop without holding onto the guy’s messed up arm. He grabbed onto the man’s shirt with both hands and saw that Sam was holding Anderson around his waist. “All set.”

The door opened and sure enough, Dean felt the police officer’s weight shift and he held on tight. A moment later, he let go as his parents extracted Anderson from the car. Afterwards, he released his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Sam joined him and they followed their parents into one of the motel rooms. 

“We have two adjoining rooms.” His father informed them. “One with a king sized bed, one with two queens.”

“Not a problem. Sam and I can share, you guys grab one, and give the last bed to Anderson.” Dean shrugged. “We’ll take the queen bed room with Anderson. Best not to leave him alone right now just in case.” At seeing his parents about to protest, and knowing that they didn’t want to be separated after just getting him back he continued on. “And we can always leave the door open between the rooms so that you guys can keep an eye on us.”

“That’ll work.” His dad approved, lying Anderson down on one of the beds.

Dean walked over to look at the guy. He looked dead. His skin was completely pale except for the bruising that had appeared on his face and arms and would probably be worse if there was more blood in his body to make them darker. Dean placed a hand on Anderson’s head to find it cool and sweaty. Not a good sign. A check of his heartbeat (way too rapid and not in a steady rhythm) confirmed that the cop was suffering from hypovolemic shock. And not an early stage either. If they didn’t get blood and fluids in him soon…

“Step aside, buddy. We need room to work.”

Dean looked up to see his dad standing there with their IV hookup and a handful of other medical stuff, along with a bag of blood. Looked like they’d made a pit stop on their way here. 

“You know his blood type?”

Dean’s mom held up Anderson’s wallet. “He had it in here.”

Dean nodded. “Great, pick-pocketing a guy when he’s down. You know there’s no real challenge in that.” Then he got serious. “Need me to do anything?”

“Just sit back and rest up.” 

“I can…”

“I know you _can_. But you don’t have to. The two of us can handle this. You and Sam just sit down and relax for now. If we need anything, you’ll be the first one we call, okay?”

“Okay.” He reluctantly agreed. 

Dean sat down on the bed, with Sam right next to him. Honestly, he really wanted to go and take a shower. He wanted to wash all the dried blood off of his skin as it was beginning to really itch (not to mention the strong desire to try and scrub away the memories of the last three weeks), but he didn’t want to leave Sam right now and he also wanted to know that Anderson was going to make it. So, he sat there with one arm around his little brother and let his mind drift.

Of course, after all the crap he’d just gone through, his mind was drifting off to some very dark stuff. He was just starting to get lost in it all when Sam’s voice broke through.

“Hey, don’t go there, Dean.”

Dean chuckled. “You don’t even know what I was thinking about.”

“Sure I do. You had a look on your face. And I think I know enough about what goes on in your head to guess where your mind was heading.”

“I’ll give you that. “ Dean allowed. 

“So what were you…”

“Nothing.”

“Dean.”

“Look, it’s nothing that you need to worry about.”

Sam bit at his lip. “You always pull this, Dean! Always! Even back in the other timeline you’d never talk about stuff and…”

“What?” Their dad’s voice rang out. “How do you know about that?”

Silence filled the room.

“Sam?” Their mom prompted. “Dean?”

“Hey, don’t look at me.” Dean defended. “I was out when the whole thing took place.”

“Gabe told me.” Sam admitted. 

“What? Why?”

“’Cause I needed to know. And…”

“No, you didn’t. We didn’t tell you for very good reasons, Sam.” Their dad practically yelled. “So what, you weren’t getting the answers you wanted from me so you went and harassed an archangel.”

“No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what?”

“Hey!” Dean cut in. “Let’s do this later. Or never would be nice. But for now I think Anderson would appreciate it if you’d concentrate more on stitching him up than arguing with your son.”

His dad grumbled something, but turned back to what he’d been doing. Damn it. They were not going to take well to the whole story. Dean really wished that they could avoid a full disclosure. 

“I wasn’t trying to start anything.” Sam quietly confessed after a moment.

“I know. You’re just concerned.”

“I just… I’m here for you, Dean.”

“I know. But I really don’t wanna talk about it yet, okay?”

“Later, then.” Sam made it a statement instead of a question.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

 

John finished putting the bandage on his eldest son’s burned leg (and no, he really didn’t want to know what the teen had gone through to receive that burn) and smiled up at him. 

“Okay, Dean. All done here. Any other injuries that I should check on?” He gave him his concerned, but no nonsense look. 

Dean was sitting on the bed, his pants discarded on the floor and the blanket pooled in his lap. The boy had tried to convince his parents to let him take a shower first, but they’d insisted that his wounds needed to be looked at beforehand. And John was glad about that now. That burn couldn’t get wet. And he didn’t know what else was hiding under all of his son’s clothes and that dried blood.

“No, I think I’m good.”

“Are you certain?”

Dean didn’t answer and John followed his gaze to see that the teenager was watching Mary checking over Sam. Their youngest boy was mostly okay. He had a few cuts and bruises, but had made it from the battle with surprisingly little damage. But still, John knew that Dean was worried.

“Hey… Dean?” Still no response. “Buddy?” He reached out and gently touched the boy’s cheek, causing Dean to startle. He jumped and his gaze turned wild as he looked around for some sort of threat. “Hey, easy, Dean. It’s alright. It was just me.”

“Oh… okay.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just thinking.”

John looked him over again. He looked tired. And more than just ‘I need a good night’s sleep’ tired. The teenager looked exhausted down to his very core. And that was when the worried father saw the first signs of the true extent of the torture that his son had endured.

“Do you want to talk?”

“Nah… I just wanna shower and sleep.”

“Alright then.” John gave in. He wasn’t going to push Dean right then. “Well, your mom and I are gonna go next door and get ready for bed. You’ll come and get us if you need anything?” It was an order disguised as a question.

“’Course. ‘Night, Dad.” Dean gave him a hug. “And thanks… you know, for everything.”

John held him tightly. “Whenever you need us, Dean, we’ll be there.”

“I know.”

“Love you, son.”

“You too, Dad.”

John reluctantly released his eldest son and went to give Sam a goodnight hug. He heard Mary wishing Dean well and then he left the room with her. 

Once they were in their own room, he felt the impulse the close the connecting door and bury his head under the covers of the rather comfortable looking king-sized bed and not come back out for the next year or so. Not that he was trying to get away from his kids or anything, but the stress of this whole thing from the moment that his eldest son had disappeared, to the struggles and arguments of the search for him, to the rescue mission that turned out successful but exhausting… it was just a lot for him to deal with. And yeah, he was reacting to it all poorly.

“You need to stop picking fights with Sam.” Mary informed him quietly, as though reading his mind.

“I didn’t pick the fight.” He defended. “He…”

“John.” She stopped him mid-excuse. “You weren’t even willing to hear the boys out. You jumped on him the moment _that_ topic was brought up. And then of course Sam jumped on it too. And if you two don’t find a way past this, then _this_ will be what your relationship is stuck at for the rest of your lives. And Dean… did you see his face? What the arguing was doing to him? John, we talked about this. We need our family together. Now, more than ever. Not torn apart by arguing.”

John sighed heavily. “I know, Mary. Goddamnit, I know. It’s just… I’m tired and he…”

“Pushed your buttons. As unintentionally as he did it, he still did it.” Mary wrapped her arms around him. “John, I hate to tell you this, but your temper is shorter than the hair on Dean’s head.” She smiled up on him. “But we still love you, because you manage it well around us. You’ve never harmed me or the kids, you haven’t walked out in a fit of rage since… well, since all this craziness came into our lives, you don’t scream and swear around for no reason. But lately you’ve been unreasonably confrontational. And while I can deal with that, and Dean seems to be able to as well, Sam seems to butt heads with you during those times. And yeah, it’ll happen during his teen years, but let’s not let it happen for reasons that it doesn’t have to.”

“But we need to talk to him about how he found out about his brother.”

“Yes we do. Key word there is ‘talk’. No yelling, no accusations, no blaming. Okay?”

John sighed. “You better do the talking then.”

“That’s kind of where I was going with that thought.” She laughed.

He narrowed his eyes and jokingly shoved her backwards and onto the bed. She allowed herself to fall back, still smiling. “And I love you why?”

“More reasons than you can count.”

John shook his head as he climbed in next to her. “You’re right of course… but still that won’t save you for your comment.”

“We’ll see.”


	181. Dead of Night

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-One: Dead of Night 

The demons just kept coming. There was no end in sight. As soon as one wave of them had been disposed of, the next was rushing into the room to take their place. Scott was pushed back onto the hard floor by the creatures as they shoved their way in and he winced as his head impacted on the ground. His vision swam as he tried to concentrate on exorcising them. But they were tearing into him, slicing and cutting and even biting at him. The cop cried out and tried to get away from the demons. But there were far too many and he was weakening. Scott closed his eyes and tried as hard as he could to do something, _anything_ , to get the damned things off of him. 

Then they were gone. The young man groaned and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling through a haze of blood. He reached up and warily rubbed it away. Scott tried to sit up only to let out a gasp of pain. Everything hurt. Still he forced his body upright and looked down at himself. His clothes were torn, as was his skin, and there was red everywhere. How he was still alive with such awful injuries was beyond him. But he was. And that meant that he still had a job to do.

“What job?”

Scott looked up to see a man standing over him. How the hell had he known what Scott had been thinking?

“I…”

“Kill the demons? They will never stop coming. It’s a losing battle. Keep watch over your friends? Seems you already failed that.”

“What? No.” Scott turned his head to see two very dead young Winchesters. Their bodies were broken and cut open, eyes staring up at nothing, mouths twisted in frozen expressions of agony. The cop turned back to the man to find blood dripping down from his hands. “But how… I protected them.”

“The devil’s traps? Those can’t stop something like me.” Light seemed to radiated from the man. Glowing, bright wings burst from his back, stretching across the entire room and the face seemed to shift under the skin, revealing a partial image of the angel’s true self. Scott wondered how a human body was even capable of containing such a being.

“It doesn’t matter what you are.” The cop informed him. “I can still kill you. And you know I will for what you’ve done.”

“You think I’ll give you the chance?” 

Scott tried to ignore the taunt, the pain, and the feeling of failure as he reached out with his senses to grab a hold of the angel’s grace. But the moment he felt it and touched it with his mind, he felt like his entire being had been set on fire. Scott let out a cry and scrambled back and away from the angel, wincing and gasping. Then a foot was planted on his chest, which was still torn and shredded from the demons’ earlier attack, and pushed him back and onto the ground.

“Wha… what?” 

He looked up to see the angel looming over him, holding its blade high in the air. And that’s when he suddenly recognized who it was. Raphael. Then the blade was brought down and Scott tried to move out of the way, but couldn’t get far enough away. He found himself impaled to the floor by his right shoulder. He screamed out in agony. 

Scott rolled his head to the side to see that Raphael was gone. But while that was a good thing (maybe, because it left the question of why he left and where he went), the cop still couldn’t get up from the ground and was now bleeding out all over the floor. He reached up to pull the sword from his shoulder but could only grab onto the blade which sliced his fingers. There was no way that he could free himself.

In pain and despair, Scott dropped his left hand to the floor and laid still. Then he heard footsteps. He craned his neck to see who was entering. More demons? Or angels? Turned out to be none of the above. 

The rest of the hunters from the rescue mission were gathered in the doorway of the room, staring down at him. Scott breathed out a shaky sigh of relief.

“Please… help…”

“Why?” Rufus stepped forward. “Not like a freak like you could be of any use to us. Figure we’ll just stand here and watch you die.”

Scott shook his head, but already he felt like he was fading. “I…” He coughed, bringing up blood. Damn, that hurt.

“No, you’re right. It’s not the humane thing to do.” The hunter pulled out his gun and aimed it at Scott’s head. “This is so much better.” He grinned. 

“No!”

Scott tried to move to get out of the way and felt the blade cutting through his arm, ripping the limb almost completely off. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears running down his face as the pain became overwhelming, and he heard the safety release. He wasn’t going to make it. This was how he was going to die. 

Scott gasped as he twisted to the side and his shoulder protested the movement. But the pain wasn’t nearly as all consuming as it had been just a moment ago, and the hard floor under his back had magically been replaced with something warm and soft. He opened his eyes and took in the darkened room. The room that wasn’t the same as where he’d been just moments before. Scott was no longer on the floor of the abandoned factory that they’d gone to for the rescue mission. No, he was lying on a bed in what appeared to be a motel room. It took him a moment to realize that he’d just woken up from one hell of a nightmare. 

Scott looked around the room. Yeah. It was definitely a motel room. But how exactly had he gotten here? Last he could recall, he’d been… damn it… where had he been? In that room with the demons? No… they’d gotten out of there. He’d been in a hall. With Sam and Dean. But not Gabriel. He’d been gone. And they’d killed an angel. Raphael? No, that angel had only been in his dream… the one from the factory had been… Zachariah. Right. He remembered draining his grace and then nothing. Except he was certain that there’d been more after that. Something about arguing with someone. And being asked to do something… 

The room spun a bit and Scott closed his eyes. Concentrating wasn’t really one of his best skills right now. Side effect of blood loss. As was the weakness and exhaustion that he was experiencing. Only the memories of the dream he’d just woken up from kept him from just giving in and going back to sleep. Well, that and the fact that he really had to pee.

Taking a deep breath, Scott struggled into a sitting position. Yeah… that hurt like all hell. His shoulder throbbed and ached, his head spun, various other wounds made themselves known, and something pulled at the skin in his left arm. Scott looked down and saw an IV. What the… His gaze followed the line up and to a half-full bag of blood. Next to it was an empty one and an empty bag that had most likely been filled with saline solution due to the lack of red residue. He’d have to thank the Winchesters. And never mention to anyone that his life had been saved by supplies stolen from a hospital. Being an accomplice in stuff like that was a great way to end his career. 

After slowly and very carefully getting to his feet, Scott retrieved the bag from where it had been hung using a zip tie dangling from a nail where a painting had been taken off the wall. Bag securely in hand, he shuffled across the room and to the bathroom. The cop was completely spent by the time he had reached the door and needed to use the sink and counter to support himself just to make it the rest of the way.

After relieving himself, Scott sat on the closed toilet seat to rest up a bit before making the trip back. He really didn’t want to linger too long though, since he was getting a bit cold. His torn up and bloody shirt and pants had been removed, leaving him in just his boxers and multiple bandages (and he’d really be embarrassed about that if it hadn’t been done to save his life), and the air conditioning was on a bit too high. Besides, he was probably still a bit low on blood, which unfortunately came with the unpleasant side effect of chills. 

So, rather reluctantly, he struggled to his feet and left the room. Scott had just sat back down on his bed when he heard a sound come from the other bed. His tiredness disappeared as he snapped to a state of high alert. Sure, a toddler could probably outfight him right now, but if something was going on, he’d do his best to protect the others.

But when he looked over to where the sounds were coming from, he saw the Winchester kids lying on the bed fast asleep. And then Dean turned over and muttered something, his arm swinging violently and almost smacking into Sam. The smaller boy was still fast asleep but his hand reached out trying to feel for his brother. But Dean was now starting to thrash about. Thinking back to his own nightmare, and knowing that the teen/adult (and yeah, _that_ had been a hell of a shock to hear about… but it sure explained a lot about Dean) had a lot more fuel for them, Scott wrapped a blanket around himself and made his way over to the opposite bed.

He was about to wake Dean when he realized that that might not be the best idea. If the boy was suffering PTSD, he might just take a swing at Scott. Also, the likelihood that he’d let the cop offer comfort was a big zero. So instead, he reached out and shook the younger boy’s shoulder. He felt a bit bad for waking him. If Sam was sleeping through all of this, it meant that he was really tired and needed his sleep. But Scott was certain that he’d want to help Dean.

“Sam… hey, Sam…”

“Huh? Wha…”

“Sam, Dean’s having a bad nightmare. I think you should wake him.”

“Anderson? What are you… Dean!” Sam sat up and got to his knees, facing his brother.

Scott sat down at the foot of their bed, no longer able to stand due to his exhaustion and weakness. He watched as Sam gently rubbed circles on Dean’s back and called his brother’s name.

“Dean? Dean… c’mon, you gotta wake up, Dean. Please, Dean, wake up.”

The older boy’s eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly for a moment before turning and grabbing onto Sam’s hand.

“Sammy? Wha… where?”

Yep, those had pretty much been Scott’s questions upon waking.

“We’re safe. Still in the motel.”

Dean nodded, but he still seemed a bit unsure, then his gaze fell on Scott.

“Hey. Good to see you up and around. But uh… should you _be_ up and around?”

“I needed the bathroom.” Scott replied.

“It’s over there, dude. Don’t use my bed.”

Scott chuckled. “I already went.”

“He noticed you were having a nightmare.” Sam explained. “Woke me to wake you.”

Dean nodded, his expression unreadable. “Well, you should probably get back in bed. You still look like crap. And I’m pretty certain that the blood isn’t gonna flow uphill and into your arm.” He pointed at where Scott had placed the bag down on the mattress.

The cop shrugged his one good shoulder. The other had gone from painful to outright agony and the rest of the arm was practically numb. Yeah… he was gonna have to keep an eye on that and make certain that he didn’t mess up that limb any further than it already was. But for now he’d take Dean’s advice and get back to bed.

Scott stood up and practically dragged his feet back to his bed. Once there, the bag of blood was snatched from his hand by Dean, who’d followed him over, and hung back where it’d been before the cop had gotten up. He settled back under the covers and let out a sigh.

Dean sat down on the bed, Sam flopping down next to him. “Thanks for getting us out of there, man.”

Scott stared at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”

Dean looked at him strangely. “Uh… you know, when the place was about to blow. There was no way in hell we could’ve hauled ass outta there in time.”

The cop shook his head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. Sorry. Last thing I recall is being in a hall and… some arguing… or something like that.”

“Really? Damn… well, yeah, you and Rufus were in the middle of your standoff when we got a call that the whole place was gonna explode. And we were on the third floor. And had two minutes to get out.”

“Oh…” Scott tried hard to remember any of that but it was all just blank. He could almost recall Rufus yelling at him because… because he wouldn’t do something. Damn it. What was he missing here? There was someone that was hurt? No, dead. Rufus had wanted him to bring Caleb back from the dead. And Scott couldn’t. And really, that was a power that was far too great for any human to possess anyways. But still, while Scott knew that this argument had taken place, he couldn’t quite recall it. And didn’t know what had happened afterwards.

“Yeah,” Sam piped up. “And so we were trying to come up with a plan and you told us to all grab onto you and you held onto Caleb and then we were transported out to the Impala.”

Scott blinked. “Like, as in ‘angel transport’?”

“Exactly.” Dean confirmed. “Except a bit rougher. And next time you gotta work on your aim. ‘Cause when Sammy says ‘to the Impala’, he really means ‘right on top of the Impala’.”

“Oh… uh, sorry?”

“Well, I’ll let any scratches on her go this time since you saved our lives. But watch it from now on.”

Scott smiled. “I make no promises. Especially since I have no clue how I did that and will likely mess it up next time too.”

“Aim for a different target then.” Dean advised.

“Well, we’re all in one piece.” Scott defended.

“You call that one piece?” The older boy gestured to him.

“Hey, that’s not his fault.” Sam pointed out.

“Didn’t say it was. I was just refuting his claim.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Well, the guy that ‘isn’t in one piece’ and ‘still looks like crap’ should probably get some more rest.”

“Of course.” Sam nodded. “We won’t keep you up. We need sleep too.”

Scott watched the brothers get up to return to their bed. They’d only taken a couple steps when suddenly Castiel appeared right in front of them. 

“Cas!” Dean exclaimed, the relief and joy apparent in his voice. Then in a more smug tone, he added “See, _that’s_ how you do angel transport correctly.”


	182. Home Again

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Two: Home Again 

Relief. Damn, the emotion was so freakin’ strong that Dean felt he’d just drown in it. Cas was alright. And he was here. Not trapped up in Heaven with some winged douche torturing the crap outta him. All of the tension that Dean had felt seemed to drain from his body. All the half-formed plans in his head (from trying to get Anderson to see if he could extend his ability to listen in to angel talk in Heaven to contacting Death himself for help to storm the pearly gates and drag Cas out of there himself) just blanked out. So Dean did what he always did; he tried to cover his emotions with a quip and brush it all off. 

But when Cas smiled and said “It is good to see you alive and well, Dean.”, Dean dropped the whole act and returned the smile. “Yeah, you too Cas.” And then suddenly, for some reason, he was hugging the angel. Crap. There went his tough-guy rep. He pulled back but could still feel the stupid grin on his face. He’d have to do something about that. “How the hell did you escape? We heard that Raphael had grabbed up all the angels. I’d assumed the worst.”

“I never met Raphael up there.”

“So you _were_ in Heaven?”

“Yes. And Raphael _did_ forcefully extract all the angels in that building.”

Dean made a face. “But… you said…”

“Michael intervened. It appears that he truly is on our side.”

Dean walked over and sat down. He really needed to be sitting. Because this was news that you didn’t get standing up, while exhausted, at way-too-damned-early-o’clock in the morning. Not if you didn’t want to fall over.

“Wait, so he’s really not just playing us?”

“Not unless he’s taking lying lessons from Lucifer.” Cas confirmed.

“Well… damn.” Dean looked over to Anderson. The cop was nice enough not to look smug. “Guess you were right about him.”

The guy shrugged his one working shoulder. “Yeah, well I have an unfair advantage when it comes to judging angels.”

“Sorry I didn’t take your word for it. But it wasn’t just the ‘lack of nice angels’ thing or even the whole ‘Mikey needs to wear me as his fancy suit’ thing. I knew him from before. You know, the first time around. And he wasn’t on our team back then.”

Cas’ eyes widened. “Dean? You shouldn’t be…”

“Oh, it’s cool. Gabe told Sam the whole deal about me and Anderson was in the room at the time.”

“Oh.” Was all the angel said.

“You miss out on a lot when you take a vacation to Heaven.” Dean teased, even though he knew that all of that had to have taken place before his friend had been yanked up there.

“Well, I will refrain from making that trip again in the near future.”

“That would be a really great idea.” Dean agreed.

Cas sat down on Dean’s bed and Dean gave him an abridged version of the events of the fight that he’d missed. Then Cas told them of his meeting with Michael and how the archangel had proved to be helpful and had seemed so different from the being they’d known from before. 

“Guess we have changed things.” Dean commented.

“You’ve done a lot of good. More than even you realize.” Sam commented sleepily, leaning up against him.

“It will be impossible to predict how anyone will react from here on out.”

“’Cept it seems that Raphael won’t be happy.” Anderson added. Truthfully, Dean had thought that the cop had fallen back asleep a while ago. The guy’s eyes had been closed the last ten minutes or so.

“Yeah, that’s a given.” Dean nodded. “I say we bring all the angels down here, have Anderson give them a reading. We off the ones that have crappy intentions, keep the good ones, and everything will be much better.” Cas gave him a look. “What? I thought it was a good plan.”

“What about Hell?” Sam asked. “Who will be in charge with Alastair gone?”

Dean shrugged. “Crowley may try if the time’s right. But if there’s still too much pro-Luci crap, he’ll have to be careful. If he doesn’t take lead, there might be chaos for a while. Either way, it means no real apocalyptic plans from them for a while at least.”

“Perhaps this meeting should take place after you’ve all rested more.” Cas suggested when Sam let out a gigantic yawn.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, but was a bit wary. His dream from before had really sucked. Nothing like weeks of torture and then a walk down crappy-memory lane to re-awaken the worst of the nightmares.

“I know you’ve not needed my assistance lately, Dean. But maybe tonight…”

“Yeah sure. If you’ve nothing better to do.”

Cas smiled. “Nothing better at all.”

Dean stretched out and felt the familiar, reassuring warmth of the angel’s hand being placed on his forehead. Moments later, he succumbed to sleep.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

She wasn’t stalking the Winchesters. She really wasn’t. Emily was just concerned about their family. Her friend had been kidnapped from their graduation party by demons, so really, there was a perfectly good reason for her to be concerned. So calling their house everyday for updates and such was a normal reaction. And when no one picked up, her going over and checking for signs of forced entry or blood or anything like that was also perfectly reasonable. And the fact that she kept going back throughout the day and now was back bright and early the following morning was also not an over-reaction. 

The only good thing about the whole situation was that there hadn’t been any signs of struggle, or dead bodies in the house. And the Impala was gone. Dean had once told her of the arsenal that he kept in the trunk. So, maybe they’d finally located her friend and had gone off to rescue him. Positive thoughts. Because picturing the entire family that she’d come to like dead at the hands of demons wasn’t doing her any good.

But as she pulled up in front of the house, Emily still saw no sign that anyone was back. She parked her car, got out and walked up to the door. She unlocked it with the key that she’d been given, and slipped inside. The teen quickly made her way through the house, checking all the areas that she knew that there were devil’s traps just in case there was something trapped in one (not that she’d know what to do if she found a demon in one… try to get information from it? or just exorcise it with the Latin spell-thing that Dean had written down for her?). When the house proved to still be clear, she left, locking the door behind her. 

As she walked back to her car, already making plans to stop back there in the afternoon, she decided that she was merely house-sitting for the Winchesters. Definitely _not_ stalking them.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

They had left the motel much later than they’d really planned on, but then again, Dean, Sam, and Anderson had all slept in. Of course, Sam figured that it was probably because they’d been awake for so long in the middle of the night. And then their dad had gone out and brought back breakfast, which Dean had practically inhaled before running to the bathroom to throw most of it back up. He hadn’t eaten in so long that his rapid eating really hadn’t been the best idea. So their parents had made him take a short break before trying again with a smaller portion and at a slower pace. 

Then they’d packed up and hit the road. Cas had transported himself back home due to lack of room in the car for another passenger. Everyone else was driving because Dad and Mom were paranoid about splitting the family up. So Sam was back in the middle of the backseat, listening to music played a bit too loudly, and constantly glancing over at Dean thankful that he was looking better than he had last night. Sure, he was too thin, too pale, too haunted-looking, and all, but he was alive and they’d be back home together in a matter of hours. 

On his other side, Anderson was asleep again. Sam figured that his lost blood hadn’t been replaced completely. But he wasn’t dying anymore. So yeah, that was good too. 

And Sam’s parents seemed to have made it through the whole experience like Sam had; with bumps, bruises, and some cuts. A few bandages here and there and some rest and they’d be alright. Oh and the rest of their lives to get over the emotional trauma of everything that had happened. But he figured that Dean was in that same position too. And they’d already decided to get through this together. Which was great, because Sam didn’t think he could handle this on his own. 

It was funny, but he hadn’t been _that_ scared at first when he’d just been fighting his way through the waves of demons and then angels. A bit frightened? Sure. But it had also been a bit exhilarating and he’d been protected by Gabriel and Anderson. But when he’d found Dean… that’s when he’d really been afraid. He needed to remember to thank Anderson for not letting him see the state his brother was in, because judging by the other’s reactions, it was something he’d never be able live with in his head and stay sane. But still, knowing Dean was in that bad condition had caused him such panic. And then, everything after that had just been such a rollercoaster… Sam wasn’t sure how to even get off that ride now. But his brother would help. And he’d help Dean. And everything would be okay eventually. Because it had to be. They’d made it through too much for it not to be.

But that was for later. He didn’t want to say anything in the car because they had yet to tell their parents that he’d been through Dean’s memories. ‘Cause they both knew that _that_ was not going to go over well. They weren’t happy that Sam knew the truth about Dean in the first place, so the fact that Sam has _seen_ stuff from Dean’s past and actually knew more than they did… well, that was going to be one hell of a conversation. And it wasn’t one that they were up for having right then.

So Sam leaned into Dean, closed his eyes, concentrated on the too-loud music, and tried to drift off.

And apparently at some point, he succeeded because he was awoken when Dean shook him.

“Hey, Sammy. We’re home.”

“Yeah? Okay.” And if Dean hadn’t shifted to get out, Sam would’ve buried his head back into his brother and gone back to sleep. But Dean was getting out, which meant that Sam had to as well.

He climbed out of the car and turned to see his dad helping Anderson out. “You’re going to stay here until at least tomorrow. Just a precaution. Don’t want anyone coming after you or you passing out on your kitchen floor or anything.”

Anderson nodded, but still seemed a bit out of it. Maybe they shouldn’t’ve kept him up half the night when he was in such bad condition…

Sam followed Dean into the house and upstairs. The older brother went straight into his room and stripped off his clothes and tossed them onto the ground. Sam turned to give him privacy as Dean got dressed into fresh clothes that hadn’t been conjured up by an archangel. Sam flopped down on the bed.

“How are you feeling, Dean?”

“’Kay.”

“So, probably like crap and not really in the mood to discuss it.”

Dean chuckled. “One trip through ‘Dean Winchester memory lane’ and you can already speak my language.”

“Well, that and living with you all my life.” Sam admitted. 

“So, how are you handling everything, Sammy?”

“Not well. But I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk.” He felt the bed move as Dean sprawled out next to him. He rolled over to face his brother. “I’m not gonna push you.”

“Thanks. But if there’s anything you really need to talk about that doesn’t include the screwed up stuff you saw in my head…”

“I’ll let you know.” Sam agreed. Then he looked at Dean’s band tee and jeans and realized that something was missing from his brother’s typical dress code. He sat up excitedly. “I got something to give you!” Sam reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the amulet that his brother had worn everyday for as long as Sam could remember. And now the boy finally knew why. Because he’d seen that memory. The one where a young version of himself had given him the necklace for Christmas one year in a shabby motel room when they’d been left alone for the holiday. 

Dean’s eyes widened. “What? But how?”

“I found it in that room where… where we found you. It was in a pile of your clothes on the floor. They were… uh, beyond saving, but this was okay. And I knew what it meant to you. I picked it up while you were patching up Anderson. I just hadn’t gotten a chance to give it back until now.”

Dean smiled a really nice, genuine smile. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“No problem. But I really should’ve waited for Christmas, huh?”

Dean took the amulet and slipped it over his head with a grin. “Sure. Then I would’ve given you a Barbie doll in return.”


	183. What Matters

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Three: What Matters 

Her heart sped up when Emily saw that Dean’s car was parked in front of their house once more. Someone was home again. And that meant that there was news. Hopefully good. Oh God, please let it be good news.

She parked her car and got out. Emily was almost to the door before realizing that she hadn’t locked her door and had left her purse in the backseat. She was tempted to forget about it and just go into the house, but her iron knife was in that bag and she didn’t feel comfortable going in with just the holy water vial in her pocket. Because what if there were demons holding the Winchesters hostage? Okay, if that was the case, and the evil creatures had overpowered a family of experienced hunters, a teenage girl wouldn’t stand a chance… iron knife or not. But still, better safe than sorry. So, she ran back to her car, retrieved her bag, closed the door, and hurried back to the front steps. 

Emily had let herself into the house before realizing that she probably should’ve rang the bell and waited be invited inside. But her anxiety, combined with the fact that she was now used to just going on in, had controlled her actions. So she stood just inside the door, looking around. 

No one was in the living room except for a young man that was sleeping on the couch. His right arm was held tight to his body by a sling and even with the lights dimmed she could see the paleness of his skin and the bruises and cuts. After a moment, Emily recognized him as the cop that had been on the news after her graduation. According to the reports, he’d stopped some guy that’d tried to attack her class. The Winchesters had informed her that Officer Anderson was actually a friend of theirs and had fought off demons and an angel that had been after the family. But since he hadn’t been here for the last couple days, Emily was willing to bet that his injuries weren’t from graduation day, but instead from whatever the family had been up to recently. That wasn’t a good sign… It could mean that whatever had happened had gone very badly. Of course, maybe it was just a case of ‘hanging out with Winchesters was dangerous for your health’.

Before she had time to think further on what a friend of the family being seriously injured could mean for Dean (had the demons targeted the Winchesters and company? Or had the family launched a rescue mission?), she heard footsteps coming from the kitchen. Emily reached into her pocket for her holy water. She tensed, but then relaxed as Mary, John, and Cas entered the room. The hunters had anti-possession tattoos and angels couldn’t be demons. 

“Emily?” Mary asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I just… you guys haven’t been around and I didn’t know what was going on and…” She shrugged, suddenly not sure how to ask about what had happened or to let them know that she’d been keeping tabs without it seeming like she was a bit crazy.

Luckily, she didn’t have to keep talking. “We got a lead on Dean.”

“And?”

“He’s upstairs.”

Emily felt like her heart had stopped for a moment. Dean was upstairs. He was home. Safe. But… “Is he alright?”

“He’s been through a lot. But I’m sure he’d appreciate some company.”

She nodded, smiled, then turned and headed for the stairs. Emily took them two at a time to the top and started for Dean’s room. But before she got that far, she saw Sam poking his head out of his room. Emily waved to him. Sam grinned and slipped out into the hall.

“Hi. Guess you’re here for Dean, but you’ll have to wait. He’s in the shower.”

And now that she listened, Emily _could_ hear water running. “Oh, well… I can wait.”

“He shouldn’t be too much longer.” The younger boy commented, sounding a bit unsure. “But if you want to sit down, you can wait in my room.”

“Thanks.”

Emily followed him into his room and sat down on the edge of his bed. She looked around; taking in the books, toys, video games, and clothes stacked on the shelves that lined the walls. It was so different from Dean’s room.

“Dean should be finishing up soon. He’s been in there _forever_. ‘Course, he hasn’t taken a shower in over three weeks, so I guess he’s entitled to stay in there for as long as he wants.” Sam shrugged. 

“I can wait.” Emily assured him again. “So… how is he?”

“Okay, I guess. I mean, Alastair tortured him brutally for weeks and took him apart and he doesn’t want to talk about it. Not that I can blame him. It must’ve been awful. I can’t even imagine…” Sam shuddered. “When we found him… well, I didn’t see it but I think he should’ve been dead except for some spell or something.”

Emily wanted to tell him to stop talking. She really didn’t want to know how badly Dean had been hurt. But then again, if she was going to go and see him, she guessed she’d better be prepared. And it seemed that Sam really wanted to talk. “So, he’s in really bad shape now? But you said…”

“He _was_ in really bad shape. But Gabriel healed him. Mostly. But he’s still in some pain. And he’s… haunted. But he’s not just dealing with the torture stuff, he’s also got all the stuff from…” Sam’s eyes widened almost comically and he shut his mouth. After a moment, he dropped his head. “Oh man, I suck. I almost… uh! I can’t say any more.”

Emily thought over what he’d been saying. It wasn’t too hard to put one and one together and get two. “You discovered his secret.”

“Yeah. But I can’t tell you. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to. I like you, and Dean likes you, but that’s _why_ I can’t tell you. Because it’s not my place to tell you and if I do and Dean finds out it’ll mess things up between you two. And I don’t want to do that. ‘Cause Dean’s never had someone like you in his life before and he needs you. And he’ll tell you his secret one day. I know he will.”

Emily laughed at Sam’s rambling. “I wasn’t even going to ask you to tell me.”

“You weren’t?”

“If you remember, not too long ago, _I_ was the one telling _you_ that I understood why Dean kept his secrets.”

“Oh, yeah.” Just then, she heard the water turn off. Sam looked over at the clock and made a face. “I think he stopped his shower because we’re probably out of hot water.”

Emily laughed. “Well, just wait a while before you go in for one then.”

Sam nodded in agreement. After a moment, he spoke again. “You probably know this, but don’t force him to talk about stuff. You know, the torture or anything. He’s having a hard time with it all.”

Well, that was probably an understatement. Emily couldn’t even believe that this family was functioning with everything that they’d been through, let alone just going about their business and inviting her in like it was just another day. But everyone had their own ways of dealing with stuff. Her; well, Emily was pretty damned sure that she’d be catatonic if a demon even started to torture her. But she’d have to be blind not to see the strength that Dean had.

“Got it.” She rose as she heard a door open and footsteps in the hall. “See you later Sam.”

He nodded and gave her a smile.

Emily left his room just as a door down the hall closed. She walked to where she knew his room was and paused. Taking a deep breath, the teen knocked on Dean’s door.

“Yeah, I’ll clean up the wet towels from the bathroom floor later!”

She was torn between laughing at his comment and fainting from relief at hearing his voice. Without any further hesitation, she turned the knob and pushed her way into his room.

“Why do I doubt that you’re actually going to clean up the mess in there?”

Dean’s head jerked up from where he’d been looking down at a really awful burn that he’d been tending to on his left leg. Emily took a moment to get a good look at him. He was sitting on his bed, shirtless and still a bit wet from his shower, with his left pantleg rolled up to expose the injury that he had just started treating. His ribs showed just a bit too much for him to be healthy and his skin was far too pale. There were wounds running the length of what she could see of his back in various stages of healing; some looked to be almost completely faded (had to be thanks to the archangel because no one healed _that_ fast), while others still looked pretty fresh. Some even had raw areas and partially to mostly healed areas. A semi-healed cut ran across his chest. There were some older scars on his body as well, but whether they were healed wounds from this occasion or from previous hunts, Emily couldn’t tell. But what she _did_ know, was that surprising the traumatized teen was most likely a bad idea. 

Dean dropped the burn cream and gauze and held up his hands like he was ready for a fight. Seeing her, he relaxed and a smile came to his face.

“Well, if I cleaned up the bathroom myself, it wouldn’t give my mom anything constructive to do with her day.”

Emily nodded, walking in and closing the door. “Yeah, now she’ll get to clean _and_ yell at you.”

Dean picked up his first aid supplies. “Nah, I get a free pass from being yelled at because I just got back. But tomorrow I’ll have to be on my best behavior.”

Okay, that was enough playing it cool. Emily crossed the room quickly, sat on the bed next to him, and pulled Dean into a tight hug. It was so good to see him. To hold him. To know that he was alive and no longer in the hands of an evil demon. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” She all but whispered. She wouldn’t say that she was glad that he was okay, because they both knew that him being okay was a lie.

“Yeah, me too. Sorry to worry everyone.”

“Just don’t do it again and it’ll be alright.”

“Can’t promise that.”

And damn if that wasn’t the truth. But she’d known that. Ever since they’d really become good friends, he’d never hid the fact that his life was dangerous. This had just been the worst experience she’d been around to see. But here he was, telling her that it could happen again. And if she still wanted to be his friend, she needed to accept that.

She released her hold on him and sat back. “I know.” She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “But maybe next time, try not to do it during an important event like graduation. You missed out on setting off your fireworks.”

Apparently that was the right thing to say, because he laughed before returning to his first aid efforts. “Did they ever find my stash?”

“No. They had more important things to worry about.”

He looked up at her curiously. “What things?”

“Oh, yeah. You wouldn’t know, huh? Well, the official story is that some crazy guy attacked the school and Officer Anderson fought him off. But I guess what really happened was that he fought off some demons and an angel. Anyways, the investigation into that took priority over the fireworks rumor.”

Dean nodded. “Well, I’ll have to go retrieve them at some point. I missed the Fourth of July, but maybe I’ll have my own celebration at some point.”

Emily rummaged through the open first aid kit and snatched up a tube of antibiotic ointment. “Shift over so I can get to your back.” 

“I got it.”

She eyed him skeptically. “You’re going to get this stuff on your own back, put gauze on the wounds, and secure them all by yourself? You never told me that you were a contortionist.”

“You never told me you were such a smart-ass.”

“Thought you’d figured it out over the years.” She gave him her best pleading look. “Please, Dean. You don’t want those to get infected.”

He sighed somewhat dramatically. “Fine.”

When he turned slightly, she started gently covering the wounds with the ointment. And trying not to think about what could’ve made them or how bad he’d looked before being healed. 

They sat working in silence for a few minutes until Dean was all patched up. Then her friend packed all the stuff back up and tossed the kit onto the floor. He leaned back against the headboard and sighed. Emily scooted up to sit next to him. 

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I know. But…”

“I get it. It’s not something you want to be focusing on.”

He looked at her and she was reminded of Sam’s description of him; ‘haunted’. But the look in his eyes was also so old that she again couldn’t connect them with his youthful face. Dean had been through far too much.

“No. But I really don’t know how to get it all out of my head.”

“Well, at some point you’ll have to deal with it all, but until then we can just get your mind off of it.” She looked around his room. “What do you do for fun around here?”

“Usually? Kill monsters.”

“Yeah… not helping.” Emily got up and went over to his CD player. She selected a CD from the top of his stack and popped it in. Then she pulled the darts out of his board on the way back to the bed. When she reached him, loud music had already filled his room. Emily flopped down on the bed next to him. “I challenge you to darts.”

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Seriously? Do you even know how to throw darts?”

She scoffed. “Of course I do. Bet I beat you too.”

He rolled his eyes and took the black ones from her hand, leaving her the red ones. The first one he threw hit the bulls-eye.

Emily carefully aimed and threw a dart. It hit the wall next to the dartboard. 

“You’ll beat me, huh?”

“Well, I would if you weren’t such a freak. I mean really, who can hit a bulls-eye while lying on a bed, across the room, at this weird angle.”

“Anyone who’s ever played before.” Dean countered. “Have you?”

“That’s not the point. The point is that it’s an impossible shot.”

Dean smirked and threw another dart. Another bulls-eye. “Impossible? Really? Am I that good, or are you just that bad?”

“First off, I never said you were good.” She pointed out.

“Okay then, so that means you must just suck at this.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Then she refocused on the game and threw her second dart. This time it hit the board. Barely.

“Well, I’m getting better.”

“Couldn’t have gotten worse.” He teased.

She shoved him and he laughed. As he took aim again, she realized that just a bit of the tension had eased from his body and the haunted look had lessened. Mission accomplished. Hopefully one day he’d be able to open up and talk about stuff and really get past everything, but for the moment, he was home, safe and he was happier. And that was what mattered.


	184. Overnight

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Four: Overnight 

Mary draped the blanket over Anderson and turned off the lamp in the corner of the living room. She’d considered waking the cop to move him to Castiel’s room where he’d probably be more comfortable, but the young man hadn’t so much as stirred for the last three hours since dinner, so she figured he really needed the rest. Besides, John was already in bed and if the cop stumbled on the way to the bedroom, Mary was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to support him by herself. Sure he didn’t weigh much, but he was tall and that could very well upset her balance and if he ended up on the floor with even more injuries, she’d feel awful. So, in the end, she’d tucked Anderson in on the couch and left him there. It was closer to the bathroom if he needed it during the night anyways.

Then she quietly went up the stairs and to Dean’s room. Mary opened the door and went to tell Emily that it was time for her to go home, but stopped just as she’d opened her mouth. Both teens were lying on the bed fast asleep. Music was still playing from the CD player that had been moved to the nightstand and was a bit quieter since Sam had gone to sleep a while ago. There were playing cards scattered all over their laps and some had fallen onto the floor. Mary glanced around the room and saw that there were a few small pinprick holes in the wall around the dartboard that had definitely _not_ been made by her marksman of a son. The now-empty dinner plates had been abandoned on the floor. With a sigh, she crossed the room to gather them up. She thought about waking the teenage girl to send her home, but knew that Emily must’ve been worn out from worrying about her friend for so long for her to fall asleep like that. Besides, with the girl’s head slumped over onto Dean’s shoulder, it was very likely that he’d wake up if she was to stir. So, for the second time in just a few minutes, Mary found herself rounding up blankets to tuck in a sleeping-over guest. And, of course, her son. 

After making sure both were comfortable, and kissing Dean on the forehead, Mary headed downstairs to grab the phone. She dialed the number for the Sullivan household. It was answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Sullivan? This is Mary Winchester.”

“Oh, Mary! Hi! Thanks for calling. I was beginning to worry since Emily wasn’t back yet. Is she on her way?”

“Actually that’s why I’m calling. Her and Dean were watching a movie after dinner and she fell asleep on the couch. I can wake her to send her home if you’d like, but I also don’t mind throwing a blanket over her and letting her spend the night. I’d hate for her to have to drive home if she’s this tired.”

There was a brief pause on the other end and then Emily’s mom responded. “Of course she can stay there if it’s alright with you.” There was another pause and Mary was about to say goodbye when the other woman spoke again. “How’s your son doing? Emily hasn’t said anything to me, but she keeps going over there and she seems so worried. I asked her if Dean was alright and she looked upset and told me that she just needed to go. I wanted to call you for a while to see if everything was okay, but Emily can get so bent out of shape if she thinks I’m invading her privacy… you know how teenagers are. I figured she’d tell me eventually, but now that I have you on the phone…”

Mary tried to think of something to say. Because _well, Dean was captured by demons and angels and tortured for the last three weeks but he’ll be alright eventually_ probably wouldn’t work. “There was a bit of an accident with a car that he was working on for his Uncle Bobby. Equipment malfunction. Anyways, Dean was injured and had to stay in the hospital there for a bit and Emily was probably just concerned about him. She’d stop by here to see if he was home yet.” Mary made a mental note to relay this cover story to Emily in the morning. 

“Oh god, that’s terrible! That poor boy has been through far too much.”

_If only you knew._ “Yeah, but he’s back home now and recovering well. And he really did appreciate your daughter’s visit today.”

“Well, if there’s anything we can do to help…”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well, goodnight then.”

“I’ll send your daughter home tomorrow morning.”

Mrs. Sullivan made a dismissive noise. “Oh, let her stay with her friend for as long as she wants tomorrow. I mean, as long as it’s alright with you.”

“Okay then. Goodnight.” Mary hung up the phone and let out a sigh. 

She turned around and started to leave the room, heading for the stairs. Everyone else in the house was asleep. It was past time that she got to bed as well.

“Mary.”

The hunter spun around and went into a defensive position even as her brain recognized that it had been Castiel’s voice that she had heard. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I apologize. I just though I’d tell you that everyone is still alright.”

The angel had gone to check up on the other hunters and make certain they’d all made it back okay. 

“Well, thank you. I know you were planning on spending the night in Dean’s dreams in case he needed you, but his friend fell asleep in his room, so please be quiet when you go in there. And pull over his desk chair, because there’s not a lot of room on the bed.”

Castiel inclined his head slightly and then was gone. Mary sighed and then headed for her bedroom. It had been a long day. But her whole family was home now and she had to believe that things would just keep getting better with every day.

...  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam blinked as he was transported from the warded room that held Alastair standing over Dean’s broken and bloody corpse to a bar where the adult version of his brother was leaning against a pool table and holding a cue. For a moment, the boy tried to figure out if he was somehow back in Dean’s memories. But then he saw Cas standing next to himself and realized that he’d been having a nightmare and the angel had gotten him out of there and brought him into his older brother’s dream. Just like he had all those years ago. But unlike then, Dean didn’t bother to go back to his ‘kid form’ but stayed looking like an adult as he placed the cue down on the pool table and approached.

“Hey Sammy, sorry if it took a while to get you outta a nightmare. Cas just showed up here.”

The angel looked apologetic. “I was busy. Your mother wanted me to…”

Dean waved him off. “Not a problem, Cas.” He turned his attention back to Sam. “Anyways, after Cas helped to push back the crap in here, I asked him to peek in on you ‘cause I figured you weren’t having the most pleasant dreams.”

Sam thought back to the terrible images of Dean’s torn apart body. “No, definitely not.”

“Well, you can hang out here until morning if you want. Just don’t tell Mom that I took you to a bar, okay?”

“Deal.” Sam grinned.

It was strange. After all that time in his brother’s head, seeing Dean as an adult really wasn’t all that weird. And Dean sure seemed comfortable.

Sam joined his brother at the pool table as Dean set up a game. He grabbed a cue and watched as the older Winchester took the first turn. They played in silence for a while, with Cas sitting in the background, just observing. But after a while, Sam just had to ask a question that had been bothering him. Well, to be truthful, quite a few things had been bothering him. But he had to start somewhere.

“Hey Dean, why’d you come back here?”

Dean looked up from where he was setting up a shot and made a face. “Here? I don’t know?” He shrugged. “This is just a bar I come to sometimes in my sleep to unwind. Seemed like a good night to do so.”

Sam laughed. “No, I didn’t mean this bar. I meant, why did you leave your time and come back to now… well, to all those years ago?”

Dean looked startled for a moment, as if that hadn’t been a question he’d been expecting. Then he seemed to be debating whether he would answer the question or not. This was it; if Dean shut him out now, it would start a pattern and Sam would know that he’d never get any of the answers for the even harder questions that were still bouncing around in his head.

“’Cause the future sucked, Sam.” Dean shrugged as he sat down on the edge of the pool table. 

“Well yeah, I kinda got that from…”

“No, I don’t just mean that bad crap happened. That kind of stuff happens in this timeline too. Can’t stop it, right? But things had gotten so bad there that there was no turning back. And it seemed that every time we tried to fix things, they only got worse. Everyone I knew and cared about was dead. Mom. Dad. Bobby. Ellen and Jo. Hell, every hunter we’d ever become friends with was gone. And Cas had died several times and I knew it was only a matter of time before he stopped coming back. And you… God, Sammy… the number of times I’d lost you or had screwed things up and you’d gotten hurt.” Dean shook his head sadly. “You had been through so damned much and then… then you died again and I was dying and Cas told me I could come back here and change all of this. That I could save Mom and stop the events that made your life hell and…” Dean shrugged again. “How could I pass up an offer like that?”

“I saw some of the stuff that happened to me and you know that it wasn’t because you’d ‘screwed up’, right?” Sam asked.

“I’m your brother, Sammy. I was supposed to protect you from all of that.”

“Then I guess it’s my fault that you went to Hell?”

Dean looked appalled that Sam would even suggest that. “No way. That’s all on me.”

“Why is everything on you?”

“’Cause I’m the oldest.”

“That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, it’s true.” Dean sounded almost defensive. 

“No Dean, it’s not.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know everything that happened?”

“First off, I don’t need to, because I know you and you’re an awesome big brother that protected me no matter what. And secondly, why don’t you tell me what happened. Starting with the whole ‘demon blood in me’ thing.”

Dean shook his head. “No. That’s… that’s a thing of the past. I mean, alternate future. Whatever. But that was supposed to start when you were six months old and the demon infected you with his blood before killing Mom. But that was stopped here. You have no demon blood in you. So nothing you saw in my memories that’s related to that can happen.”

Sam felt like an invisible weight had been lifted off of him. That stuff had seriously freaked him out. And Dean had stopped it all. So, he darted forward and threw his arms around his brother. “Thanks, Dean. I’m glad you came back and changed all that. It really _did_ look like it sucked.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, at least in both timelines I always had a geeky little brother by my side.”

“And you always will.”

“Well, are we gonna finish this game, or what?”

Sam decided that the rest of his questions could wait a bit. For now it would be enough to just spend a bit of time with Dean and reflect on how lucky he truly was.


	185. A Ghost Story

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Five: A Ghost Story

It had been a quiet summer. No sign of demons or angels or anything even remotely apocalyptic. Dean had been forced by his parents to rest for weeks, not even going on random hunts. All the ones that he’d had scheduled for his family to handle (and okay, there had only been three) were handed off to other hunters by Bobby. And truthfully, Dean had appreciated the break. He’d needed time to heal and he also wanted to spend time with his family and give them some much needed downtime. Besides, they didn’t need to worry about him getting hurt again right after all the crap that had happened immediately after his graduation ceremony. 

But now, summer vacation was coming to a close and he was getting a bit restless, especially as thoughts of starting college entered his mind. And yet his parents still didn’t think that he was ready to hunt. Which was completely ridiculous because his leg had healed nicely with little scarring and the rest of his wounds were likewise gone and if anyone was concerned about his mental state, well, it wasn’t like he’d ever been that stable anyways. 

Of course that hadn’t been a winning argument. 

So, when his parents and Cas were taking off for back to back hunts for a weekend, Sam and Dean had been sent to Bobby’s place. No chances were being taken with leaving the two boys home alone.

At first Dean had sulked a bit at this turn of events. That was until Bobby had offered to take them out on a hunt… as long as both brothers swore that they’d never tell their parents about it. But the older hunter had understood how restless Dean was getting and said that he had a unique ghost hunt nearby that they could drive to and check out. So, just an hour after Cas had dropped them off at Singer Salvage, the three of them had piled into one of Bobby’s cars and drove off.

As they drove, Dean fiddled with the radio for a bit before giving up. There wasn’t anything good on and the cassette player was busted.

“So Bobby, this is a ghost thing, huh? We doing a salt and burn?”

“First we gotta figure out who we need to burn.”

Dean cast him a sideways look. “What? _You_ don’t have all the answers to this thing already?”

“Shut it, boy. Up ‘til recently I wasn’t even convinced there _was_ a hunt. Hell, there might not be. It’s just an old story. The kind of legend ya hear told but can’t find proof of.”

“So what’s the story?” Sam piped up from the backseat.

Bobby smiled. “Well,…” And the older hunter lowered his voice into the perfect ‘campfire story telling tone’. “On a lonely road out of the way of most traffic, there’s a bridge with an unfortunate past. A young family lived near this bridge and the husband was away from his wife and child fightin’ in a war. But there was this neighbor that had always held a candle for the young wife. The guy had moved away for a couple of years but he found his was back and when he discovered that the object of his obsession had gotten herself hitched and had had a child, well he became insanely jealous and determined to have her for his own. So one night, he came to her house and forced his way in. When she refused him, he savagely attacked her and threatened to kill her kid. She escaped and ran from her house with the baby, blindly crashing through the forest, seeking a hiding place from her neighbor. Just as she realized she couldn’t hear the man chasin’ her anymore, she came to the bridge and took refuge under it with the scared baby in her arms. Now, the distressed child had been whimpering in fear during her run from the house, but now that they’d stopped, the baby began to wail. The child began to cry loudly and ended the hope of the bridge bein’ safe refuge. The crazy neighbor was drawn to the baby’s cries and their position was revealed to the guy. He brutally murdered both mother and child right there under the bridge. But only the woman’s body was ever recovered. They say, if you drive down this bridge and stop half way across, turn off your engine and headlights and get out, you can hear the baby’s cries that gave its mother’s position away all those years ago. It’s also been said that if you go down underneath the bridge at night, you will never be seen again.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Interesting story. But if it’s true, the woman should be easy enough to track down.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d thought too. So I looked into it when I’d first heard of it and there was no evidence that a woman was ever found there. But dependin’ on what war this story takes place during, there might not be a record of it from back then. Or the part of her body bein’ found might not even be true.”

Dean nodded. “So, have you heard of these so-called disappearances?”

“Now _that_ I have tracked. It seems that there have been folks goin’ missing around that bridge.”

“Men or women?” Sam asked. Dean smiled. That would’ve been his next question. 

“All guys.”

Dean nodded. “If it had been girls that had been killed, I would have thought that maybe it was crazy dude’s ghost still killing chicks. But it looks like ghost mom is hanging around; probably trying to protect her kid.”

“So what are we going to do?” Sam asked.

“Well, first we’re gonna park on the bridge and see if we can hear the baby cryin’. See if there’s any truth ta this. See, there’s no pattern to the disappearances or nuthin’. Not like it could be takin’ place on an anniversary or anything. So, it could be a coincidence that people are occasionally goin’ missing around there.”

“Coincidence. Right.” Dean rolled his eyes. When was it ever that simple? “So, we get there, park and listen. What happens if we hear something?”

“We arm ourselves and go check it out. See if we can find anything to identify this girl so we can put her to rest.”

Dean nodded. Made sense.

With all the info on the hunt in mind, he turned to stare out the dark window. He knew that Bobby had pulled out this job just for him and he really appreciated it. Sure it might turn out to be nothing or at the very most a quick info gather and then salt and burn, but it was a hunt. And Dean was a hunter. He was less than two weeks away from starting college and working towards an actual career, but he knew that no matter what he did with his life he’d always have a job that was part of him. And he thought that it was that that scared his parents so much. Because if he told them tomorrow that it was alright for all of them to walk away from this all, he firmly believed that not only would they do it, but that they’d be extremely relieved. But Dean himself couldn’t. He _needed_ to hunt. He needed to be saving people and killing evil creatures and doing all the crap that he’d been raised to do. Even if it always seemed to land him in the crappiest of positions. But his parents didn’t understand that. He thought that perhaps Sam did after seeing all he saw in Dean’s head. As for Bobby, if the older hunter didn’t understand, he sure as hell tried to cater to Dean’s weird-ass wishes anyway.

The car pulled to a stop. They were there. Right in the middle of the bridge. Bobby had cut the engine and turned the lights off. The windows were rolled down and so they just sat there waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Until finally they heard the wailing.

But it wasn’t what any of them had been expecting. The wailing wasn’t that of a baby but the sounds of a woman crying inconsolably. She cried and sobbed; the pitch so high that it carried on the summer breeze and seemed to echo from all around them. Dean exchanged a look with Bobby and then they nodded.

“Sam, stay in the car. We’re gonna go check this out.”

“But I can…”

“I know you can. And you’re our backup if we don’t come back right away or if we call for help, okay?”

Sam grudgingly nodded. “Okay.”

Dean and Bobby got out and both armed themselves with shotguns and salt rounds. Then they followed the sounds of the unearthly wailing and headed down the steep embankment that led under the rather old looking bridge. The hunters had to turn sideways at one point and even then, Dean ended up sliding a few feet down the loose dirt and rocks. 

At the bottom, a narrow and very shallow stream trickled past. Dean wondered if it was always this pathetic or if it had once been a respectable body of water. Judging by the size of the bridge, either the stream had dried up quite a bit or the builders of the bridge were compensating for something.

As the two hunters got close to the dark underpass of the bridge, the wailing ceased. It was so abrupt that Dean almost jumped at the sudden silence. He motioned to Bobby to move away from him. There was no sense in allowing the ghost chick to be able to take them both out at once if she decided to get violent.

Nothing happened at all while they approached, but the moment that Dean stepped under the bridge, he felt the temperature drop from a warm summer day to what felt like the beginning of winter. Damn, this spirit was strong. Or pissed. Or most likely both.

“Hey, calm down. We’re not here to hurt you or your kid. We just want to help.”

Dean was suddenly airborne momentarily, until his body crashed into the side of the stone bridge. Luckily, the impact wasn’t too terrible and he was pretty sure that there was no damage done but for a few bruises.

“Dean!”

“I’m alright, Bobby.” Dean opened his eyes (he’d closed them during the impact) and saw a woman standing over him. She wasn’t all that much older than him, maybe only twenty years old at the very most. Her dark hair flowed around her shoulders in messy tangles and her large eyes were filled with pain, despair, and rage. She was dressed in an older style nightgown that hung to her bare feet. As Dean stared up at her, the woman flickered out, then back in, to existence. 

“Leave my baby alone!” She shrieked at him.

“I’m not here to…” He got no further as rocks started to swirl around her and then fly at him. 

Dean rolled out of the way. A couple hit his back and he winced. The young hunter spotted his shotgun where he’d dropped it when he’d been flung into the side of the bridge. He went to crawl towards it when a blast rang out. Dean heard the rocks and debris drop to the ground. He turned to see the ghost gone and Bobby standing there holding his weapon.

“Took you long enough.”

“Couldn’t get a clear shot. And a thank you wouldn’t kill ya, boy”

“It might.”

“Ya get anything that might help identify her.”

“Not really. A physical description. But that’s all we’re gonna get ‘cause she’s not the chatty type.”

Bobby nodded. “Then let’s get back to the car. Hopefully we got enough to figure out who she is so we can put her to rest.”

Dean snatched up his gun and went to join up with Bobby when the spirit reappeared right behind the older hunter. With a mournful wail, she pushed the man without even touching him. Bobby was flung forwards and right into Dean. They both ended up sprawled on the ground. 

Dean tried to wriggle out from under his friend to get a shot at the ghost, but then his weapon was ripped from his grasp at the same time as Bobby’s shotgun went flying up into the air. Both guns were turned back to face them as the woman faced them with a look of pure hatred on her face.


	186. A Little Backup

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Six: A Little Backup 

The first thing that Sam did as soon as his brother and Bobby were out of sight was to get out of the car and go to the trunk to retrieve a shotgun and some salt rounds. He wasn’t planning on following them down if he didn’t have to, but if they didn’t come back right away or if they called for help, the boy wanted to be ready to rush to their aid. Each moment would then become precious and he didn’t want to waste a single one fumbling to get ready. 

Once he was armed, Sam climbed back into the backseat, but he didn’t shut the door. He just sat there at the ready and listened. And tried to keep track of the time that the two hunters were gone. 

As he sat, Sam thought about this hunt and how much it meant to Dean. He himself wasn’t sure if it was such a great idea for his big brother to be hunting just yet, but he knew that the older boy needed to be out doing this. Dean was a hunter. He’d been a hunter for so many years that there was no separating it from Dean. Not without taking away something important to Sam’s brother. And Sam got that. He really did. But he wanted to protect Dean from all of this stuff too. Because Dean might not really be limping anymore, and his back didn’t bother him, and he’d put most of the weight he’d lost back on again, but there was still something in his eyes. Something haunted. And some days it would just take Dean over and Sam would watch his big brother stare out into space and he’d tremble a bit and the younger boy wondered if Dean was thinking about what he’d gone through with Alastair or if he was being overtaken by memories from the previous timeline. Either way, Sam would try to get Dean to talk about it and if he didn’t want to, the smaller boy would just try to distract him from his dark thoughts. So maybe a hunt would be a great distraction or maybe it would lead to a terrible mental break. Sam prayed that it was the former. 

He checked his watch. Not enough time had passed to justify getting out and going to check on Dean and Bobby. Which was good. Except that he _really_ wanted an excuse to get out and check on them. 

Then he jumped when he heard the sound of a shotgun. But that didn’t mean anything had gone wrong. It just meant that they’d seen the ghost. They might still be alright. Sam would give them a few more minutes.

But then he heard two shotguns go off simultaneously, followed by Dean crying out in pain and Sam was moving before he even realized that he’d left the car. He was running towards where he’d seen the two hunters head off to as fast as his legs could carry him. Which turned out to be a mistake when he reached the steep embankment that led down to the small stream that ran under the bridge. Because the path down was quite a drop and the dirt and rocks were very loose. Sam lost his footing right away and slid, slipped, and skidded most of the way down. He never managed to regain his balance and right before he made it to the bottom, the boy tumbled to the ground and somersaulted head over heels a couple of times before coming to a stop. 

Sam groaned as he straightened his body out. Well, at least nothing seemed broke. He sat up and saw that he was facing the underside of the bridge. And there was Dean, kneeling on the ground, clutching his ribs and wincing in pain. Bobby was lying behind him and looked like he was just starting to stir. Sam didn’t see their weapons anywhere.

And speaking of weapons… Sam looked around and saw his shotgun lying in the shallow stream. Oh, just great. Some back up he was. 

But weapon or no weapon, Sam needed to help his brother. So, he got to his feet and started towards the older boy. Dean looked up and their eyes met. Sam watched as his big brother shook his head, fear clouding his expression and then the teen was blocked from his view as a woman suddenly materialized in between them. 

Sam looked around for something, _anything_ , that he could use to get rid of the spirit. But it wasn’t like containers of salt or stuff made of iron would just be left lying around. He cursed himself for not thinking ahead. He should’ve grabbed something besides the shotgun. 

The boy started forward, hoping to spot Dean or Bobby’s weapon lying somewhere within reach.

“Sammy, go! Get out of here!”

But Sam couldn’t. There was no way that he’d leave Dean behind.

Then, suddenly, the ghost turned and stared right at him. She was younger than Sam had expected and might have been pretty if her face wasn’t filled with sadness and anger. He took an involuntary step back in surprise and fear. The boy wondered if he’d be able to distract her long enough for Dean to get to a shotgun.

But then the look on the spirit’s face morphed into one of awe and her eyes filled with tears. She stepped forward and held out her arms to Sam.

“James?” She asked. 

Sam gave her a confused look. _What the hell?_ “Uh…”

“Oh baby, you’re alright! I thought he killed you. But you’ve come back to me.” The woman exclaimed, smiling at him, love shining in her eyes. Oh… she thought he was her dead son.

Sam glanced past her to Dean. His brother nodded at him and made a gesture that Sam interpreted to mean that he was to play along. 

“Yeah, Mom. I’m alright.” What the ghost saw in him that made her think of her dead baby, Sam wasn’t sure. Nor did he know why she didn’t realize that if her child had actually survived he’d not be a small boy in this day and age. But hey, this was working to their advantage. 

“But how?”

“You kept me safe.” Sam lied. 

“I thought… Oh, I’m so glad he didn’t hurt you.”

From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean retrieve his gun and start to move to get a good shot. 

“He couldn’t.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Not with you there.”

“I’ve missed you so much, James.”

“I missed you too, Mom.” Sam felt bad lying to the ghost woman. Well, he did until he saw the look of peace on her face and the slight glow that had started emanating from within her. Was it… was she ready to move on now?

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you while you were growing up.”

“You gave your life so that I could live _to_ grow up.” Okay, so that was a lie, but the woman _had_ died protecting her child. And Sam needed to say what she needed to hear. 

The spirit closed the distance between them and reached her hand out. Sam saw Dean level his shotgun at her and he caught his brother’s eye and shook his head slightly. Shooting her now would disperse her and allow them to escape, but it would ruin any chance she had to pass on peacefully.

“You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah. I have people looking out for me. You can go now.”

“But…” She suddenly seemed sad.

“I don’t want you to stay trapped here, Mom. You’ll be in pain and be so sad. That’ll make me sad.”

“Oh James,” She stroked his cheek and her hand wasn’t as cold as he’d expected it to be. “I’ll see you again one day. I love you.”

“You too.”

She smiled again and the glow increased until Sam had to close his eyes. Even with his lids closed, he could tell when the glow had died down. He reopened his eyes to find the spirit of the young woman gone. Hopefully she was in Heaven, reunited with her real son. Sam prayed that she understood the reason why he’d tricked her.

“Way to go, Sammy! You’re a regular ghost whisperer, huh?” Dean called.

Sam made a face at him. “What?”

His brother shrugged. “You’ll catch the reference one day, and it’ll be hilarious.”

“Good thinking, boy.” Bobby praised.

“Wasn’t really my original plan.” Sam admitted.

“Well, a good hunter plays the hand their dealt.” Dean confirmed. 

Sam beamed at the compliments. “I’m just glad that it all worked out. What happened?” He asked, eying the way that his big brother was still holding onto his ribs.

“Freakin’ ghost chick threw me around and then shot me with rock salt.”

“Well, ya didn’t hafta use yerself as a human shield.” Bobby scolded.

“Wasn’t sure your old bones could take being shot.” Dean replied with a smirk. “Anyways, after I was shot, I managed to throw a handful of salt at her and she disappeared for a bit. Just long enough for you to show up.”

“Are you okay?” Sam questioned. “Do you need to get checked out?”

“I’ll be alright.” Dean nodded. “And no. No getting checked out. Dad and Mom _cannot_ find out about this, remember?” 

“So how are you going to explain your bruised ribs?”

“Same way that you’re going to explain that scratch on your arm.” Dean pointed.

Sam looked down and sure enough there was a long, but not very deep, scratch running the length of his forearm. He must’ve gotten it when he’d tumbled down the embankment. 

“Uh, and what exactly _are_ we going to tell them?”

Dean took his arm and looked at the wound. The older boy dropped the limb, obviously content that it wasn’t bad. “We got carried away wrestling out back in Bobby’s scrapyard and got a bit banged up. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Guess it’ll work. So long as they don’t check you over and see the shape of your bruises.”

Dean made a dismissive noise. “We’ll be fine.”

“If not, yer parents’ll have my ass.” Bobby muttered.

They all started back up towards the car. It was a tough climb and he saw Dean struggling a bit, one hand wrapped around his middle, the other using his shotgun as a crutch to help him with the hike. 

When they reached the car, they tossed their weapons in the trunk and climbed in. Sam heard Dean let out a barely audible groan. The smaller boy slid over to sit behind Bobby so that he could see his brother’s face. Dean had a faraway look in his eyes and Sam wondered what he was thinking about. Was he pleased that the job had been taken care of and the spirit of the young mother was finally at rest? Was he blaming himself for not being able to complete the job himself? Was he concerned that their parents were going to discover what they’d done and get upset? Was the pain of being injured reminding him of his weeks-long torture at Alastair’s hands? Sam really had no clue. And he wasn’t going to ask in front of Bobby.

“You know, Dean,” Bobby spoke up. “A couple years back that ghost might’ve identified _you_ as her kid. Shame you had ta go and grow up.”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I doubt she’d think that her kid would be trying to shoot her ass full of rock salt. Which brings up a good point… what the hell were you thinking, Sammy? Coming after us unarmed?”

“I wasn’t!” He protested. “I did have a shotgun. But I dropped it in the stream when I fell. I didn’t bother fishing it out to confront her because it wouldn’t be any good wet.”

“And where is it now?”

Sam remained silent as embarrassment set in.

Dean chuckled. “Turn the car around, Bobby. Our ‘expert hunter’ forgot something.”

“Yeah, well, at least I didn’t forget to save your lives.” Sam mumbled as both of the older hunters laughed good naturedly in the front seat and the car did a u-turn back towards the direction they’d just come from.


	187. Situations

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Seven: Situations 

Dean parked the Impala, opened the drivers’ side door, got out, and looked around. This was it. Whether he was ready or not, this was his first day at the University of Kansas. He stood frozen to the spot for a moment. There were other students walking past him, occasionally glancing his way, but Dean didn’t care that he was taking up a perfectly good parking spot by not moving. Or that he was clearly the youngest student there (although he didn’t stand out half as much as his first day in high school, thank God). Nothing really mattered at that moment except that he was about to start college. He, Dean Winchester, was going on to ‘higher education’. Yeah, it must be some kind of cosmic joke. 

“Is this parking space taken?”

Dean spun to see Emily standing a couple of feet away, smirking at him.

“Hey, what’re you doing here? Your classes don’t start until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but yours start today. Figured I should be here for support.”

Dean made a face. “Well, if you enjoy wasting your time...”

Emily punched his shoulder. “It’s not a waste if it gets you to move out of this parking lot and gets you to class on time.”

“I thought that college kids didn’t care about stupid crap like getting to class on time.”

“College kids here on scholarship do.”

“Damn.”

She looped her arm through his and they set off towards the correct building. And damn but college campuses were large and he’d parked kind of far away. Dean was practically dragging his feet even though he really had no intentions of being late to class. He just felt like he was being weighed down by everything on his mind. So, of course, his friend noticed.

“What’s going on there in Dean World?”

“Awesome crap.”

“Uh huh? So awesome that you’re practically comatose with all of its awesomeness?” 

“Couldn’t’ve said it better myself.”

“So, you planning on dropping the BS line and letting me in _before_ we get to your class? Or you gonna stew in this all day long?”

Dean sighed. “Just… didn’t expect to be here.”

Emily scrunched up her face. “Why not? You’re certainly smart enough.”

“Well, jury’s out about that. But it has nothing to do with intelligence. It’s just… my life’s path leads to darker places.”

“Ah… so the stuff you saw or whatever about your future _didn’t_ include college.”

Dean nodded. “Yep. Sammy, sure. I can see him going great places. But me… well, let’s just say that I never thought I’d be here.”

“Well, you are. So be proud of it and enjoy it, Dean.”

“And when it all falls apart around me?”

“Then you’ll kick the ass of whatever is trying to tear this all apart for you and you’ll be twice as awesome.”

Dean grinned. “You know what? You’re right.”

“Of course I am. And you would’ve known all that without me saying a word if you weren’t letting things that shouldn’t bother you bother you. For someone so ‘awesome’, you have a really poor sense of self-worth.”

“It comes from hanging around demons.” Dean shrugged.

“And your excuse from before that was…”

“Shut up.”

Emily laughed. “Well, we’re here. Have a great first day.”

Dean leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for the pep talk. See you later.”

With a wave, he turned and entered the building. Dean ran up the stairs and to his classroom and settled down at a desk. Okay, it was weird. He was definitely the youngest student there, but the others ranged from around eighteen to adults. Like there was a guy there that was older than Dean’s actual age. 

When the teacher (professor… they liked to be called professors. Or doctors if they were especially proud of their doctorates) entered, the hunter did his absolute best to concentrate on the class (which was an hour and a half long… what the hell was that all about) and not on the thoughts running through his head. But as always, the thoughts in his head were persistent.

Thanks to Emily, he could shelve most of his worries about being in college and whether or not it was going to blow up in his face. At least for the moment. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that everything at home was still so damned tense. At least it always seemed to be for him. Maybe it was just because he alone knew everything that had happened over the summer. No one else knew the hell that he’d gone through at Alastair’s hands. Sure, they’d all tried to get him to talk about it, but he’d politely (or sometimes not so much) declined. And then there was all the stuff that had happened in his head. And the fact that Sam had seen some of it. And yeah, he’d talked to Sam about some of the topics that his brother would bring up. After all, he’d promised that he would and he didn’t want Sam to be left wondering about the crap he’d witnessed in there. But he himself never broached the subject or offered extra information. Dean knew he’d have to someday. He and Sam _were_ in this together to some extent. But there were some things that he just couldn’t bring himself to talk about. Oh, and there was the small fact that neither he or Sam had told their parents yet that Sam had actually been in Dean’s head. Which was not good because Dean wasn’t delusional enough to believe that he could keep _that_ a secret forever. 

Dean looked up and copied down all the information that was written on the white board. He’d make sense of it all later. Right now his head just wasn’t into it. And he was very relieved when his class was over. He had a couple of hours before his next class and that was his only other one for the day. Maybe he’d be able to handle this college thing after all.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam placed the plastic cereal box prize back on Dean’s dresser with a smile. He now understood why his big brother had kept them all. Actually, he really understood a lot of things about the older boy that he’d kind of always wondered about. Like, why the idea of going off to college had always seemed like such a foreign concept to Dean even though it was obvious that Sam’s brother was very intelligent. But Dean, the Dean that had grown up in motel rooms without anyone to raise and support him, well, he never had that chance. And he was never told that he was intelligent. And it was really sad that even with all the support and praise that he was receiving this time around, everything from back then was still influencing him. Still controlling his opinion of himself.

Sam sighed and walked over to look out the window. Dean should be coming home from his first day at KU in a little over an hour. On Mondays, his second class let out after Sam got home from school. Tuesdays, Dean only had an evening class. Wednesdays, the teen would be at college from eight in the morning until seven pm. Thursdays were like Mondays and he had Fridays and weekends off. But Sam expected that Dean would be busy with class work and hunting then. 

As the boy was staring out the window, he saw something… no, someone… moving near the bushes on the outside of their property. He tensed and tried to get a good look at the person. It was no use.

He contemplated calling his dad, but thought better of it. His father was in work and he didn’t want to disturb him. Besides, if it was something supernatural, Sam was safe but anyone past the fence wouldn’t be and he didn’t want to put his dad in danger. He couldn’t contact his mom or Cas because they’d left that morning to help the Harvelles out with something urgent. There was no way that they’d still be at the Roadhouse by now. If this turned out to be a real emergency, he’d call on the cell phone (if they had reception wherever they were) but he didn’t want to put Bill and Ellen at risk by taking their backup away if this turned out to be their neighbor wandering around in his underwear, drunk… again. 

So, Sam pulled the old duffle bag out from under Dean’s bed and unzipped it. It was strange. He wasn’t _that_ Sam, yet after being in his brother’s memories and living through some of them, this bag felt familiar and comforting to him. The boy took out the Colt from where Dean had left it and a small vial of holy water. He shoved the bottle in his pocket and the gun in his waist band. Then Sam took a deep breath and left his brother’s room.

Sam ran down the stairs and let himself out the door. Then he carefully approached the spot where he’d seen the figure moving from the window upstairs. He didn’t see anyone. 

Careful not to step outside the protected area, Sam examined every space of the bushes, but saw nothing. _Well, that had been anticlimactic._ The boy shrugged and went to walk back inside.

“Samuel.”

Sam stopped short. His heart began to race. He knew that voice. Sort of. Because he knew it well enough to know how very wrong it was right now. Reluctantly, and so very slowly, Sam turned to face the voice.

“Cas?”

And it was… not. Not Really. Because Cas was not supposed to be around twenty years old and dressed in nice jeans and a sweater. And Cas was not supposed to be standing on the outside of their protection border, not allowed in. And Cas certainly was not supposed to be staring at him like he was some sort of interesting specimen and not a close family member and friend. 

But not-Cas nodded once. “Yes. I am Castiel. Angel of the Lord.”

“Prove it.” Sam insisted. Because, okay, the body was the same, only younger but that didn’t mean that the angel inside was the same. 

The angel was taken aback. “You need proof that I am an angel? You have encountered…”

“No. I believe that you’re an angel. I mean, prove that you’re Castiel.”

Now the angel looked confused. “What does it matter which angel I am.”

It did. Because Cas could be trusted but other angels… but wait. This might, just might, be Cas. But it wasn’t _their_ Cas. It was Castiel from this time, not Dean’s time. So this Castiel could be allied with any side. He could have been sent here for any reason, even to kill the Winchesters once and for all. And wouldn’t that be ironic. Their family slaughtered by Castiel. God… that would be sick.

Sam had pulled out his cell phone before he even realized what he was doing. He quickly dialed a number and waited for the call to be picked up. 

“Hello? Sam, is everything alright?”

“Anderson? Can you… can you get here? Like, right now? I need your help with an angel situation.”


	188. Which Side Are You On?

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Eight: Which Side Are You On?

Closing his eyes against the approaching headache, Officer Scott Anderson thanked God that his shift was over. Sure, it wasn’t overly strenuous being on patrol at the speed traps, but dealing with people that had been going a good twenty miles over the speed limit, yet insisted that they hadn’t been going _that_ fast and that he was being unfair giving them a ticket was aggravating. But he was on that duty for a while until he was completely healed up. 

The Winchesters had referred him to a doctor that they’d taken Dean to for years. The guy apparently had had his and his family’s lives saved by a hunter a long time ago and now would help out by treating hunters and covering for any suspect injuries that they might end up with. Scott’s shoulder wound was now recorded as an older wound that had happened back in the hospital in New Mexico (which really was only going to hold up if no one saw the damned thing until it had healed up and faded, but there was no other convenient lie that made more sense) and his medical leave and then light duty was extended with the reasons that his abdominal wound from early in the summer had actually caused more damage than the ER doctors had originally thought. So, until his arm was working at least better than it was now, he was on patrol looking for traffic violations and lying to his co-workers about why. If they noticed that his right arm was a bit stiff or was causing him pain, they must’ve just brushed it off as his old injury acting up again. After all, he’d worn short sleeves on the job before and they’d all seen his scar. Scott was just incredibly thankful that if he _had_ to receive yet another injury it was at least to the same arm. Because he wouldn’t be able to do his job if he couldn’t use either limb. 

Pulling his car back onto the road, Scott started driving towards the station. He’d just have to turn in some paperwork, punch out, then he could head home. Early shifts weren’t so great when it was time to get up in the morning, but they were nice when he didn’t have to work until dinner time. Or later.

He was stopped at a red light when his cell phone started to ring. Scott pulled it out and glanced down to see who was calling. He recognized the number immediately. Damn. This was probably not good. So much for the quiet that had seemed to settle in since early July.

“Hello? Sam, is everything alright?” He kept his voice steady and reassuring.

“Anderson?” The boy’s voice was anything but steady. “Can you… can you get here? Like, right now? I need your help with an angel situation.”

Yep, the quiet was definitely broken now. “Who’s there with you? Your parents? Dean?”

“No one. Just me.”

Okay, that wasn’t good at all. “And what’s this ‘situation’?”

“Uh, well… I’m outside the house and there’s an angel here. He’s outside the fence. He’s not doing anything yet, just… staring at me.”

“Has he said anything?”

“He claims to be Castiel.”

“Uh… Castiel? Wouldn’t you know if it was Cas? Or do you suspect that another angel is in his body?” Was that even possible?

“Well, he’s Castiel but not _Dean’s_ Cas. You know?”

Scott could tell that Sam was trying to say things without spelling them out since the angel was right there. So he thought about the boy’s words. Castiel but not Dean’s Cas. Well, the Cas that hung out with the Winchesters had come back in time with Dean… so that made him Dean’s Cas. And that also meant that there would be a Cas from this time because the angel brought Dean back but it seemed that he hadn’t gone into his younger body like Dean had. Because angels didn’t have physical forms as such to do that with. Or maybe he just didn’t need to follow those same time travel rules that Dean had to. Scott knew very little about their situation. But what he _did_ know now was that Sam was alone with what might be a different Castiel or a completely different angel claiming to be Castiel for some reason. If it was option #2, the angel was lying and thus the situation was bad. If it was option #1, well, this Castiel still might not be trustworthy. So Sam might still be in trouble.

He had his foot pressed hard on the accelerator and was speeding towards the Winchesters’ home before he’d even finished thinking over the problem. 

“Sam, stay on the line, okay? I’m just a few minutes away. Hang on.”

“Thanks. I’m still within the safe area and all, but…”

“Don’t take any chances.” Scott warned. 

“I won’t.”

Scott picked up his radio. He needed to call in. “This is Officer Anderson.”

Traci Porter’s voice came back over to him. “Anderson, coming back in?”

“Uh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I just finished up, but I got a call and there’s a bit of a family emergency. Can you punch me out and tell the boss man I’ll hand my paperwork in tomorrow?”

She let out a loud, fake sigh. “All that extra work? Boy, Anderson, you really know how to take advantage of a girl.” She laughed. “No problem. I’ll take care of your timecard right now and pass on your message. But you’ll owe me a coffee tomorrow morning when you come in to work.”

“It’s a deal. Thank you.”

After switching off the radio (and thanking God that Traci was on dispatch today), Scott turned his attention back to Sam. “Everything still okay?”

“He’s staring at me.”

“Okay… like in a bad way?”

“Uncomfortable. I don’t think he blinks.”

Scott couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, let me know if he does blink. Or move. Or if he says anything.”

“He hasn’t done anything at all since I called you. I don’t know why.”

A voice could be heard faintly in the background. “You are calling for backup. I thought it wise not to upset you. Although I do not believe I have done anything thus far that should have provoked a reaction from you.”

“You’re an angel!” Sam informed the Castiel-ish voice. “Your kind helped to kidnap and torture my brother. And now you’re lurking around my home. I think I have a perfectly good reason to distrust you.” There was a pause. “Uh, Anderson… I think he’s a little pissed at me.”

“Hang on. I’m turning onto your street now.”

The cop pulled his car up in front of the house, hung up the phone, and was opening his door as he looked around the area. Scott wasn’t that worried about the neighbors getting concerned. He’d visited the family before, so everyone on the street was probably used to seeing a police car parked out front. Of course, if anyone saw him jumping out of the car to go confront the guy standing right near the Winchesters’ gate, they might have some questions.

As Scott quickly closed the distance between himself and the angel, he was startled to see that yes, it was Castiel, but he looked so young. And his essence, or whatever it was that the cop could sense, felt so different. There were similarities. Enough to assure him that the angel inside the body was definitely Castiel, but it was not the same Castiel that he’d come to know. 

“Anderson!” Sam called to him in relief. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did the right thing.” Scott assured him. The boy might be safe in his yard (might not if the angel really wanted to harm him, because God knew that they could get creative if they wanted to) but the young man assumed that the boy was also concerned that his brother was going to be coming home soon and would be in danger. Scott, on the other, was probably the safest person to be around unknown angels and he’d also hopefully be able to help figure out this Castiel’s intentions.

Castiel tilted his head to the side (a familiar gesture) and looked at Scott as if he was something interesting to study (not as familiar). “You are not one of the Winchesters.”

“Not unless my mom has a lot of explaining to do.” 

“You doubt your mother’s loyalty to your father?”

“No. It was a joke.” There was a pause. “Yeah… never mind. No, I’m not a Winchester. Just a friend of theirs.”

“The Winchesters were not supposed to have friends outside of a couple of acquaintances from the hunting community.”

“Yet here I am.”

“I can see that.” Castiel did not seem impressed. “Yet another change.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Scott asked, feeling a bit on guard. “Orders to try and put things ‘back on track’? Because, I’m not sure if you’ve been paying attention or not, but all those plans seem to fail miserably.”

“We’ve got a new path now.” Sam spoke up. “You guys better just get used to it.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “It is not your place to tell me what to get used to.”

“And it’s not your place to come here and tell anyone what life they should be living.” Scott pointed out. 

The angel turned back to him. Scott felt relieved. If Castiel decided to harm someone, Scott would much rather be the target. “It is not me that has decided the Winchesters’ fate.”

“Well, obviously, it’s not fate. Because it hasn’t happened.”

“No. It has not.” At this, Castiel sounded confused.

Scott wasn’t sure what was going on with the angel. He’d gotten fired up a bit when challenged, but overall he didn’t seem hostile. Yet he wasn’t full of care for the family like Cas was. He seemed curious more than anything.

“Why are you here?”

“My job, as it was told to me, is to rescue the Righteous Man from Hell.”

Scott blinked. Okay…

“Well, Dean’s not in Hell.” Sam shot back.

“I am aware of that.” Castiel shot him a look that plainly said that the angel was _not_ an idiot. “He is not supposed to fulfill his role for at least another decade or more. Whenever events come together. But now those events will not happen.”

“That’s a good thing.” Scott informed him. “Dean doesn’t deserve to be in Hell.”

“No, he does not.”

“But you’re okay with him going there? Just because he has a role to play?”

“Do you even know what that role is?” Sam spoke up.

“I cannot speak of it to you.”

“I already know about the seals.” The boy commented matter-of-factly.

The angel seemed startled. “Then you know that the demons wish for your brother to break the first one in Hell.”

Sam nodded. “I don’t know what it is, but I know it has something to do with him being there. And I also know that the angels want it just as much as the demons. Well, some of the angels do.”

“Which side are you on?” Scott asked.

Castiel bristled. “I am on no one’s side. I follow my orders and…”

“Well, if you’re following orders, you’re on a side. So, who told you about rescuing Dean from Hell? Raphael?”

“You know nothing about me or what is going on in Heaven. Do not pretend to understand.”

“I understand perfectly. Better than you even. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing, do you? You’re filled with confusion and doubt and your orders don’t make sense to you at all because you’re not even certain that your big job will even come up in the future.”

“And why should it?” Sam piped in. “Dean never did anything to deserve to go to Hell. He’s a good guy. And your kind would see him tortured just to get your way.”

“Your kind already has.” Scott continued. “Zachariah wasn’t behind the plan to work with Alastair. Raphael was. And so many of your brothers and sisters helped to torture a sixteen year old boy.”

“That was…”

“Not just a one time thing, Castiel, and you know it. That’s why you’re here. Isn’t it? Because it all started here. At this house, with one child. So you had to come here and see it for yourself. See him for yourself. But the big question is what you’re going to do next. Because if you don’t like what you see, if you even think of harming this family…”

Castiel tilted his head again, but this time it was a threatening looking gesture, not a curious one. “You will do nothing to stop me. Your gun cannot harm me. Besides, this family has thrown Heaven into chaos and put everything in jeopardy. They are not as innocent as you would paint them.”

“You guys started it.” Sam muttered. 

“And rest assured that we can easily end it if need be.”

“You won’t get that chance.” Scott felt the power building from the angel, but didn’t react. He wouldn’t drain Castiel of his grace unless the angel attacked any of the Winchesters.

“I don’t know why the boy called you, but you are not needed here.” The angel reached out and touched Scott’s forehead. Nothing happened. Castiel looked confused.

Scott sighed. “Yeah, that’s not going to work. So why don’t you just…” 

He was cut off by the sound of Dean’s Impala pulling up behind his squad car. Scott ran a hand through his hair anxiously and shifted to make certain that he’d be in between the angel and the teen. He heard a car door open and close.

“What the… oh crap. First graduation and now my first day of college? Do you feather-asses plan these things out just to ruin my school stuff?”


	189. Castiel

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Nine: Castiel 

His second class had actually gone better than his first (even if it _had_ been two hours long) and Dean had blasted his music in the car and been in a good mood the entire drive home. And that mood had only seemed to improve… that was until he pulled up at his home. The first thing he noticed was that Anderson’s police car was there. Not necessarily a bad thing since the dude would sometimes just drop by to visit. But still, a cop being here when Sam had been left alone didn’t sit right with Dean. Especially, as he looked out and saw that Anderson was standing on the sidewalk, still in his uniform, and Sam was in the yard looking nervous. And there was someone standing close to the policeman. Like really close. And it didn’t take a college education to figure out that the mystery guy had to be an angel. Sam must’ve called Anderson for help. And if the angel had threatened or harmed Dean’s brother at all, the hunter would end its life right there. 

So he got out of his car and started towards the group. He smiled a bit as he saw Anderson shift to keep himself in between the angel and Dean. It was great to have a friend that actually could stand up to angels and was willing to put himself in harms way for their family… especially when Sam was within reach of the winged freaks. 

And speaking of those freaks…

He got closer and opened his mouth to make a snide comment when he recognized the angel. Sort of. “What the… oh crap.” Nope, not gonna say anything to give away _his_ Cas and their past or anything like that. No way. He had to keep going with the conversation like this was just any other angel. “First graduation and now my first day of college? Do you feather-asses plan these things out just to ruin my school stuff?”

Castiel tried to move around Anderson but the cop still blocked him. Yet Dean got a better look at the angel. Wow, he looked young. Just a handful of years older than Dean himself. And the clothes were just… un-Cas-like. As was his expression. Well, no. that wasn’t true. His expression reminded Dean very much of the Castiel that Dean had first met. And _that_ Castiel had been a bit of a dick.

“Dean.”

“Yep, that’s me. But most of the time I request that you guys make an appointment with my secretary if you really want to see me.”

Castiel cocked his head. “You have no secretary.”

“And you have no concept of sarcasm.” 

The angel seemed upset. Oh well. “I came to you for important purposes. You cannot begin to comprehend…”

“Yeah, yeah… stupid human versus all-knowing angel. I got it.” Dean rolled his eyes. Then he turned to Sam. “You alright, Sammy?”

“Yeah. I never left the yard. Called Anderson as soon as I saw _him_.” The boy pointed at Castiel.

Dean nodded. “Good.” Then he addressed the cop. “You alright?” Not that Castiel could harm him without pulling a weapon and there were no visible wounds. But still. 

“Yeah.”

“Also good. Thanks for coming.”

“Not a problem.”

“So, what’s your take on our visitor?” After learning that Anderson had been right about Michael all along, Dean realized that maybe he should trust the officer when it came to angel crap.

“He’s conflicted and a bit aggravated. But not openly hostile. Also not friendly, though.”

Dean nodded. They could work with that. Hopefully. “Well, if he’s not gonna hurt anyone, you don’t have to be a shield you know.”

Anderson shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Besides, he did try to do _something_ to me a moment ago. I don’t think that he wanted to kill me, not enough focused power for that, but it was an attack of some sort.”

Dean thought back to his first meeting with his Cas and how he’d knocked Bobby out. “Well, if you annoyed him, he might’ve been trying to put you to sleep.”

“That was all I was attempting to do. He is not relevant to any of this.” Anderson looked amused by Castiel’s assessment of him. “But it did not work on him. What is he?”

“ _He_ is still here.” Anderson reminded the angel. “Relevant or not.”

“He’s… unique.” Dean responded. There was no was in hell that he was going to explain Anderson to this Castiel. Especially with the look that the angel was now giving to the cop. Yep, definitely time to distract him. “So, what brings your uptight ass down to my lovely home?”

“You.”

“Well, I figured that much out. But why? ‘Cause if you’re here to kill me or something, you’ll have to take a number. And no, that’s _not_ to be taken literally.”

Castiel took a step forward. Anderson stood to the side so that Dean could face the angel, but stayed close. “If I wished you harm, I would come down with my whole battalion and there would not be a thing that you could do to stop me.”

“Really? ‘Cause, you know, I’ve stopped quite a few assholes in my time.” It was funny; he remembered being a bit intimidated by Castiel when they’d first met and the angel would make threats such as sending him back to Hell. And he knew that Castiel could hurt him if he really wanted to. But Dean had faced down so many things that this younger version of his friend just didn’t seem all that threatening to him. Especially while he had a friend with him that could take out an angel with a thought. 

“You should watch your language.” Castiel seemed pissed.

“Yeah, I know; you’re an angel of the Lord and demand respect. But see, I don’t give respect to anyone. You gotta earn it. And _you_ haven’t. These two here;” He gestured at Sam and Anderson. “They have. And you made my brother uncomfortable and attacked my friend. So you and me? Not off to a good start.”

“I am not trying to impress you.”

“Too damn bad. ‘Cause that’s the only way you’re gonna get anywhere. But maybe we can start again with why you’re here?”

“You have set Heaven on a path that was not meant to be. All is in upheaval. I need to know why to know what needs to be done.”

Dean nodded. “So you don’t know what side to pick.”

Castiel looked startled. “What do you know about any of that?”

“Michael’s got his side and Raphael’s got his and you’re stuck in the middle, huh?”

“I was told that my purpose was to rescue the Righteous Man from Hell.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully that job has been taken off the posting board.” Dean commented. “And who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. But when you were older, it was to be your destiny and mine was to lead my brothers and sisters into Hell to pull you out. Even if I might perish in the attempt. But everything has been changed now. And some back home talk of extreme measures to bring about the apocalypse, and they say we must as it is our Father’s will. And others have abandoned our mission. And it is all because of _you_.”

“And people said that I’d never amount to anything.” Dean quipped. 

“This is _not_ a matter to joke about.” Castiel’s face darkened and Dean caught a glimpse of Anderson tensing out of the corner of his eye. 

But Dean refused to back down. “No, you know what isn’t a matter to joke about? The fact that your buddies up in Heaven are actually working with demons to bring about the end of the world and you can’t decide if that’s a good side to be on. Really, Castiel? Is that really so hard to figure out?”

“It was discovered that Zachariah was…”

“Save the BS. Zack was taking his orders from Raphael. You really think that Porky had enough guts or brains to pull that off behind Michael’s back without the help of an archangel?”

“How do you know any of this?” Castiel demanded. “Samuel knew my name when I fist arrived. You know of affairs in Heaven. How?”

“We’re just that awesome.”

“No. I came for answers and you _will_ give them to me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Awfully demanding, aren’t you? Fine. We found out from Michael himself.”

Castiel seemed taken aback. “No, you couldn’t. He hasn’t come down to earth and you have not been to Heaven. How could you… Can you hear an angel’s true voice? But even if you could, the voice of an archangel…”

“Nope.” Dean shook his head. “Just a normal human. So don’t try it, or anything. I value my hearing.”

“Then how?”

“I have connections.” He was in a tough spot. He couldn’t reveal the fact that he had his own Cas without Castiel discovering the whole truth. And that could prove to be a disaster if this angel decided in the end that team Winchester was not where he wanted to be.

“I do not believe you.”

“It was me.” Anderson spoke up. “You already saw that I’m… different. Well, I can hear angels too. I heard Michael. Dean was trying to protect me by not saying anything.”

“Why would Michael tell _you_ anything?”

“Because he’s on the Winchesters’ side.” The cop informed him. “More importantly, he’s on humanity’s side.” 

“So, he _doesn’t_ want millions of people wiped out just to get your paradise when _you_ want it.” Dean remarked. “And he’s not willing to work with demons to get his way. In others words, he’s not an asshat. Surprise.”

Castiel looked between them before settling his gaze on Dean. “Your family threw Heaven’s plans off track long ago. How? Why?”

“Dude, seriously? You’re like a dog with a bone, man. Your plans sucked. And required lots of people to die.”

“And Dean to go to Hell.” Sam broke into the conversation. 

“Look, I doubt your going to just decide to help us right now. But do me a favor. Go to Heaven and take a good look around. See if it’s what it should be. ‘Cause let me tell you something, your kind has their issues. And they aren’t getting any better. Oh, and you probably shouldn’t tell anyone that you’re having doubts. And don’t tell anyone about him.” Dean gestured to Anderson. “Unless you want to be responsible for his death.”

Castiel looked confused. “He would not be killed simply because…”

“Yeah, he would.” Dean cut him off. “You know, for a badass, really old and powerful angel, you should have the words ‘gullible’ and ‘naïve’ tattooed to your forehead.”

“Then perhaps I shouldn’t believe anyone. Including you.”

“Don’t. Go look around and figure it out for yourself. Then, and only then, decide what to do.”

Castiel gave him an assessing look but seconds later the angel disappeared.

“That didn’t go too bad.” Sam commented.

Dean gave him a look. “Don’t be so sure. Castiel hasn’t picked a side yet. And he’s _not_ an angel you want against you. And from what I’m getting, this means Raphael is definitely forming his own force up in Heaven. It’s only a matter of time before he makes a move again.”

“But we’re okay for now.” Sam pointed out.

“For now.” Dean nodded. Then he turned to Anderson. “And what the hell? Telling him that you were the one to talk with Michael? Are you trying to paint a bulls-eye on your back?”

The cop shrugged. “I already had one. He knew that there was something very off about me. Hearing angels is a lot less weird than not being affected by their powers. Besides, I had to cover for Cas. We couldn’t let Castiel find out about him. Not yet. It could expose… well, everything.”

Dean sighed. Anderson was right. “Yeah, okay. But if it comes back to bite you, I’m not attending your funeral.”

The cop laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dean opened the gate and entered the yard, gesturing for the policeman to follow. The least he could do after the guy had come to help with an angel situation and possibly placed his life on the line was to offer him to stay for dinner. 

“’Course you realize there’s something even worse coming up.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Telling our parents and Cas about this when they get home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. Well, we've now caught up with all of my written chapters, so I'll no longer be posting every day. Don't worry, though. I write about two chapters a week, so you won't have to wait too long inbetween. I'll be posting on Tuesdays and Fridays... See you then!


	190. Stakeout

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety: Stakeout 

It was cold. Like, really cold. Freeze your ass off kind of cold. Dean pulled his leather jacket tighter around himself and wished that he was still young enough that using his mom or Cas for body heat was socially acceptable. But he’d just turned seventeen, so it was beyond weird to do things like that now. So he just had to suck it up and remember to bring a winter hat and gloves to his next stakeout. 

His cell phone rang. “Anything to report?”

“Yeah, my ass is freezing off.” He told his dad.

A chuckle came back to him. “You’re not alone. But let’s try this again; anything to report _about the job_?”

“Well, when you put it that way… nope.”

“Alls quiet here too.”

Dean sighed and looked at his watch. “Well, if this is a ritual thing, we’ll lose our window in ten minutes, so I say we take off after that.” Every real ritual that Bobby could find that matched up with the victims had to take place either between 12am and 1am (the so-called ‘witching hour’) or between 3am and 4am (devil’s hour). Of course what time it took place would depend on what the ritual was, who or what was performing the sacrifices, and who the victims were being sacrificed to. So many damned unanswered questions.

“How sure are we that it’ll be tonight? And one of these spots?” His dad questioned.

“Not that sure. I mean, looking at the pattern, it could be tonight or tomorrow. If not, we’ll have to try again next Friday and Saturday. But the rituals _have_ to take place on consecrated ground and after the last two murders, the cemeteries in this town are being watched closely by the cops. So, we got hunters stationed in the four churches around here. Hopefully that’ll be enough.”

His dad sighed. “Well, maybe next time, Pastor Jim could talk with the people running these places and get them to let us in and leave the heat on for us.”

Dean shifted where he was hiding in the bushes out front a small Baptist church. “Yeah, that _would_ be nice. But I can’t even imagine what excuse he’d have to tell them.”

“I’m sure he’d think of something good. Well, I’ll check back in soon. Take care, Dean.” 

Dean hung up as soon as he heard the dial tone. 

“I don’t believe that anything will be happening tonight.” Cas informed him from the shadows, making Dean jump just a bit.

“I agree.” 

This was one of those jobs that Dean didn’t even know where to start with. It wasn’t one that he or his dad had been on in the original timeline, but when it had been brought to them by Pastor Jim, they’d agreed to help. After all, who knew how it had been solved back then and if things had been changed with Dean altering so many things. The Harvelles were actively involved and Dean was almost certain that by this point Bill should be dead and Ellen pretty much retired. On the other hand, Caleb _was_ dead and he shouldn’t be. Rufus was taking time off due to his knee bugging him from having it screwed up during the summer. Of course there was Dean’s mom who was hunting long after she was supposed to have died. And then odd cases such as Anderson who should be living a normal life somewhere but instead was wrapped up in all this crap and would help out with the angel/demon stuff. So Dean’s original idea of sticking to certain hunts to try and preserve the correct continuity (or whatever the hell it was that Cas had said that they should do) was pretty much out the window. 

The job itself was a bit different. Bodies had turned up in the cemeteries looking like they had been ritualistically killed. The locals thought it was some wackos playing at Satanism or witchcraft. The problem was that the details of the rituals were to spot on. Too professional. Whoever made the sacrifices knew exactly what they were doing.

They’d consulted with Bobby and looked through a million pages of lore. And ended up eliminating Pagan gods from their list due to the specifics of the ritual and where the murders took place. Which was good. Dean hated dealing with Pagan gods. Pompous asses. Luckily, it wasn’t a demon thing either (unless it was being done wrong) or a tribute to Death or reapers. But that left the possibility of several other reasons that sacrifices could be being made. There wasn’t enough of a pattern yet to know for sure and no one wanted more bodies to set that pattern. It would be better to interrupt the culprits and find out that way.

But that wasn’t really turning out that well. Their stakeout had turned up nothing and they would be going home really late empty handed just to start again the next night. But at least it was the weekend and Dean was off from college and his dad didn’t have work. 

Dean shivered and tried to burrow deeper into his jacket.

“You are cold.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Nah, I’m sweating here. Thinking about striping down to nothing and doing some sunbathing.”

“I would not recommend it.”

Dean glanced up and saw that the angel had a slight smile on his face. “You’ve spent far too long hanging out with me Cas.” There had been a time when Cas would’ve taken him literally. And thinking of that brought back memories of the other Castiel. That one hadn’t shown back up since his first appearance outside the Winchesters’ yard. Not a word since. ‘Course, since no other angels had shown up to attack and Anderson was still alive, Dean figured Castiel had kept his visit a secret. Still, he wondered what was going to happen with all that eventually.

“Dean.”

The hunter’s head snapped up to face the angel. “Yeah?”

“It’s time to pick up the others and go.”

He sighed. Awesome. That meant yet another day of research and planning and another night of freezing his ass off and getting next to no sleep. “Okay, let’s split.”

He stood and Cas placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder and transported him home. A moment later, his parents were brought back too. Then Cas disappeared to go bring the Harvelles, Bobby, and Pastor Jim back to their homes. Dean sighed. Four in the morning. Definitely bedtime. 

He waved goodnight to both of his parents and then quietly crept past where Anderson was sleeping on the couch (they’d asked him to stay over to keep an eye on Sam) and headed upstairs. Hopefully things would turn out well tomorrow.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel walked around the house after everyone was fast asleep. He wanted to make certain that they were all safe. 

He’d been concerned ever since Dean had told him about the present time version of himself showing up that something was going to happen. The angel wished that he’d been there that day to protect his friends. Of course, that would’ve caused problems if the other Castiel had seen him and it would’ve exposed their secret, but still. The thought that a version of him could’ve harmed Dean while he was off on a hunt away from the young man just didn’t feel right. And ever since, Castiel was on guard for the other angel to show up again. But it hadn’t happened. Yet.

Still, Castiel refused to be at ease. So, instead of retiring to his room, the angel paced the house restlessly. He checked Sam’s room to find the boy sleeping peacefully. Likewise, Dean was completely out, so far not suffering from any nightmares. John and Mary were curled up together in the middle of their bed. Castiel nodded with satisfaction and teleported outside. He walked around the perimeter. Still secure. The angel went back inside, careful not to wake Anderson, and checked every room. The house was still safe. Not that it shouldn’t be with all the protection that the Winchesters had in place. 

He started to do another check of the downstairs when he sensed Sam behind him.

“What are you doing awake so early?”

“It’s not too early, Cas.” The boy protested. “It’s five-thirty. And I went to bed at ten. So that’s almost eight hours of sleep. Which is far more than anyone else in this house is gonna get.”

That was true enough. He turned to face the youngest Winchester. “Alright. Are you hungry?”

“If I was I wouldn’t ask you to cook breakfast. You still burn the pancakes. And I doubt everyone wants to wake up to the sound of the fire alarm.”

“I was going to offer to get out the box of cereal.”

“Oh. Nah, I’ll wait for the others.” Sam went and sat down at the table. Castiel followed. “Did you guys stop the whole sacrifice thing?”

“No. No one showed last night.”

“Oh. Well, I was thinking about it before bed. And I talked it over with Anderson and I think I’ve got some ideas.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Anderson is not a hunter, nor is he an expert in sacrifices or rituals.”

“No, he’s not. But he listens real well, and he helped me make sense of my own ideas running around in my head while I was trying to vocalize them. And it’s not like there’s anyone else outside of Dean that I can talk to about this stuff. Can you even imagine if I tried to bring this issue up with my friends from school? ‘Hey Jason, Pete, why do you think someone would sacrifice two people in cemeteries in this particular way?’ They’d think I was nuts! Besides, as I said, talking it over with Anderson helps ‘cause he’s smart and he listens to me and he’s a cop so he knows stuff. Besides, he doesn’t get freaked out by all this because he’s weird like all of us. Just, you know, don’t tell him that I said that because it’s probably not a very nice thing to say.” The boy took a deep breath. “I got a bit off topic, huh? Anyway, the biggest problem with this hunt was a lack of pattern because there were only two bodies and there were very slight differences in the kills and post-mortem cuts, right?” Sam didn’t even wait for a response before continuing. “But I was looking and maybe the differences aren’t a change in pattern but are the pattern itself. Like, you know, step two might be different than step one? So I got looking at the differences and there wasn’t enough _still_ to identify a culprit for certain, but I might’ve narrowed down the suspect list even more. Oh, and I marked down a couple that I felt were most likely.”

“That sounds like a very productive evening.”

“Yeah, it was. Well, most of it. I also watched some tv.” He shrugged. “Anyways, all my notes and stuff are on my desk in my room. I’ll bring them down later. Hopefully they’ll help.”

“I’m sure your parents and Dean…”

“No!” Sam looked startled, then calmed down. “I mean, we should discuss it with just my parents first.”

Castiel was confused. Sam and Dean were inseparable. It was unusual for the younger to request that his brother be left out of something. “Why don’t you wish for Dean to know? Do you think the thing we are hunting is something that is dangerous to him?”

“No. Well, no more than usual. I just… Dean would never complain, because hunting is his thing and he’s never turned down a job where he could save lives, but it’s just… he looks tired, Cas. And with all his school work and these late nights hunting and stuff…” Sam shrugged. “I just want to let him sleep in and give him a chance to concentrate on resting up and doing college stuff and all.”

Castiel smiled. “That is very thoughtful of you.”

The boy blushed. “Dean deserves people to think of him sometimes.”

“Yes, he does.”

They sat in silence for a while before the phone started to ring. Sam jumped up and ran to grab it before it could wake anyone. 

Castiel went upstairs to check in on Dean. Still asleep. And it looked like so far it was another night free of Hell memories. Good. 

John and Mary hadn’t moved at all since he’d last seen them, so he left them to catch up on their sleep. 

Then the angel teleported outside once again to make certain that everything was secure. Unsurprisingly, it was.

Once he got back inside, Castiel saw Sam hanging up the phone. The boy looked a bit upset. The angel approached him.

“Sam, is something wrong?”

“Yeah, that was Pastor Jim. He wants to meet with everyone later this morning. There was another sacrifice performed last night.”


	191. Cannot be Pronounced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed my updates last week... me and my entire family were all sick with the flu. We're getting better now and I'm back to writing, so expect another chapter for friday!

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-One: Cannot be Pronounced 

“Damn it!” Dean exclaimed, slamming his fist against the table roughly. “What the hell could we have missed? We were at all the churches. Did we leave too early?” He got up from where he’d been sitting and started pacing, running his hands through his hair. He knew it. He knew that he shouldn’t have given in to his weakness and left just because he was cold and tired. 

Dean looked around the Harvelles’ bar to see who would answer him, but it seemed that almost no one had any answers. When he’d woken up that morning, he’d been told that they were all meeting there to discuss ‘new developments’. That was when he’d started getting a bad feeling. And the looks that Sam was giving him and Cas’ avoidance of the issue hadn’t helped any. 

“The murder was reported to have taken place shortly after three o’clock in the morning.” Pastor Jim informed the group.

“We were all still there at that time.” Dean’s mom pointed out.

“But not where the ritual took place. It happened in one of the cemeteries.”

“What? But the police were guarding them. We even drove past and saw several officers patrolling. How did…”

“One of the officers _was_ the sacrifice victim.” Jim revealed. 

“Wait… how? There were none that were alone.” Dean protested. 

“It seems that one officer was killed outside the cemetery and the other was dragged inside and sacrificed.”

“That don’t fit the victim pattern, though.” Bobby brought up. “The other two were teens.”

“Maybe they were just the most convenient victims, and there isn’t a type.” John offered.

“Maybe.” Bobby conceded.

“I have a theory.” Sam spoke up “I was working on this last night and I was thinking that maybe the ritual has steps and each murder is gonna have slightly different rules. So the age might need to change.”

“That’s entirely possible.” Dean nodded. “So what do we got with the ages?”

“Well, the first two were fifteen and then seventeen. But the policeman was twenty-six.” Pastor Jim announced.

“Still not _that_ old.” Sam looked thoughtful.

“How old was the partner.” Dean inquired. “You know, the guy that was killed outside the cemetery.”

“Older. He was the senior partner.”

“So maybe age _is_ important.” Sam theorized. “If so, the next victim could be around the same age. It would make sense if it was something like they were chosen in similar groups of two and then move to the next age bracket. So, then after the next guy, the age might jump again. Unless of course the next one completes the ritual.”

“There won’t _be_ a next one.” Dean insisted.

“Of course not.” Sam agreed. “I was speaking hypothetically.”

Dean sent him a smile. “I know.” He turned to address everyone. “But if we go with Sammy’s theory, maybe we can figure out this ritual a bit more. And stop this whole mess.”

“Well, we’ll need my books.” Bobby mentioned.

“I will bring them here.” Castiel offered.

“Then let’s get this party started.” Dean proclaimed, with more enthusiasm than he really felt.

Hours later, the teen took a bite of his cheeseburger and turned another page in yet another useless book. A drop of ketchup fell on one of the age-worn pages and Dean glanced up in alarm to make certain that Bobby hadn’t seen it. Good. He used his sleeve to try and wipe up the evidence, but only succeeded in smearing it. Crap. Oh well. He turned the page and kept skimming.

Nothing. He turned the page again. 

Well, this looked promising… maybe… nope. Nothing. Dean turned the page.

A few pages later, something caught the hunter’s eye. He read the paragragh a couple times just to be sure.

“Dude, found something!”

“What?” His dad asked.

Dean found himself surrounded by everyone in the room. “This. It’s a ritual of some sort. And it looks like you were right, Sammy. It _does_ change. The first two sacrifices need to be performed on teenage virgins and there are slight differences between the first and second kills. That was the part of the whole thing that was needed to raise this thing. And please don’t ask me what ‘this thing’ is, ‘cause the name isn’t anything I’ve seen before and there’s no pictures.”

“Let me take a look.” Bobby peered over his shoulder and Dean pointed at the name of the thing that someone was trying to raise. Well, _had raised_. “Ain’t nothing I’m familiar with. But I can cross reference it.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

“But if the first two were to raise this thing… what are the rest of the sacrifices for?” Sam asked.

Dean squinted at the page, as if that would help make the words make more sense. “Well, the rest of the victims need to be young, but they don’t have to be teens or virgins, and they are supposed to… uh, I guess it’s to control or… no… to appease it?”

“Well, that’s probably what the person raisin’ the creature though too.” Bobby commented. “But that word, combined with the words proceeding and following it, completely change the entire meaning. The rest of the victims are to _feed_ it. And there’s no set number on victims.”

“So the dude has a vicious pet to feed.” Dean surmised. “Forever.”

“Yep, but I’m bettin’ that if he don’t keep up with the feeding schedule, this pet _will_ bite the hand that feeds him.”

“So what is this thing called?” Bill Harvelle wanted to know.

“Rice krispy treats.” Dean proclaimed.

“What?”

Bobby smacked him in the back of his head.

“Hey, that’s the closest I could get to pronouncing _that_.”

“I don’t think there is an English translation for that name. But let me cross reference and I’ll get back ta you all with more details.”

“Yay, more research.” Dean groaned.

“Hey, I got something interesting here, too.” Sam spoke up. “Not sure if it’s a coincidence or not, but the cemetery hasn’t been the same any of the times.”

“They probably move so as not to get caught.” Ellen pointed out.

“Yeah, I thought of that.” Sam nodded. “Until I noticed that it was changing by a certain distance and direction. I think it’s creating a pattern. And if I follow it, there are two possible cemeteries that might fit. And one of them isn’t in the town lines.”

“Great work, Sammy.” Dean praised. They’d still be back at square one if it hadn’t been for his little brother’s theories.

“Thanks, Dean.”

“Well, let’s keep working.” Dean’s dad suggested. “If we’re going to be going out tonight, we should try to have all the information we can before then.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary let out a sigh as she saw her son shiver yet again. He was refusing to leave the cold graveyard even though it was after four in the morning and snow was falling down steadily from the sky. 

Castiel had brought all of the other hunters back already and their family was the only ones left. They’d taken the cemetery outside the town limits, which Sam had actually deemed the most likely location. It had also been suggested that nothing would be happening tonight, but no one wanted to bet on it after what had happened the night before. So, the Harvelles and the Winchesters had staked out this place while Bobby and Pastor Jim had gone to the other location and had had to keep out of site of the police that were patrolling there. 

Four o’clock was again when the window closed on the time for the ritual, but Dean had refused to leave. Just in case. But Mary watched as he grew more exhausted as the minutes passed. And the extreme cold was going to make him ill. 

“Dean, honey, nothing’s going to happen tonight.”

“That’s what I said last night.”

“We didn’t have all the information last night.”

“And we still don’t. We know very little about this thing. I mean, all we know is that someone succeeded in conjuring it and now has to feed it by sacrificing young people. I mean, Sam _thinks_ it’s a once a week thing, but what if it’s not? And what if the whole ‘witching/devil’s hour’ thing was only relevant to raising the thing and not to feeding it? Then we could leave now and another victim could die in two minutes.”

“Dean,” She cut him off. “You can’t live here just because you’re plagued by ‘what ifs’. And you know that you can’t save everyone. You have a terrible habit of shouldering blame that you don’t need to.”

“Not sure the victims’ families would agree with you.”

Mary sighed, and pulled him into a hug. He remained a bit stiff. Yep, her son was in one of his moods. This was one of those times that she truly wished that she could erase all that he’d gone through to make him feel like he was a failure. “And what of all the people that you’ve saved? What do you think they’d say?”

Dean shrugged.

“But you won’t be able to save anyone if you freeze to death out here because you drop to the ground from exhaustion in the middle of a pile of snow. So, since all evidence points to the fact that there will be no victims until next weekend, please let’s just go home.” Dean seemed like he’d protest, so she added “For my own piece of mind.”

“Fine.” Dean conceded. “But we need to look into this more tomorrow.”

“ _After_ you get some rest.”

“Sure.”

Mary had a feeling that he wouldn’t be getting near enough of it. 

She signaled to Castiel, and the angel and John came over.

“Are we ready to return home?”

“Yes.”

The angel nodded. Everyone gathered around and they were transported home. 

Mary offered Dean a smile as he stepped back. He forced one in return, then turned to walk upstairs to his room. She refrained from mentioning the fact that he was tracking snow throughout the house with his boots.

The tired mother shook her head and started to follow her husband and son through the living room and towards the stairs, but her foot accidently kicked something on the ground and almost tripped her. Mary gasped as she heard the thing that she’d kicked let out a groan.

The hunter looked down and saw that Anderson was lying on the ground near the couch with a blanket over him and a pillow under his head. Well, the pillow was where his head had probably been resting before Mary had tripped over him, but now the young man was sitting up with his gun in his hand.

“It’s just us.” Mary assured him.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Well, you can put your weapon down.”

“Sorry.” He shoved his gun under the couch, where it had probably been stowed while he’d slept earlier.

“Why are you sleeping on the floor?” She questioned.

He gestured to Sam who was sleeping on the couch. “The kid fell asleep at the table while researching and I didn’t want to wake him. So I tried to carry him to bed, but he’s getting big, and my arm was bugging me a bit, so this was as far as I got.”

“So you slept on the floor? You could’ve used Castiel’s room. It’s not like he ever uses it.”

“I know. You offer it every time I stay here. But with Sam out here and the door right there… I just felt better if I was between the boy and anything coming in.”

Mary smiled. “Well, thank you. But now Castiel can transport Sam into his bed and you can sleep on something that _won’t_ kill your back.”

The cop chuckled. “That would probably be helpful.”

Mary went to ask the angel to take care of her youngest son, only to find him right by the couch, already placing his hand on the boy. It seemed that Castiel had been lurking and listening. Typical. 

Once Anderson was seated on the couch, Mary thought about retiring to her own bed. After all, they would all probably be up in just a couple of hours. But first, she wanted to ask the cop something.

“Did all of Sam’s research lead anywhere? I mean, did he find anymore answers?”

Anderson nodded. “Yeah, that’s why he refused to go to bed at a normal time.”

“You know that you could always order him to go to bed, right? You are the adult here.” 

The young man shrugged a bit sheepishly. “He was really excited. This is the way he feels that he could help out his brother. And you know, I really think he likes doing this stuff too. He’s got a spark to his eyes while talking about it all. Anyways, he found out a lot of information about what you’re after. Well, not _a lot_ a lot, because there doesn’t seem to be too much recorded, but there’s more now than you had. And it’s a bit disturbing. But it should be helpful. His notebook is on the dining room table if you want to check it out in the morning.”

“I will. Thank you. And thanks for staying over to watch him again.”

“It’s not a problem. He’s a great kid.”

“Yes, he is. Well, get some more rest.” Mary left him to get settled on the couch and walked into the dining room. 

Sure enough, there were books all over the table; some open, some closed. Mary stacked them neatly into a couple of piles and then glanced at the open notebook. She skimmed the notes and kind of wished that she hadn’t read any of this until she’d gotten up later. Because with these details fresh in her mind, Mary wasn’t sure how she was going to get to sleep.


	192. Death Comes to All

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Two: Death Comes to All 

Dean was exhausted. Sam could tell just by looking at him, but he wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea to call him out on it or not. His big brother had been trying all week to come up with answers for their current job, and now it was Friday evening and the hunters were going to be going out again to try and stop another sacrifice from taking place. 

But Sam wasn’t sure how ready they really were. Pastor Jim wasn’t going along this time due to an emergency at his church, so they’d be down a man. And they were definitely going in unprepared. Sam had found a bunch of information in one of the books that Bobby had let him borrow a week ago, but not much since. And the stuff that he’d found out, wasn’t good. 

The thing that had been conjured was called… well, the original name started with an ‘R’ and was really long and couldn’t be pronounced. Dean kept calling it ‘rice krispie treats’. But, after hours of cross-referencing, Sam found that it was the same thing as a creature listed as ‘Tagann-bás-do-gach’ which roughly translated to ‘death comes to all’ (sometimes just referred to as bás, meaning death). And its name made complete sense the more Sam knew about it. Not only did it need a young human sacrificed to it once a week (and it would then consume the heart of the victim), but the creature’s mere touch could kill a person. Right after feeding, it was so strong that a human would die moments after their skin came in contact with the bás. But the more time that passed since its ‘meal’, the longer it took for the thing to drain the life from people. There wasn’t much in the way of a physical description of it; large, horrid, threatening. It was also said to be very quick and hard to kill. And, of course, there were no details on _how_ to kill it.

But that wasn’t stopping his family, the Harvelles, and Bobby from getting ready to head out to the cemeteries yet again. Only, Dean was looking like he should be heading to bed instead. Sam knew that his older brother had been running himself ragged between college stuff and trying to research, not to mention having Cas bring him out to the scenes of the attacks just to look around. He really wished that Dean would just sit this one out, but knew that there was no way in Hell that _that_ was going to happen.

“So, Bill and Ellen will take the least likely location and stay out of sight of the local police. They are still patrolling. If something happens, call and Cas can get the rest of us there in just a moment.” Sam’s dad announced as he checked his weapons.

“We’ll divide up into one team of two and one of three and keep watch over the other cemetery.” Mary continued. “Now, if the person or persons responsible for the sacrifices are keeping watch, we’ll have to keep out of their sight as well.”

“I have a better idea.” Dean spoke up. “They attacked the cop because the dude fit the profile of a good sacrifice victim. But if someone isn’t right there, we run the risk of a victim being taken and brought in from somewhere else. And the possibility of someone’s life being put at stake is not acceptable. So, I figure that I could play bait.”

“No!” Sam protested.

“Sammy, hear me out. You guys too.” Dean added looking at their parents. “I’m young and the perfect looking victim. I show up in the graveyard and make myself look like a random teenage delinquent or something, and the person doing the sacrifices will be on me in a second.”

“That’s what we’re afraid of.” Their mom commented.

“Why? Look, first off, I can take care of myself if some guy or a couple of them jumps me. And besides, I’ll have you, Dad, Cas, and Bobby hiding and waiting to back me up. Not a problem.”

“And what do we do if we catch the person responsible?” Ellen asked. 

“We convince them that it’s in their best interest to help us find the thing they’re feeding.” Dean replied.

“That shouldn’t be too hard.” Sam interjected. “I mean, at this point, the person probably feels that they bit off more than they can chew.” He made a face. “Ick… not the imagery I wanted when thinking about heart-eating monsters.”

“But Sam is right.” Their dad nodded.

“And once we track down and eliminate the creature, we tip off the police to the identity of the person who sacrificed those people.” Their mom proclaimed. 

“So, we ready to do this?” Dean asked, shoving his gun into the back of his pants. Since he was planning on being bait, he’d probably be going without the machetes that everyone else was bringing along with the silver ammo loaded firearms. 

Everyone started packing up their things and Sam took the opportunity to approach his brother. 

“I don’t want you to be bait.” He blurted out. Damn it. He’d wanted to be a bit more eloquent and subtle.

Dean turned to look at him. “I know, Sammy. But I’ll be fine. You of all people know that I can kick serious ass when I need to.” 

“I also know many of the times that you got your ass kicked. And I… I don’t want you hurt again. I don’t want to have to see someone carrying your body through the door.”

“That won’t happen. I promise that I’ll come back from this walking on my own two feet, okay?”

Sam nodded, even though he was still scared for his brother. It was bad enough when Dean was going out on dangerous hunts, but knowing that the teen was putting himself out there with a big old target on his back was troubling. But Sam had to trust him. “Okay.”

“If you and Joanna are ready, I’ll bring you to the house.” Cas offered, making Sam jump. He hadn’t heard the angel come up behind him.

“Sure.”

Jo ran up to stand next to him, a bag slung over her shoulder. “I’m ready! Bye, Daddy! Bye, Mom!”

Ellen looked at Sam’s mom. “Thank Anderson again for watching her. Our typical babysitter is busy and I don’t trust anyone not ‘in the know’ to do the job.”

“Not a problem. But I can’t guarantee that he’ll get her to bed on time.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t his fault! I practically begged him to let me stay up! Besides, the research paid off.”

His mom smiled and gave him a kiss on the head. “True. But you have no excuse tonight. Get to bed _on time_.”

As Cas got ready to transport them to the house, Sam thought about how wrong his mom was. He had a really good reason to stay up late. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at all until he knew that Dean was going to be okay.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean kicked at the snow covering the ground as he wandered aimlessly around the cemetery. His headphones covered his ears and he bopped his head to the imaginary music. The hunter didn’t have anything playing on his walkman of course; any music would only serve to distract him and stop him from hearing anyone or anything that might be sneaking up on him. But wearing the device would give him the right look of a carefree teen. Dean took another swing of his beer, before chucking the empty bottle at a particularly large headstone. He tried not to wince as it shattered. Breaking stuff in a cemetery was never a good idea, but a normal kid hanging out in one would probably not care about things like that.

Dean coughed a bit and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He was probably getting sick from all these freakin’ nights out in the damn cold. Just perfect.

He was wondering how to kill some more time when he heard very quiet foot steps approaching. Had he not been trained, Dean would’ve missed them as they were muffled by the soft, powdery snow. 

The young hunter didn’t tense, so as not to give away that he knew that something was up. He knew that his parents, Cas, and Bobby were watching closely from the outskirts of the graveyard and would act if anything got out of hand. After Cas had taken Sam back home, it had been suggested that someone stay by Dean’s side at all times, but the youngest hunter shot that down immediately. First off, it would look suspicious; after all, what teenager would hang out in a cemetery after dark with their parent? Also, they knew from what happened with the cops that anyone with the intended victim was disposed of quickly. Dean didn’t want the guy that was doing all of this to just stand back from a distance and shoot his mom or dad before approaching. No way would he endanger them like that.

Two. There were two distinct sets of footfalls coming up right behind him. Dean waited until the heavier one was almost upon him, and then he spun and kicked his would-be attacker in the kneecap. The man let out a grunt and went down to a crouch. He then kicked the dude in the head, sending him sprawling. There was a young woman dressed all in black standing right next to him and she tried to spray Dean in the face with some sort of pepper spray. The hunter jerked his head to the side, closing his eyes and launched himself at her, tackling the woman to the ground. They landed in a tangle of arms and legs. Dean felt the left side of his face and that eye burning a bit, but he ignored it as he snatched the can out of the chick’s hand and threw it far away. She reached up and started clawing at his face with her nails as she also tried to get her knee in between his legs. Uh uh, that was _not_ gonna happen. 

Dean pinned her arms down and head butted her. She blinked, stunned. He felt a bit dazed himself, but recovered enough to punch her in the jaw, knocking her out. Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind and yanked to his feet. Dean’s body was spun around to face a very pissed off looking guy with a boot shaped print on his head. Heh… Looked like Dean had left quite an impression.

“You little brat.” The man growled.

“Little?” Dean questioned. “Really? You’re like, what? Maybe four inches taller than me and less than a decade older. Your ‘biggest’ claim to fame is the extra pounds you’re lugging around.”

“Shut your trap, or I’ll gut you right here.”

“Nah, you won’t. You gotta kill me right, don’tcha? Or you’re little death-pet will be pissed. And I wouldn’t wanna piss off that thing if I were you.”

The guy looked shocked. “What? How do you know about…”

“Because this was a trap, asshole.” Dean’s dad announced from behind the guy. “Now release my son before I blow your brains out.”

Dean smirked. “Yeah, I’d listen to him.”

The guy let go of Dean and he stepped back. 

Dean saw his mom approach as well. Cas and Bobby were hanging back just in case any surprises happened.

“You guys are making a big mistake. You don’t want to get involved in…”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You know what, I think we do. And I think you’re the one that made a mistake. You raised something that you now have to sacrifice people to every week. How’s that working out for you?”

The guy scowled.

“We can help.” Dean mom offered. “Tell us how to find and kill it, and we’ll take care of the creature for you. And then all this madness can stop.”

“And if I don’t.”

“Well, you’re not sacrificing anyone else, so _you_ can explain that to your buddy when it shows up looking for you.” Dean responded.

“Fine.” The guy didn’t look very happy about the arrangement. 

Dean watched his dad step over to him. “So, where can we find this thing?”

“In my basement.”

“Really?” Dean asked, amused. “You’re keeping a dangerous monster that you conjured in your basement? Does your mommy know?”

“Dean…” Hid dad warned.

“It’s there until I call for it to come and feed.”

“I need your address.”

“787 Riverside lane.”

“Okay. Mary, you stay here with Dean.”

“Dad…” Dean started to protest.

“I’m just going to check it out, and I’ll take our fast transportation. If something is there, I’ll come back and we all go together. Okay?”

Dean nodded reluctantly. He watched his dad head off and then turned back to face the guy. “Why’d you do it?”

“What?”

“Raise this thing? I mean, it’s not like this creature does anything for you. You and your bitch of a girlfriend there just psychopaths that get off killing folks and this was as good enough an excuse as any?”

The guy’s eye narrowed. “You couldn’t ever understand what I’d get out of it.”

“Uh no, I couldn’t. ‘Cause I’m not a crazy douche.”

The guy grinned. “And I’m not crazy either. But I _will_ be powerful.”

“How do you figure that?” Dean’s mom asked. “The bás doesn’t give power of any kind to the one who raises it.”

“That thing? It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme. I was just told that if I conjured it, I’d be rewarded greatly.”

Warning bells started going off in Dean’s head. “Told by who?”

“Some woman. I thought she was just some crazy broad until her eyes turned black… then I knew I was into something intense. She had power. Power that could benefit me.”

“She was a demon, jackass.” Dean shot back. “And I promise the only thing you’ll get from working with them is stabbed in the back.”

“I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“What are you…”

“Dean!” His mom yelled.

Dean spun around to see a creature that looked like it was straight out of some bizarre nightmare looming over him. It reached out one twisted, clawed hand and grabbed the young hunter’s face. Dean couldn’t even gasp as he felt weakness overtake him and his already cold body start to freeze even further.


	193. Dangerous Opponents

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Three: Dangerous Opponents 

There was no monster in the basement. That much became clear the moment that John and Cas entered. They hadn’t appeared right in the underground room. That would’ve been far too dangerous. Instead, the angel had brought them to right outside the house and the two had made their way as quickly and cautiously as they could into the place and down the stairs. When their flashlights had revealed nothing, the hunter had flicked the light switch. The place was a mess, but empty.

“Damn it.” John exclaimed. “Lying asshole. Let’s get back.”

“Wait.” Cas commanded. 

“What? Why? There’s nothing here. We need to get back to the others.”

“There may not be a tagann-bás-do-gach here, but there is something that may be important.”

John looked at the angel curiously. “What do you mean?”

“First of all, those books are more on par with the type that Bobby Singer keeps than what a novice would find to raise a creature. I would wager that these two had help finding the right materials. And I also know how. That.”

John’s gaze followed to where the angel was pointing. On an old, dilapidated workbench sat a strange-looking bowl. The hunter approached it and looked at its contents. Blood.

“What the…”

“Demons use it to contact each other.”

“So these guys were working with a demon?”

“It would seem so.”

John looked around the room, more alert now. “What do the demons want with two morons conjuring a bás?”

“My best guess would be that the demons helped to have it conjured. But I am unsure of why. As far as I know, there is no connection between the two.”

“You’ve never run into one of these creatures before? Or heard of them working with demons?”

“Had I done so, I would’ve brought it up long before now.”

John sighed. “More questions then.” He started to walk around the room, trying to see if there were any other clues. But, aside from some old books and the blood bowl, there was nothing in there that seemed out of place.

“We should return to alert the others to this development.” Cas suggested.

“Great idea.” 

“I have a better one.” A woman’s voice interrupted. “You can both die here.”

John spun around to find a young woman standing there, dressed in a pair of jeans, a dark purple shirt, and a denim jacket. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a braid and her eyes were black. He recognized her immediately. It was hard to forget the first demon that he’d ever seen.

“Meg?”

She made a face. “You know that that’s _not_ my name.”

“Dean says it is, so it is.”

She seemed pissed now. “Yes, and thanks to your son, others have called me that as well. I made the mistake of telling that story and now it’s a bit of a joke.”

John smiled. “Well, it seems then that it’s more your big mouth that got you in trouble than my son. _Meg_.”

She scowled at him and stalked forwards. “I wouldn’t taunt me if I were you, John.”

“What do you want?” Cas inquired.

The demon turned to him. “Lucifer topside. What do you want? I mean really? Who exactly are you and why have you stayed with the Winchesters all these years.”

“I am their friend.” The angel replied. “And you must know by now that Lucifer will never be released.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that.”

“Is that what this is all about? Trying to raise your master?” John demanded.

Meg rolled her eyes. “This? No, I think I’ll let you try and figure out what this was all about. Well, I would if I had any intentions of letting you both live.” She pulled a large serrated knife from her jacket and gazed at it almost lovingly.

“Yeah, I got one too.” John replied, retrieving the demon killing knife from his jacket and thanking God that he’d brought it. He’d almost left it at home, but Dean had suggested taking it since they didn’t know what would work on the bás and even though there was no indication that it was demonic, there was no reason not to bring the weapon along. 

She narrowed her eyes at the sight. “You really think I’m going to let you near me with that?”

“I really think that ‘letting’ will have nothing to do with it.”

“Cocky… I like it.” She winked seductively, and then lunged towards him.

John side stepped out of the way and tried to come at her with his knife, but she put her hand up and he found himself flung backwards. Damn, but he hated that demon move. 

Then Cas was moving towards her and his angel blade was in his hand. Unfortunately, Meg had turned her head and she saw him. 

“Oh, I’d heard that you hunters had gotten your hands on some of those weapons. But you won’t get a chance to use it.” She waved her hand at the angel. Cas kept coming towards her. John smirked. He was obviously more powerful than the demon. “What? But how?”

“Practice.” Cas replied.

Meg turned again and John found his body moving once again. Then he was pressed against the demon’s much smaller frame, one of her arms wrapped around his middle and the other holding a blade to his throat.

“You move any close to me and Johnny-boy gets gills.” Meg threatened. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Mary watched in horror as Dean slumped down and the creature stepped away from her son. It had all happened too damned fast. She hadn’t had time to shoot the thing and now her son was dead. 

“No!” She screamed and pulled the trigger.

The thing turned towards her. It was tall, with skin the color of tree bark. Actually, the texture looked to be about the same as well. It wore some sort of dark cloak that covered its body but left its head and forearms exposed. The thing had two ice blue eyes, three slits for its nose, and a large mouth where a long, forked tongue perpetually flicked in and out. Stringy brown hair hung down to its hunched shoulders. Seeing her, it grinned a malicious grin and started stalking towards her. 

Mary shot it three more times, but the monster didn’t even slow down. She heard a shotgun go off and saw Bobby running towards them from the far end of the cemetery. Dark orange blood was running from the creature’s wounds, but the bás didn’t seem to care. It _did_ seem torn though on who to go after first. 

Then, from the corner of her eye, Mary caught sight of the guy that’d conjured the damned thing grabbing Dean under his armpits and dragging his body away. She glanced back and forth from the bás to the man taking her son away. She knew that she couldn’t take her attention off of the dangerous creature before her, but she also didn’t want that man to take away Dean’s body. Even if her baby was dead, she needed to see him again. And if she still had him, there might be a chance of bringing him back.

So, decision made, she turned to Bobby. “Bullets aren’t working! Use the machete!” 

She didn’t even wait for his response, or to see if he’d follow instructions (hell, he’d been hunting longer than she had, he’d probably been planning on going for the blade anyway), she just broke away from the fight and trusted the man to watch her back. He hadn’t let her family down yet.

As she got closer to the man that was now kneeling over Dean, she saw that he’d arranged the teenager’s body like the other victims had been placed when they’d been killed. And he was holding a serrated knife over her son’s heart and chanting something.

That was when she realized that Dean had to still be alive. The bás wouldn’t have killed the only viable sacrifice in the cemetery. It must’ve just held onto the boy long enough to incapacitate him. And now this bastard was planning to finish him off as part of the ritual. Hell no.

Mary didn’t even think about fighting the man. She wasn’t risking Dean getting hurt further or possibly killed in the scuffle. So, she aimed her gun and shot the man in the right shoulder. The guy dropped his knife and fell backwards with a scream. The hunter walked over to him and aimed the gun at his head.

“I should pull the trigger.” She informed him.

“He’s still alive!” The man practically cried. 

“Only thanks to me, you sick, murdering asshole.”

“Please, please don’t kill me.” 

“ _I_ don’t kill humans. Not that _you_ really qualify.” Mary brought her foot down hard on the bleeding, bullet wound in the guy’s shoulder. His eyes rolled back as he passed out.

After a quick glance to make certain that Bobby was still alright, Mary dropped down next to Dean. Even knowing that he had to be alive, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. Her son looked dead. His skin was deathly pale and his lips were blue. Mary couldn’t see any indication that he was breathing. She placed a hand by his mouth and nose and felt a slight breath coming out. But it felt cooler than normal. Yet it wasn’t near as bad as the ice cold temperature of the teen’s skin. The worried mother took his pulse. It was weak and slow. Despite the fact that she herself was cold out here in the snow, Mary pulled her coat off and draped it over her son. She wrapped her scarf around him and gave him her hat as well. She wasn’t sure if any of it would help undo what that creature had done to him, but the extra heat couldn’t hurt.

“Mary! I could use some help!”

Mary turned to see Bobby on his back with the thing bending down over him, ready to touch his skin. The hunter got to her feet and ran towards them. She aimed her gun and shot the bás in the arm twice. When it looked up at her, she shot its face. 

Bobby took its moment of distraction to retrieve his machete from the ground next to him and he swung it around, chopping the creature’s hand clean off. 

The bás let out an ear piercing screech. The orange blood sprayed everywhere and Bobby cried out as some of it splattered onto him. 

“Dammit!” The older hunter scrambled out of the way. “Don’t let that stuff get on you. It’s so cold, it burns!”

“Good to know.” Mary put her gun away and pulled out her own machete. How exactly she was going to decapitate the bás without getting its blood all over her, she didn’t know. But the thing _was_ going to die.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the creature was standing in front of her. Oh yeah, Sam’s research _had_ said that it was really fast. Mary brought her machete up, but the creature reached out its one remaining hand to grab onto her. The hunter twisted out of the way, and the thing only managed to claw through her shirt sleeve and skin. Her left arm screamed in pain as her skin was sliced, but she’d managed to escape the same fate that her son had been put through. 

Mary stepped back to try again, and saw that Bobby was behind the creature. There was no way that it would survive.

“Put your weapons down!” A woman’s voice yelled.

Mary turned her head to see the young lady that had been working with the guy, now standing above Dean. And she was pointing her son’s gun at the two hunters.


	194. Cold

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Four: Cold

The blade of the knife was pressed right up against his throat and John could see that Cas was weighing his options, trying to decide if he’d be able to get to the hunter before the demon killed him. Sure, the angel could teleport (well, technically, it was flying, but to John it didn’t seem like flying as it was instantaneous, so he always considered it teleportation) but demons were quick and they both knew that Meg wouldn’t hesitate to slit his throat if she felt that Cas was making a move. 

But John wasn’t a helpless hostage. And he certainly wasn’t going to just stand there and be used as a chess pawn while his wife and son were possibly in danger back in the cemetery. He was going to get himself out of this. The hunter made eye contact with Cas and nodded slightly to let him know that he was planning something.

Obviously understanding, the angel started talking to distract Meg. “You don’t have to threaten his life.”

“Oh, I don’t? What, you two are just going to do as I say because…”

“Because we are curious as to why you would be wasting your time helping two humans to conjuring a tagann-bás-do-gach.”

“Boredom.” 

“Unlikely. I’m assuming that you have your hands full following orders to try and free Lucifer. That is, if those plans are still considered possible at all. And if a demon were to actually become bored, they would kill humans with their own hands. This would provide you with no satisfaction.”

John felt her arm relax slightly. She snorted. “Well, aren’t _you_ the demon expert. But what should I expect. You obviously have certain… abilities. And you had to have learned that magic somewhere. Maybe made a deal yourself?”

“No.”

She shifted to the side, probably trying to get a better look at Cas. And that was John’s opening. “Well, then…”

That was as far as the hunter would let her get. He drove his elbow back and into her stomach as he tried to slip out of her arms. But she was fast and brought her knife swiping across to finish him off. Luckily, he’d moved just enough that the blade sliced across his jaw instead of his throat. John felt pain explode across the right side of his face as he pushed away from the demon and then Cas was there and then they were both across the room. The hunter reached up to grab onto the wound that was now pouring blood down onto his jacket.

“Well played.” Meg offered, looking pissed but also impressed. 

Then Cas was in front of her with his angel blade held at the ready. The demon’s eyes widened in surprise and fear. She stepped back and put up one hand. John wondered what she was planning since they all knew that her powers hadn’t worked on Cas before. But then an old weight machine flew across the room and slammed right into the angel. Cas was knocked to his knees. It only took a second for him to get back up, and he pushed it into the wall with one hand.

“Ooh, strong man.” Meg smirked. “How about this.”

Suddenly the room was filled with furniture, debris, and other crap being flung around. The entire place seemed to shake. John looked up as the ceiling started to creak. He flung his arms over his head and dropped to his knees as the work bench came flying towards him. By the time he got to his feet again, everything had stopped. And Meg was gone.

“Where’d she go?”

“I’m not certain. But I _am_ positive that we will be meeting with her again.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right.” John agreed. “But that’s a problem for another time. We gotta get back and make sure that the others are alright.”

Cas gave him a concerned look. “You seem to be bleeding quite a bit.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna die. I need to make sure the rest of my family can say the same.” He shrugged. “Besides, Mary has the first aid stuff.”

“Then let us get back.”

Keeping pressure on his wound, John nodded. He just hoped that they weren’t too late.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Freezing. Dean was freezing. To Death. And he was pretty sure that that wasn’t an exaggeration. 

He’d never been quite so cold before. He could barely feel his own body and he could tell that his heart wasn’t beating the fast enough. And he couldn’t get his eyes to open. Hell, he couldn’t get any part of himself to respond to his internal commands. All his body wanted to do was sleep. But a little warning bell in his head was insisting that that was probably a bad idea.

So Dean struggled to stay awake and maybe even wrestle control back over his frozen body. After what seemed like forever, one of the fingers on his right hand twitched. Well, it wasn’t much, but it was an improvement. 

All the while, Dean was slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings. Besides the overwhelming sensation of cold. Like the fact that something was covering his upper body and making it just slightly less cold than his legs. And there were noises too, but they seemed so distant that they couldn’t possibly be important. 

But then his body was being shifted. What… Hands. Someone was touching him. And not gently. Then whatever had been covering his upper body was gone. Dean shivered. His body was still mostly numb, but the young hunter was positive that the hands were still running over his body. Then he was moved onto his side and he felt his back become even colder. Dean was dropped back down.

His brain, which was apparently moving as slow as his heart was beating, tried to piece everything together. What had just happened? Why would… His gun. Someone had taken his gun.

Dean put all his effort into opening his eyes. This time it worked.

His vision wasn’t that clear, but through the weird haziness the teen saw that bitch from earlier standing over him and holding a gun… his gun. She was pointing it at something that Dean couldn’t see. 

Sleep started calling to him again, but with a gun nearby, the young hunter found that he could fight it off easier now. Nothing like a bit of danger to help keep a person alert. But it wasn’t him being in danger that he was worried about. Because the gun wasn’t pointed at him. But his brain was telling him that he hadn’t come here alone. Dean had been here with his family. So this bitch must be threatening one or more of them.

He forced his cold, numb fingers to delve into his pocket and he felt around for his pocket knife. His hand brushed against something and he couldn’t quite tell what it was without full feeling in his fingers, but Dean was almost certain that he’d put only the knife in that pocket. Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, he extracted the weapon and trailed his index finger down the hilt until it brushed the button and released the blade. He felt an odd warm sensation on his palm and realized that he’d held it the wrong way and had just cut his own palm. Oh well, the numbness would keep the pain away.

He fumbled to turn the knife around, dropping it once and scrambling to pick it back up, then took a deep breath to try and gather some energy. Words were now reaching his ears and even though they sounded kind of far away, he was starting to make sense of them.

“Good. Now I want you to both stand completely still and…”

There was a response that Dean couldn’t make out, but it he recognized his mom’s voice.

Then the woman responded. “Well, you can either face that thing, or I can just shoot you now. It really doesn’t matter to me.” 

Well, it mattered to Dean. Because this chick wasn’t going to hurt his mom and he certainly wouldn’t let the creature get them either. So, with everything he had, the young hunter used his left elbow to push himself up and drove the blade of his pocket knife into the lady’s calf. She screamed and dropped the gun as she fell to one knee to grab at the bleeding wound. 

Dean dropped back to lie flat on the cold, hard ground, struggling to breathe. Yeah, that had taken every ounce of energy he’d had. Which sucked because the chick had stopped her hysterics and had now turned on him. She wrapped her hands around his neck and Dean tried to pry them off but his fingers were still numb and he was too damned weak to fight. 

But then his mom was there and grabbing the bitch and pulling her off. Dean lost sight of her for a moment but he heard a loud _crack_ and then the chick fell to the ground in a heap next to him. 

“Dean, are you alright?”

“C…c…cold.” He managed to get out.

“I know.” 

And then the warm thing was back on his upper body and he looked and saw that it was a coat. His mom’s coat. He tried to protest, knowing that it was cold and she’d probably need it, but found that he couldn’t get his voice to work again.

“I’ve gotta go help Bobby. Will you be okay?”

Dean managed to nod.

“Okay, I’ll be…”

Suddenly Bobby came tumbling into view, followed by the hideous looking creature that had almost killed Dean. The teenager wanted to get up and join the fight, but he could still barely feel his body, aside from the all-consuming cold.

His mom got up and ran past the older hunter and the monster, only to return a moment later; machete in hand. Bobby got back to his feet and met the bás head on. It moved in the blink of and eye, but the hunter still managed to slice it across its chest. The creature howled and swiped at Bobby. It might’ve gotten its hands on him and possibly killed him, except right at that moment the ugly monster’s head fell off. The thing fell to the ground, to reveal Dean’s mom standing behind it with her weapon covered in dark orange blood. 

She dropped the sharp object to the ground and rushed back to Dean.

“I’m here.”

Dean nodded. 

“Ya okay, boy?” Bobby asked crouching down next to them.

The young hunter nodded again. “Y…yes.”

“Mary! Oh God! What happened?” That was his dad’s voice.

“I’ll fill you in when we get home.” His mom responded, not taking her eyes off of him. “We need to get Dean warm.”

Yeah. That sounded good. 

“Up.” Dean insisted.

“No, we’ll carry you. Just stay put.”

Dean shook his head. “P… pr…prom…mised S…Sammy I’d w…w…walk in.”

His mom pulled him up into a seated position and held him tightly. “He’ll be asleep when we get there, Dean. He won’t know.”

“I w…will.” He’d promised the kid and he wasn’t going to break that promise. Even if it meant collapsing on the floor moments after entering, Dean was going to walk into the house on his own two feet.

“I’ll assist him.” Cas offered.

“Th…thanks.” Dean shivered. 

The angel pulled him to his feet supporting most of his weight since Dean was still weak and couldn’t feel most of his body. Soon they’d be home and all of this would be over. Couldn’t be soon enough for him.


	195. Get Better

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Five: Get Better

It was almost four o’clock in the morning and Sam was going nuts. He’d gone to bed on time, just like his mom had asked him to, and had fallen asleep after a bit of lying in bed and worrying. But then his watch alarm that he’d set earlier had woken him and the boy had been awake ever since, anxiously awaiting his family. Really, how long did it take to apprehend a loser that was conjuring a creature and then track down and kill said creature? Okay, probably a while. Still, Sam was hoping that Dean and their parents would get home soon.

He flipped the page in his book, even though he’d barely comprehended the words on the previous one. And reading by flashlight was bugging his eyes. But he didn’t want to get out of bed to do anything and risk making any noises that would wake Anderson. Sam doubted that the cop would object to him staying up to make certain that his family made it back alright, but he’d gotten the guy in trouble last time when he’d disobeyed the ‘bedtime rule’ and figured that this way Anderson wouldn’t be an accomplice.

Sam yawned and started to wonder if he’d lose the battle with sleep when he heard a commotion downstairs. They were back.

The boy slipped out of bed and was trying to decide if he should walk down rubbing at his eyes and pretend that he’d just been woken up, but then he heard the sound of footsteps clattering up the stairs. Sam crept up to his door and peered through. A second later, his family came into view. First he saw his mom, walking backwards and gesturing frantically. The boy could see that her left sleeve was torn up and bloody. It really didn’t look _that_ bad though. 

But then she turned to go in the bathroom and Sam got a look at Dean. The older Winchester boy was being supported by Cas and was barley shuffling his feet to walk. His skin was colorless and his lips tinged blue, and he was visibly shaking. After a couple more steps, the teen stumbled and Cas picked him up off the ground. Dean shook his head in protest, but the angel didn’t respond. Behind them, Sam caught a glimpse of his dad, holding a piece of blood soaked cloth to his jaw, but he’d already pushed open his door and entered the hall by that point. 

“Dean!”

Their dad turned held up a hand. “He’s alright, Sam. We need to warm him up quickly, though.”

Sam followed the group into the bathroom, where his mom was filling the tub with warm water. Steam rose up and started to circle the room. The boy tried to get close to his big brother. 

When he got to the side of the tub, Dean had been stripped down to his boxers and was being lowered into the water. The teen was shaking terribly. 

“What happened?” Sam asked. “It’s cold outside but I didn’t think it was _that_ cold.” Besides, his parents weren’t in that condition and his mom was wearing fewer layers than Dean, since her jacket was missing for some reason.

“The bás touched him.” Sam’s mom explained. 

“What? But that could kill…”

“It wasn’t at full power.” She continued. “And I believe it wanted to keep him alive to be used as a sacrifice.”

“So… he’s going to be okay?” Because Dean sure as hell didn’t look okay. He looked a bit like a corpse.

“I’ll b…be f…f…fine, S…Sammy.” Dean managed to get out through chattering teeth. He slid his long body down to be covered completely by the water which was now almost completely filling the tub.

“We don’t know exactly what it did to him.” Their mom admitted. “But he seems unharmed except for a dangerously low body temperature.”

Sam nodded and turned to face his parents. “What about you guys?”

“I got scratched by the creature, but it’s not deep. I just need to get it wrapped up. John? What happened to you? Was there a different creature there?”

Sam’s dad nodded. “Yeah, a black-eyed one.”

“A demon?” Sam questioned. Oh, crap. That wasn’t good at all.

“Yes.” Cas confirmed, as Sam’s mom went to get a look at her husband’s wound. “The two people that conjured the tagann-bás-do-gach had help from a demon.”

Sam’s mom nodded. “Yeah, the guy told us that much.”

“The demon we encountered there was Meg.”

“What?” Dean sat up straight, and then shook violently as his wet skin made contact with the air. He slid back into the warm water. “M…Meg? You s…sure?”

“Yes.” Cas answered.

“What did she want?” Their mom asked.

“She wouldn’t say, but I believe her goals are still tied to freeing Lucifer.”

“Who’s Meg?” Sam wanted to know.

“A demon we encountered in the first timeline.” Cas replied. “And she is the daughter of Azazel and confronted us the morning after we killed her father this time around.”

“Oh.” Sam tried hard to think back to his trip through Dean’s memories to see if he should know her. He’d have to ask Dean later, when his parents weren’t around. The brothers still hadn’t gotten around to letting them in on the fact that Sam had experienced any of that, so it had to be a conversation for later. Besides, Dean didn’t look like he was up for talking just yet.

Obviously, that sentiment was shared by his parents. “We’ll talk more about what this could mean tomorrow. For now, we need to call the police about those two assholes in the cemetery and then we all need some rest.” His dad suggested, and then was smacked by his wife for talking while she was trying to stitch up his jaw. Which was probably difficult enough with him sitting on the closed toilet seat and her bending down next to him, and attempting to do the job with one of her arms injured.

Sam hovered nearby, concerned about his family. He was learning that there was no such thing as an easy hunt. 

By the time that his dad’s wound was sewn shut and his mom’s arm was bandaged, Dean had fallen asleep and was only being held up from going under the water by one of Cas’s hands firmly grasping his shoulder. But the water was getting cooler and the teenager’s body was starting to shake violently again, so Sam was sent to his older brother’s room to get a pair dry boxers, warm pajamas, and a bathrobe. 

When he got back, Dean was sitting on the toilet seat, wrapped up in towels and sort of awake. Sam handed the clothes over and then turned around to give his brother some privacy. 

Soon they were in Dean’s room, burying the young hunter under a ton of blankets. Sam’s big brother was still shivering a bit, so the younger boy climbed into the bed with him and held him tight. Body heat was supposed to be really good at warming people up. And yeah, okay, he was small, but he could still help a bit.

Sam was startled by how cold Dean’s skin was even after the warm bath and all the layers they’d covered him up with. But hopefully that would change soon.

“You’re gonna be okay, Dean.” He whispered after everyone else had left.

“Yep.”

“But you gotta stop getting hurt.”

“K…kept my p…p…promise.”

“What?”

“W…walked in on m…my own t…two f…f…feet.” Dean stammered.

Sam wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “I appreciate that, Dean, but next time you’re hurt, don’t push yourself on my account. Okay?”

Dean just shrugged. “G…good n…night S…s…sam…my.”

Sam held his brother tighter, glad to have him back alive. “Goodnight, Dean.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Carrying her backpack over one shoulder, Emily walked up to the Winchesters’ front door and knocked. She was a bit tired after a long week of classes but didn’t mind stopping by to drop off the notes that her friend needed. He’d been out all week due to ‘illness’. The girl was certain that she was going to go in to find him bandaged up and all bruised from some hunt or another. She knew for a fact that he’d been working on something prior to his absence.

The door opened and Sam looked up at her.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Sam. I have some notes from Dean’s classes. I copied them from some of his classmates.”

The boy smiled. “Great. That’ll be a big help.” He moved aside so that she could step in the house and out of the cold. “Dean’s upstairs. He was awake when I checked on him a little while ago.”

“So what happened to him? I mean, what injuries does he have?” All she could think of was the wounds that he’d had over the summer after his family had rescued him from the demons. God, she never wanted him to be that injured again. 

Sam gave her a confused look. “Didn’t my mom tell you that he had pneumonia?”

“Well yeah, but I figured that that was the cover story for why he was out of school.”

“Nope, that’s what’s really wrong with him. Really bad case of it too.”

“Wow.” Emily shook her head. “Dean Winchester, being struck down by a regular illness. Who could’ve seen that coming?”

“If it makes you feel any better, he contracted it on a hunt when a creature attacked him and did something to him that lowered his body temperature. And he’d been out in the snow for hours even before that. So yeah…”

Emily sighed. “Only Dean.”

“He’s getting better, though.” Sam mentioned. “Anyway, you should get that stuff to him now.”

She nodded. “Thanks.” 

Emily heard talking in the kitchen, but ignored it as she headed up the stairs. She’d stop by and say a quick ‘hi’ to Mr. and Mrs. Winchester later. Right now, she just wanted to check on Dean.

She was right outside his door when Emily heard a long, awful sounding cough come from inside the room. Wincing in sympathy, she let herself in.

“Hey, Dean.”

The boy looked up from where he was hunched over on his bed, still clutching at his chest from his choking fit. His face was pale, with splotches of red on his cheeks and his hair was matted with sweat.

Dean waved at her half-heartedly.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” She informed him. “It seems like half our relationship is built on you being hurt.”

Dean grinned. “Well, that _is_ how we had our first conversation.” His voice sounded very painful.

She laughed. “Yeah, but we’re long past the days of me walking you to the nurse’s office, so you can stop this now.”

“Would if I could.”

She doubted that, as it would mean that her friend would have to stop hunting. And since he’d been doing it all his life and considered it his mission to save the entire world or something, that wasn’t likely to ever happen. 

“Well, since you can’t keep yourself out of trouble and have now missed a week’s worth of classes; I come baring gifts.”

“Pie?”

“You wish.” She pulled the folder out of her bag and tossed it on his lap. “Notes and classwork.”

Dean made a face. “Damn… I think I feel more sick now.”

Emily rolled her eyes at him. “I also brought you a bag of M&Ms, but I’m not sure now if you’ll be able to swallow them.”

His eyes lit up. “Dude, hand them over. I’ll freakin’ let them melt in my mouth and drink the chocolate if I have to, but I’m so sick of chicken soup that I just _have_ to have those.”

She snorted a short laugh as she flopped down to sit at the edge of his bed and dug the bag of candy out. As Emily handed it over to him, she noticed that he’d been working on something prior to her entering his room.

“What’s that?” She gestured to his notebook.

Dean coughed into his hand and then looked down at his own writing. “Just something I was trying to figure out.”

“Work related?”

“Yeah. A demon that popped up after being awol for years.” He coughed again. “I’m figuring she was kept low profile because there were big hitters taking the lead, but maybe now she’s closer to the top. I mean, I never figured her for being that strong, but she was the daughter of a powerful demon, so with a lack of leadership down there, who knows what could be going on.” He ran his fingers through his damp, spiky hair. “I need to talk with Crowley. But _I_ don’t want to be the one to approach _him_ because if he thinks that I’m desperate for info, it’ll put him in the position of power.”

“So you’re trying to piece this all together yourself?”

“With Cas. We have some info on her. But it may not even be relevant anymore.”

“You think she’s a real threat?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, she’s not Alastair level crap, but she can cause problems when she wants.”

Emily could hear that his voice was wearing out and see that he was growing tired. “Well, I’m sure you’ll kick her butt.” She started clearing up his notes.

“Hey, I was…” He was cut off by another choking fit. 

Emily rubbed his back until it subsided. “You were working too hard when you should’ve been resting up and getting better. There will still be demons on earth and in Hell when your pneumonia is cleared up.”

Dean smiled at her tiredly. “Can I shove my schoolwork to the side too?”

“For today? Yeah.” 

He lied back onto his pillows and Emily pulled the covers over his body. She placed a kiss on his too warm forehead and turned to leave.

“Thanks.” He called to her.

“Just get better. And don’t let me hear from your brother that you made yourself worse by overworking.”

“Okay, I’ll bribe him into keeping his mouth shut.”

Emily chuckled. “He loves you too much to fall for that.” She turned off the lights to his room. “Sleep well, Dean.”

Then Emily left her friend to rest and hopefully get better soon.


	196. Cat and Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you all know, my computer is possessed by demons... and lost about half of my chapter! Stupid demonic computer... But I rewrote it and can now post. Sigh. Anyway, I'm going to try and figure out how to perform an exorcism on tech so this doesn't ever happen again.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Six: Cat and Mouse 

Dean kept a firm hold of the woman’s hand as he ran headlong through the dense forest. The branches smacked at his face and tore at his clothes, but the young hunter paid them no mind. Really, what were some scratches and a ripped jacket compared to what the thing closing in behind them could do if it caught up. Not that Dean was going to let that happen. 

The only thing that Dean was really hoping for was that he was headed in the right direction. He didn’t exactly have time to stop and pull out his trail map to check the directions. But he trusted his memory.

“Wha… what is that thing?” The young woman gasped out, fear evident in her voice.

“Not a hundred percent sure.” Dean admitted. The notes in his dad’s journal weren’t too clear. It seemed that neither his father or Caleb had identified the creature the first time around. Hell, his dad had never even come face to face with it. But they _had_ figured out that it couldn’t walk through water, it feared fire, and silver bullets could kill it. So that was good enough.

“Can we outrun it?”

“Not for long. But we don’t have to. There’s water up ahead. That’ll buy us enough space for me to be able to get the upper hand and shoot the damned thing.” It was far too close for Dean to risk trying to turn around to kill it until they could put some distance between it and them.

“Oh god, I’m going to die!”

“Hey! I won’t let you die, okay? Just keep your head.” The hunter hoped that he could make good on that. 

Just then, Dean saw a wide and fast moving stream up ahead of them. He took off even faster, dragging the young woman with him. She stumbled a bit, but he didn’t let her fall. The teen could hear the footsteps of the creature right behind him. 

Then Dean was in the water. It was chilly and he almost lost his balance between the current and the slippery rocks. He was glad for the warm summer weather as his pants got soaked to just above his knees. He’d made it to the halfway point before turning around. 

There it was. The creature that had been pursuing them. It was a large, sleek, black cat and it was prowling back and forth in front of the edge of the water, practically snarling at them. Its tail twitched in irritation and it opened its mouth and let out a yowl.

“Bad kitty.” Dean scolded. He aimed his weapon and went to pull the trigger when the cat vanished. What the… _that_ hadn’t been recorded in the journal!

“Where did it go?”

“Not sure.” Dean admitted. “Let’s get to dry ground. But we’ll stay by the water just in case we need to retreat again.”

They both made their way across the stream carefully. Dean kept an eye out for anything moving nearby.

“It can’t get to us now, right?”

“Well, not for a while. The nearest place that it can cross the stream without actually getting in the water is…” 

Dean was cut off as the large cat appeared right near them. The woman shrieked in terror. The hunter turned his handgun on the creature and pulled the trigger. He shot it twice in its face with the silver ammo. The bullets passed right through, causing the cat no harm at all.

The teenager was knocked down as the creature pounced on him. His gun was knocked out of his hand (big freakin’ deal… it had been useless anyway). The black cat lowered its head and Dean smelled its hot, rancid breath. Then it straightened up and raised a massive paw to deliver what would most likely be a fatal blow.

“Run!” Dean yelled to the woman. “Stay in the water and run!”

The creature stopped. It cocked its head to the side, then looked from Dean to the young woman. A moment later, the huge cat backed off of the hunter.

Dean scrambled to his feet. The creature stepped up close and the hunter reached automatically for a weapon. But the large cat simply rubbed up against him, nearly knocking him over, and then disappeared.

“What just happened?” The woman asked hysterically.

“I have no clue.” Dean shrugged as he tried to get his heart rate back under control.

“Okay, well, you seem to know a hell of a lot more about what’s going on than I do! Because you’re the one that was telling me that I had to get out of the woods and then grabbed me when we heard that growling and then was saying it couldn’t cross the water and… and you shot at it! You have a gun! Holy crap! Why do you have a gun? There’s no hunting in these woods right now and even if there was, no one hunts with a handgun! What are you? Some crazy serial killer or something?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yep, I’m a crazy-ass serial killer that just happened to try and save your life from a giant cat-thing that disappeared into thin air. Makes total sense.”

The young woman seemed to think that over. “Well, that cat only tried to kill you.”

“True. Something to think about. Along with the fact that it isn’t the thing that I came here to save you from.”

“What?”

Dean sighed. “Introductions. Dean. Hi. My family and I came here because a creature is killing and eating hikers. But the thing we just saw doesn’t fit the description.”

“Wait, you mean that there’s more than one freaky monster in these woods?”

“Yeah. Not common, but it does happen.”

“Okay… well, my name’s Penny. And apparently I’m monster chow.”

Dean shook his head. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“You said your family was here too? Where are they?”

“Well, when we got here, my dad questioned the park rangers and found out that there were four groups of hikers registered to be out here. Well, two groups and two single hikers. Anyway, we split up to get you all out safe and we were planning to come back afterwards as a team to gank this thing.”

“So you’re by yourself?”

“For now. But don’t worry, I’ve got more experience at this kind of thing than you’d think.”

Penny nodded, but still seemed unsure. Dean didn’t know if it was because of the bizarre circumstances or because he was seventeen. Either way, he was her only hope at getting out of this alive. 

They started off, following the stream but heading in the direction that paralleled the path that would eventually take them back out of the woods. Even though some complications had unexpectedly popped up, Dean’s mission was still to get the civilian out of harm’s way. And if he could join back up with his parents and Cas before running back into that cat creature or meeting up with the thing that they’d come to hunt, all the better. 

After a few minutes, Penny broke the silence. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re obviously too young to be a cop or forest service or anything…”

“Obviously.”

“So… why are you out here risking your life to save some hikers?”

“I save people. It’s my thing.” Dean shrugged. He really didn’t feel like giving out his life story to a woman he didn’t know.

“Oh. You should probably find a safer hobby.”

Dean laughed. “You’re not the first person to think I’m nuts for doing this.”

“Well, I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful or anything, but…”

“Shhhh” Dean shushed her. To her credit, she shut up immediately. Listening closely, Dean could hear something coming towards them from within the dense trees.

“What is it?” Penny whispered.

“Get into the water.” Dean ordered.

The woman hurried to follow his instructions. The young hunter made certain that she was safe and then turned his gaze to the surrounding woods. And saw nothing. There wasn’t a trace of anything… then Dean saw a rustling in the bushes just seconds before the creature jumped out.

It was a completely different thing than the cat he’d encountered earlier and this monster made Dean almost freeze in terror. Because it looked almost exactly like a hellhound. Except of course for the fact that he could clearly see it. And judging by Penny’s shriek, so could she. He was quite certain that he hadn’t sold his soul, and the woman with him most likely hadn’t either, so this couldn’t be one of the demon’s soul collectors. But then… Then the pieces started to click together. A large ugly-ass, canine-like creature that couldn’t cross moving water, was repelled by fire, and could only be killed by silver. A devil-dog. And not the snack cake… those were delicious. Dean had never encountered one himself, but he’d heard legends of them and knew that they were fast and ferocious. 

The hunter quickly aimed his gun and pulled the trigger. But the devil-dog was fast and dodged at the last second. The bullet tore through its left ear, causing the creature to let out a yelp and then a long, dangerous growl. Dean shot at it twice more, but it was on the move and back in the bushes before the teen could tag it again.

“Damn!”

“Is it gone?”

“Stay there. It won’t leave without winning this. These things never walk away from a hunt.” Dean called back. Then in a lower voice he added. “Then again, neither do I.”

The hunter scoped the area, but nothing stirred. He walked to the bushes and poked at them with his weapon. Still nothing. After about five minutes of that, he shrugged and turned back to Penny. 

“Let’s continue. Stay in the water, though.”

She took a few steps, and then slipped and went down.

“I can’t walk like this, Dean. I’m going against the current and these rocks are too slick. I’m going to just keep losing my footing.”

Dean looked around again. He didn’t like the idea of her leaving the safety of the water, but if she fell in there and got injured, it would hurt their chances of getting out of these woods in one piece. 

“Okay then. Come out. But stay close to the stream. And no talking. We gotta stay on guard.”

She nodded and waded out of the water. 

The two of them continued on for a while with no complications. But Dean knew that that wouldn’t last. And he was right. 

They were at a point where the stream wound around a large boulder and they had to split off from it to go around, when Dean heard the rustling again. Without even thinking, he grasped Penny’s wrist.

“Run!” He pulled her forward and then released her, giving her a small push to get her moving faster. The young hunter looked around to see if he could spot the devil-dog.

And he did. The creature was charging out of the dense trees, and aiming straight for Penny.


	197. Devil-Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think most of my computer issues are fixed, so I should get back on track now.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Seven: Devil-Dog 

Dean watched as the creature leaped at the helpless young woman. He aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger. His shot hit the beast, but it only managed to slow it. The devil-dog landed with a grunt and started towards Penny once more. The hunter went to shoot it again, but then suddenly the large, black cat from before appeared and pounced on the vicious canine. 

The teenager watched with wide eyes as the feline tore into the smaller monster. The devil-dog tried to fight back, but the cat creature had the upper hand. Well, the upper paw. And that paw came complete with razor sharp claws. And watching those claws rip into the mutt, Dean felt extremely grateful that the cat hadn’t done the same to him earlier.

Penny took the opportunity to flee. She darted away from the creatures’ confrontation and ran around the huge boulder. Dean heard her slash into the water just moments later. She was safe.

Unfortunately, right after that, the cat-thing looked up from its fight and then disappeared. Okay… well, it seemed like that thing was just around to protect the woman. Weird. And entirely unhelpful to Dean as the now wounded and completely pissed-off devil-dog struggled to its feet and turned its attention to the hunter. Oh crap.

Dean turned his weapon on the beast and got exactly one (non-lethal) shot into the thing before it pounced on him. The hunter groaned at the canine’s weight. The devil-dog clamped its teeth around Dean’s gun and ripped the pistol right from his hands; then using its powerful jaw to pulverize the weapon. Damn. Well, at least it was just the gun that was now gone and not a limb. The power of positive thinking, right?

The young hunter used his right hand to reach up and hold the creature by its throat to keep its mouth away from him. Then he darted his left hand to where he’d strapped a silver knife into his holster before leaving for this hunt. After all, two weapons were always better than one. 

The devil-dog used all its strength to push against Dean’s grip and its teeth grazed his check. But the teen wasted no time to plunge the knife deep into its belly. 

 

The monster yelped and rolled off of Dean. The hunter scrambled to his feet, knife still in hand, and went to attack the creature again. But the damned thing had refused to stay down. It was once again on its feet. 

Okay, time for a plan B. Or was he on plan C by now? 

Dean looked around and then turned his eyes skyward in an unspoken prayer. _This had better work_.

The hunter turned and scrambled up onto the large boulder. He heard claws scratching stone as the devil-dog followed him. When he got to the top, he spun around, placing his back to the stream and facing the creature that was trying to kill him. Dean held the knife out in front of him, as if ready for a confrontation. Both he and the devil-dog knew that if it rushed him now, the hunter wouldn’t stand a chance.

And the beast decided to bet on that. A moment later, it charged. Dean braced himself for the impact. When the creature leapt, the hunter dropped his knife and grabbed onto the devil-dog with both hands. Then he flung both of them off of the boulder and into the stream below.

The impact sucked. The water wasn’t deep enough to protect him completely from the fall and he still had a huge, freakin’ monster on top of him. Oh, and his head was completely under water and the teen had ended up accidently swallowing some of the liquid when he’d gone under. For a moment, Dean wondered if he’d drown.

But then the weight was gone. The hunter pushed up and flipped over onto his hands and knees, ignoring the various aches and pains. He coughed and sputtered as his head broke the surface. Dean looked around wildly and saw the devil-dog trying to make it back to the shore. 

But the creature didn’t stand a chance. The devil-dogs were forbidden from crossing running water. Dean watched with a sick sense of fascination as the fur and flesh started to melt off of the beast’s body. It let out a pitiful howl that turned into a wet gurgling noise as its insides began to liquefy. The canine’s entire face slid off its skull and splashed into the stream. The gooey muscles dripped off of the bones, which then cracked and broke. In just moments, nothing was left of the once viscous creature.

Dean went to step back as the red mess started to drift towards him, but then the bloody goo began to become lighter and lighter and by the time it brushed up against the hunter’s pants, it was indistinguishable from the rest of the water.

“Oh God, that was… Oh, God!” Penny sounded like she was just seconds away from hyperventilating and having a full blown panic attack. Not an unreasonable reaction. But also not helpful.

“Hey!” Dean’s voice was sharp, but not unkind. “It’s okay. It’s over.”

“What about the other one. The cat. Will… will it dissolve too?”

“Probably not. But I think it’s on our side. Well, on your side, anyways.”

“What?”

“It protected you. First, it attacked me before it realized that I was helping you. Then it went after the devil-dog when the mutt was trying to chow down on you. But it didn’t raise a paw to save _my_ life. It seems connected to you. Any ideas why?”

She looked at him like he was nuts. “What? No! You’re the expert.”

“Okay, true enough. But when I first found you out here, you told me that you ‘always come out here’ because you’re working on some paper for college. So, are there any stories or legends or…”

Penny shrugged. “My grandfather used to talk about spirit animals protecting my ancestors and stuff, but I always dismissed that as just old Native American legends.”

Dean looked the young woman over. “ _You’re_ Native American.”

She crossed her arms somewhat defensively. “Yeah.” 

He stared at her very blonde hair. “Uh huh. Like, what… one hundredth of a percent on your mother’s side?”

Penny made a face at him. “No, more like an eighth. On my father’s side. The blonde hair and pale skin is from my mom’s side.” She shook her head. “Anyway, the whole reason I come out to these woods is because my ancestors come from this area. That’s what my paper is about. _Not_ about some giant spirit cat.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put the spirit cat down. Freakin’ thing came in handy. You know, when it _wasn’t_ attacking the dude that was also trying to protect you.”

The woman glanced at the trees a bit nervously. “So… is it still around.”

Dean nodded. “Yep. But it most likely won’t show itself unless there’s something evil out here endangering your life. So, it’s not likely that you or anyone in your family will ever see it or its kind out here ever again.” At least, Dean was hoping that was the case. Because if the damn thing was going to show up and eat a future boyfriend of Penny’s that hurt her feelings or something like that, then he’d have to come back and try to figure out how to vanquish it.

“Okay… but it’s still going to be a bit weird to ever come back out here again.”

Dean shrugged. “Understandable. After all, this has probably been one of your stranger days.”

The young woman laughed, a bit hysterically. “Yeah…”

“So, let’s blow this pop stand, huh?”

Penny nodded.

Together, they made their way out of the stream and found the path that they’d originally been on before the crap had really hit the fan earlier. Even though Dean was tired and sore, he led the way back toward the parking area. 

They were probably only about a half a mile from exiting the woods when Dean saw his family coming towards them.

“A bit late to the party.” He announced.

“Are you alright?” His mom asked, concern lacing her voice.

“I’ll live.”

“Me too.” Penny added. “Thanks to your son. He saved my life.”

Dean’s mom smiled. “Well, he’s been known to do things like that.”

“I take it the creature is dead?” Cas questioned.

“As a doornail.” Dean confirmed. “You know, if doornails were actually dead. Instead of just being lame-ass inanimate objects.”

“What was it?” His dad wanted to know.

“Devil-dog.”

“The snack cake?” His father grinned.

“Yep, and it tasted awesome.”

Cas cocked his head to the side. “I don’t believe…”

“They’re joking.” Dean’s mom cut the angel off. “And no, I doubt that Dean defeated the creature by eating it.”

“Nope, but anyone who takes a drink from that stream in the near future might end up with stomach issues.” Dean commented. At their looks, he smiled. “A story for later.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam woke up with a start. For a moment he didn’t know what had disturbed his sleep. But then he heard the groan again. Dean.

The boy was off his bed and out of his room in seconds. Sam flew into Dean’s bedroom, praying that his big brother would be alright. What he found broke his heart a bit.

Dean was lying on his back, thrashing about, and making pathetic and very pained moaning noises. The teen’s hands came up to clutch at his chest. Sam looked at him and wondered why someone so wonderful always seemed to be suffering.

He went to his brother’s side and sat down on the bed.

“Dean…” Sam placed a hand gently on the older boy’s face. “Dean, come on, wake up. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he bolted up into a sitting position. He looked around wildly, his breathing uneven and ragged. “Wha… where?”

“You’re home, Dean. You were having a nightmare. Probably a memory one, by the look of it.”

Sam’s older brother locked his gaze with the younger boy. After a moment he seemed to calm. Then he nodded. 

“Yeah…”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No I…”

“Dean.”

The teen sighed. “Hellhounds, Sammy. I was dreaming about hellhounds. There, you happy?”

No. Not really. Because those things were terrible and had ripped Sam’s brother apart and had dragged his soul to Hell where Dean had been tortured for years. 

“Oh. What…”

“I came face to ugly ass face with a devil-dog today and the stupid thing looked almost exactly like a hellhound. And… and I almost froze, Sammy. I _did_ freeze for just a second. Could’ve gotten myself killed. But then I shook it off ‘cause it wasn’t really one of those bitches, but still… damn, I hate those things.”

“And you have every reason to. I mean… I saw, well, _almost saw_ what they did to you. I was in the room and saw you get pulled to the floor by something invisible and the demon girl was there and then… I turned and ran. I didn’t want to watch you die. So, I left that memory.”

“I’m glad.” Dean reached out and took his hand. “You had to watch me die in the original timeline and I don’t want you to carry that memory again.”

Sam heard something in his brother’s voice. “You can’t blame yourself, Dean.”

“I just…” He ran his hands through his hair. “There’s so damned much that I wish I could change.”

“And you are! I saw how stuff was supposed to turn out. And a lot is different. So, I’d say you’re doing a pretty awesome job.”

Dean half-smiled. “I’m sure _you_ would. But I’m starting to think that you’re biased.”

Sam grinned. “Of course I am. Because I know just how great you are. And I’m always gonna be on your side. So deal.”

Dean laughed. “Always?”

“Hey, I saw the scary crap in your head that you thought would chase me away, yet here I am. So yeah; always.”

Dean smiled. “Well, good. Because I’m always gonna be on your side. Even though you grow up to be a huge pain in the ass.”

“Hey!” Sam protested half-heartedly. Then he pushed his big brother backwards onto the mattress. “Get back to sleep, jerk.”

“I would, if you weren’t being such an annoying bitch.”

Sam flopped down next to him, understanding that Dean probably wouldn’t want to be alone yet, but would never ask for company. He tried to stay awake to make sure that his big brother didn’t fall right back into another nightmare, but sleep won out. His last thoughts he remembered were of how great it was that their fates had been changed from the terrible stuff that could’ve happened to them if the timeline had been left alone.


	198. The Truth Exposed

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Eight: The Truth Exposed 

John had been up for hours trying to think of exactly what to say to his boys but, as he heard them stomping down the stairs together that morning, he had to admit that he still had no clue even how to begin. The father really didn’t want this conversation to become a shouting match or a reenactment of the cold war, but he _was_ going to get some answers. 

He could tell that Mary’s eyes were on him, as they had been since his wife had gotten up and begun to prepare breakfast. But he hadn’t yet broached this topic with her. She’d hear about it soon enough.

Dean and Sam entered the room and dropped down into their chairs. Both immediately started to pile blueberry pancakes onto their plates. Three for Sam and… well, John lost count as Dean just grabbed a stack and deposited it in front of himself. The teen’s younger brother watched him with an amused grin, but said nothing.

“No bacon?” Dean called to the kitchen.

“You’ll need at least one of your arteries unclogged when you reach middle age.” His mom shot back. 

John’s oldest son shrugged. “Whatever.” Then, before their father could start in with his questions, Dean looked to him. “So, where’s Cas?”

Damn. He’d noticed. Of course he had. “Cas went to help Pastor Jim with something. He’ll be gone for at least the day.” At Dean’s questioning look, he continued. “I called Jim this morning and he was still stuck on that project he’d been working on since two weeks ago. I figured Cas might be able to lend a hand. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Dean nodded. 

It was true enough. But John had actually called that morning hoping that there would be an excuse to get the angel out of the house. There would be enough for him to contend with when Dean and Sam backed each other up with whatever was going on; John really didn’t need Cas taking their side as well. And there was no doubt in his mind that the angel would side with Dean. He always did. 

John opened his mouth but then suddenly Dean tensed up and looked behind himself nervously. The teenager’s hand seemed to shake momentarily, before he placed his fork and knife down and gripped the edge of the table.

“You okay, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean’s head whipped back around to face the table, and his breakfast, once again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

John had a feeling there was more to it than that, but couldn’t pass up the opening. “Speaking of you not sleeping last night, I was up in the middle of the night and walked by your room, Dean. I heard the two of you talking.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I said that I couldn’t sleep. Dork-boy here must’ve heard me and came in to check. We talked for a bit. Not a big deal.”

“I’m not a dork.” Sam lightly punched Dean’s arm.

“Boys!” John’s voice came out a bit harsh and he knew it. “I heard some things that I want an explanation for. A real explanation. Sam, why were you talking about seeing Dean being attacked by hellhounds and being in a memory of his. What does any of that mean?”

“Uh, I just meant that he told me about…”

“Bull!” John shouted. “That’s a crap answer and you know it. No more lies! I also heard you tell Dean that you _saw_ how things were supposed to turn out and that you _saw_ all the ‘scary crap’ in his head. I heard every damned word the two of you said to each other! So don’t you dare lie to me!”

Sam looked down, but Dean pushed his chair back from the table and stood.

“Oh, so you were spying on us?”

“No! I was walking by and…”

“And then you would’ve heard one or two words. Unless it takes you five whole minutes to walk past my door! But no, you heard us talking and decided to eavesdrop on our private conversation.”

“Well, that seems to be the only way I’m ever going to get actual answers around here!” John shot back.

“Because when you get your ‘actual answers’ you decide to yell in your son’s face about them!” Dean pointed down at Sam. “That’s why we haven’t mentioned anything about this. Because when I got back after everything that had happened, you and Sam were just one argument away from being at each other’s throats. So, I decided it was best for everyone if this remained between Sam and me.”

“ _You_ don’t make decisions for this family, Dean! I know that you seem to think you do. You have for years, but that job is mine! And… damn, it! This has to do with when you were captured?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Gabriel didn’t just _tell_ Sam the truth. He showed it to Sam. Took him into my memories.”

“Why the hell would he even do that?!” John screamed. “That’s just… that’s no place for Sam! That could’ve scarred him for life.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You think I don’t know how screwed up I am?”

“Hey, leave Dean alone!” Sam snapped, rising to stand next to Dean. “It was necessary. Dean was tortured so bad that he was trapped in his own head and I had to help get him out.”

“What?” John shook his head. “That doesn’t…”

“And you don’t know anything about what’s in his head. You don’t know the first thing about him! You weren’t there!” Sam laughed, somewhat dismissively. “Heck, you weren’t in most of his memories because the other you abandoned him.”

“That’s _not_ my fault!” John protested. 

“Only because of Dean changing things.” Sam stated. “So think about that before you lose your temper and start screaming at him.”

“I’m his father and I’ll scream at him if I want to! Especially when I discover that my sons have been keeping secrets from me.”

“Well, it’s not a secret anymore.” His youngest pointed out. “So…”

“ _That’s_ not.” John turned to Dean. “But _you_ … _you_ still have plenty. Unless you shared those with your little brother too.” Dean jumped, looking around himself nervously and then turning back to face John. The father knew that there was something troubling his son, but he was on too much of a roll to stop and find out what was going on. “So, you want to come clean now? Tell us what you’ve been hiding all these years? What this big secret of yours is about your destiny? Something to do with your time in Hell and the whole Righteous Man thing?”

“John…” Mary’s warning tone broke in, but he ignored it.

“Drop it, Dad.” Dean’s voice had a dangerous edge to it.

“You don’t order me around, boy.” John turned to Sam. “Or maybe I’m asking the wrong son. You were in his head, Sam. What’s he keeping from the rest of us?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “That you put him through hell on his fifth birthday when he was so emotionally distraught over Mom’s death that he was practically mute. That he had to steal food so that we didn’t starve to death because you didn’t leave us with enough to eat when you left us for weeks to go out hunting. Those the answers that you’re looking for?”

John came around the table to glare down at his son. “You watch your mouth. _I_ didn’t do any of that. And don’t start the whole ‘it’s because Dean saved us all’ line. I know what he’s done for this family. I also know he’s keeping stuff from us. So, since you’re so damned close to your big brother, why don’t you tell me what the hell it is that he’s hiding. If he’s such a frickin’ saint, then it can’t be that bad, now can it?”

“You don’t get to talk about Dean like that! He’s a better man than you’ll ever be!”

“Then why is he hiding secrets? Why is he having his thirteen year old brother cover for him?”

“Why don’t you just leave him alone?”

“Why?” John grabbed Sam’s shoulders. “You boys think you can keep secrets and tell lies to me? Well, you can’t. Now tell me, Sam! What are you and Dean hiding?!”

“He doesn’t know, Dad!” Dean yelled. “Leave him the hell alone!”

“Like I believe a word you say.” John retorted. “You two are up at night whispering about your little secrets and now expect me to believe that Sam knows nothing about this?”

“Dad…”

“Well, someone is going to tell me and if you’ve been lying to me for thirteen years now, maybe I have to try a different angle. So, tell me Sam. What is your brother hiding?” He leaned in close to the young boy.

Suddenly, John was pushed back and away from Sam and Dean was up and in his face.

“You want to know my secret, Dad? You really want to know?” In that moment, looking into his son’s eyes, John almost wanted to tell him ‘no’. “I was tortured in Hell for thirty years. And then I broke. I took a deal that I never, _never_ should’ve taken. Alastair offered me his blade and I got off the rack and I took his place as the torturer. I was a monster, Dad. _That_ is that big damned destiny of the ‘Righteous Man’. To spill blood in hell. To become almost demonic myself. Hell, had Cas not gotten me out of there, I would’ve been a demon.” There were tears in Dean’s eyes and anguish painted all over his face. John stepped back and away from him. “You want to hear more, Dad? You want to know more about what a terrible failure and disappointment I am? You want more reason to hate me?”

“Why?” John shook his head. “Why would you do such a thing?”

Dean let out a bitter laugh. “Because I’m a weak, pathetic mess. Why the hell do you think?”

“That’s not true!” Sam protested. “Dean, I was there. In that Hell memory. You led me out of there. I don’t care what you say, what happened after that, you were strong.”

“Sam…”

“No, Dean. Thirty years? You lasted through _that_ kind of torture for thirty years? You can’t possibly blame yourself for…”

“I do!” Dean ran his hands through his hair frantically. 

“Then why did you do it?” John wanted to know. He tried to picture his son torturing people in Hell and found the whole idea repulsive. 

“To make it stop! To make it all stop! The pain, the fear, the constant… damn it, Dad. Alastair was in my head and it got to the point where I didn’t even know what was real anymore. Sometimes it was you or Sam with me there and the stuff that was being said and done to me was just… oh God…” Dean threw his hands up in the air. “I just… it got to the point where I couldn’t take it anymore. So I said yes.” He laughed humorlessly. “And I know you’re disgusted by me now. Why do you think I didn’t want to tell you?”

“So being a liar on top of a torturer makes you a better person?” Damn his temper. Yeah, this was all a bit much to take in, but the flash of hurt that he saw on Dean’s face when those words left his mouth made John feel like an ass. 

“Never pretended to be a good person. I know what I am.”

Sam was at his brother’s side in an instant. “Don’t say that, Dean. Look at all the good you’ve done. Just because Dad can’t see that doesn’t mean…”

“Don’t you dare put Dean’s mistakes on me!” John shouted.

“And don’t you crucify Dean for breaking after thirty years of torture! Heck, you act like an ass after five minutes of a conversation that you don’t like!”

“Go to your room!”

“I’m staying with Dean.”

“I want him in his room, too! I just… I can’t even look at him right now.” And it was true. There were just too many conflicting emotions going through his head concerning the recent revelations.

Dean’s looked like he’d been slapped and then he tightened his jaw. “Well, don’t worry about it. I’m gone.”

With that, John’s first born son turned and took off out of the house. Sam went to follow, but Mary reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Let him go.” She advised.

“But Mom, he needs me.”

“Stay away from him.” John ordered. “He’s upset right now and I don’t want you near him. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Dean would never hurt me!” Sam protested.

“We don’t know that. After today, we don’t know what he’s capable of.”

Sam shook his head. “Dad, he’s still the same person he’s always been! Just because we found out all that he’s had to go through doesn’t mean…”

“You heard what he did, Sam.”

“Yeah, and I was in one of his Hell memories, Dad! I didn’t look, because Dean warned me not to. Because he didn’t want me to have to carry that with me, but I… I heard his screams and I smelled the blood and when he took me hand… it was mangled and missing a finger and Dean could barley walk. Yet the memory-Dean still found the strength to lead me out of there. Because he loves me and he cares about other people more than himself. _That’s_ Dean. Not the broken one that was forced to do stuff he obviously hates himself for doing!”

It was John’s turn to shake his head. “You weren’t really there though, Sam. No one but Dean was. And I just… Just go to your room. We’ll talk about this later.”

“If something happens to Dean, or if he never comes home again, I’ll hate you forever!” Sam screamed at him and then spun around and ran up the stairs.

John wanted to yell something up after him, but words failed him. So instead, he slammed his fist down on the table.

“John…”

“Don’t!” He snapped at Mary. “If you’re going to take their side and say I lost my temper, I don’t want to hear it! Our own kids are keeping secrets under our roof. Dean… I don’t even know who he is anymore. Maybe I never did. And now Sam’s all up my ass _again_. So, no; I’m not looking for another fight.”

His wife crossed her arms as tear welled up in her eyes. “You think I want more shouting? No… and I’m not looking to take sides against you. I don’t even know what to think about any of this. Sam seeing Dean’s past, Dean’s actions in Hell, all of it is all just…”

“Too much.” John completed the thought.

“Yeah. But think of how much it has to seem like for our boys too. I think we’re all in shock.”

“Maybe Sam is… but Dean, he’s been like this for years. Since before we ‘met’ him. I just, I don’t know what to even think, Mary.”

“I really don’t either, John. But we need to think it through before we rush to judgment. Or this could tear our family apart more than any demons ever have.”


	199. A Friend in Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Updating a day early! AND after the responses I got for the last chapter, I decided NOT to go ahead with my plan to write the John Winchester Guide to Good Parenting :(

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Nine: A Friend in Need 

Emily was thankful for the slight drizzle that kept all the little kids out of the playground as she entered through the gate and started walking towards the jungle-gym. Sure being out here when everything was wet wasn’t so great, and her clothes were already completely soaked through, but at least her and Dean would be alone. Because she knew even before she approached the colorful plastic plaything that had seemed so huge when they were younger, that her friend just had to be hiding out in there.

Of course coming out to the playground hadn’t been in her plans for the day, but when Sam had called her and had sounded so frantic and desperate, she’d had no choice. The boy sounded like he was practically crying as he told her that their dad had screamed at Dean and upset him to the point where the older Winchester had fled the house. Sam had been forbidden from going after his brother but would’ve disobeyed anyways if he wasn’t being watched closely and if he even knew where to start looking. But Emily knew where Dean would be. The two of them had had their own private ‘thinking spot’ for years. So she’d promised Sam that she’d go to Dean immediately and look after him and he’d hung up his phone before his father had caught him on it. She wasn’t sure what was going on over there, but she didn’t want the boy getting in any trouble. 

And speaking of trouble, she wondered just what her friend had gotten himself into. Dean hadn’t used this spot to escape from his family since that fateful night just after that awful Halloween. Sure, she imagined that his family wasn’t all a bed of roses, but for him and his dad to have it out _this_ bad…

“Dean?” She called up to him as she approached the jungle-gym. She could see him huddled in the back with his knees drawn up and his body hunched over. His elbows were propped up on his knees and his hands were running through his hair continually.

“Please… stop.”

Okay… that was concerning. “Dean, it’s Emily. Can I come up?”

He raised his head and she could tell that he’d been crying. But the most disconcerting thing was how unfocused his eyes were at first. His gaze darted back and forth nervously for a moment before finally settling on her.

“Emily?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“Sam was worried about you. He asked me to come and check on you. Can I come up?”

“What? Oh, yeah… sure.”

Emily took the kiddie ladder in two steps and crawled over to sit down right in front of her friend. He appeared uninjured, but still looked terrible. His eyes were red-rimmed and the lids were slightly puffy. Dean’s hair was wet and sticking up in various directions. He was shaking just a bit and Emily doubted that he was cold.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I… no, not really.” Dean hung his head.

“What’s wrong? Sam said that you got in a fight with your dad?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “He hates me. He has every reason to.”

“What? No. Dean, your parents love you and…”

He’d hung his head just a moment before but now it snapped back up. “Love me? No one loves me. Not really. Not once they get to know me, anyways. How can they after everything I’ve done. I’m a failure. A weak, stupid, pathetic failure.” He lashed out with his elbow, smashing it into the side of the jungle-gym. “And now they know. I finally told them. And they rejected me. Just like I knew they would. I was stupid to think they’d ever want me. No one would.”

“Well, Sam sure does. He’s scared to death for you.”

Dean bit his lip. “Yeah, well… he’s young. He’s got plenty of time to grow up and figure out that I’m not worth it.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” She reached out and placed her hand on his knee. “You’re my best friend, Dean. And you’re the best person I’ve ever known.”

“You only say that because you don’t know me.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been through this before. I _do_ know you. Maybe I haven’t seen whatever weird future stuff you’ve seen, but…”

Then Dean placed one of his hands over hers and shook his head. “No. _You don’t know me_.” Keeping his eyes right on hers, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flinched for a moment and then shook his head and blinked rapidly. Emily was about to ask if he was alright, but then the moment seemed to pass. Dean opened his wallet and pulled out a folded up, worn photo and handed it to her.

“What is this?” She asked. Something in her told her not to open it. That it would change everything.

“Me.”

Emily hesitated a moment longer before unfolding the photo and looking at it. In the picture, two young men stood near Dean’s Impala. The taller of the two had long shaggy brown hair that was obviously soaking wet and had turned to the camera while in the middle of trying to grab a mostly empty water bottle from the other man. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he’d gotten the water poured over his head and was now trying to get revenge. And the shorter of the two… was Dean. But he was older than the teenager that was sitting across from Emily now. Maybe about ten years or so older. But that was impossible. Unless…

“This… you got this from the future somehow. You really have been to your own future.”

“I’m _from_ my own future.”

“What?”

“I didn’t just see that moment. I lived it. It and many others that weren’t so happy. And then the world was ending, so Cas brought me back in time to 1983.”

Emily tried very hard to understand what her friend was saying. But it made no sense. “But… but no. Because you… you don’t look like this. And you were just a kid when I met you. And…”

“It was just my soul that Cas brought back. He put it in my younger body. And I grew up all over again.”

It was crazy. But so very true. Because Dean was never just a kid. Emily had always known that. Heck, that was one of the things that had attracted her to him even back then. Yet, he hadn’t been an adult back then, either. Because he’d been a bit childlike, too. So how _did_ this make sense?

“Wait… I don’t… so, you’ve been an adult since I met you?”

“Sort of.” Dean shrugged. “It’s far more complicated than that. My memories are grown up… the rest of me is the age you see. That’s the best explanation I can come up with.”

“Why are you telling me all this now?” 

He laughed a very bitter sounding laugh. “I’m tired of people liking me just because they think I’m something I’m not. So, I’d rather have you leave me now than pretend to be my friend just because you think I’m some damned hero.”

Emily took a deep breath. “I still don’t hate you, Dean. And I still think you’re a hero. I mean, I’m not going to lie; this is quite a bit to take in. But I’ve suspected for years that you had one hell of a story that you were keeping to yourself. It’s going to take time for me to process this all, but I’m not leaving you. Even if you’re…” She looked at the photo again. “Twenty-something years old.”

“Early thirties.” Dean corrected.

“And you carry all that around? How?” She looked at him and tried to see him as anything other than a seventeen year old boy, and found that while part of her easily accepted it due to his obvious experience, her brain still registered him as ‘just Dean’.

“What choice do I have? I just…” Dean looked around wildly. “No!” He pushed Emily away from himself suddenly. She fell over backwards and her head ended up hanging out of the jungle-gym.

Emily sat up to face her friend. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

“Get away from me! You’re not taking me back there!” His eyes were wild and completely dilated. The young hunter’s breathing was harsh and ragged as he scrambled to his knees.

“Dean, it’s me. Emily. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He let out a brief laugh. “Like I’d believe your kind.” He sneered at her. “Now get out of my friend, you bitch!”

Okay, now she was starting to understand. Sort of. She just didn’t get why Dean would think she was possessed. “There’s no demon in me, Dean. I have the anti-possession tattoo. Remember? You came with me last month when I got it. I was scared to death and you held my hand… I’m still nervous about my mom seeing it and thinking I’m involved in the occult.”

“Stop with the lies! I can see your black eyes!” He screamed, somewhat hysterically. Then he kicked out and knocked Emily right out of the jungle-gym. 

Luckily it wasn’t that far up and she rolled as she hit the ground. Still, the girl knew she’d be sporting a few bruises by the next day. 

“Dean, please listen to me…”

But then he started screaming as if he were in agony. Emily looked into the jungle-gym and saw her friend rolling around as much as the small space would allow and clutching at his middle. When he started slamming his head into the plastic floor, her eyes filled with tears. There was something very wrong with him. And she had no clue how to help him. But there was someone who would know.

Emily turned and ran towards the Winchester house. She had to get Sam. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam was ready to just say ‘the hell with it’ and climb out the window to go after Dean. Sure he didn’t know where to look for his brother, but Dean hadn’t taken the Impala, so he couldn’t have gotten far. Hopefully. Of course, that still left miles for him to search. And where to even begin?

Dean wouldn’t go to a store. He was too young for the bars. Maybe a diner? Or a motel. 

Sam flopped back onto his bed in frustration. He should’ve bugged Emily into telling him where Dean’s secret spot was. But after the way his dad had acted, the boy wasn’t about to start demanding that anyone share their secrets. He wouldn’t become like that man.

And just what the hell was up with that? Okay, yeah, it was a bit of a shock to learn what Dean had done. But couldn’t their dad see how much all of it was killing Dean? Couldn’t he understand that it wasn’t Dean’s fault? Why didn’t he pull his head out of his own ass for just a moment and think about his son? Then again, their dad had been on edge for a few days now. Sam recalled the man yelling at him for coming down to dinner a bit late on the day that his friend, Chris, had been over. The two of them had gotten carried away playing Risk and by the time Sam had realized that his mom was calling him, the food had already been on the table for a while. Yeah, he knew better but he hadn’t deserved to get torn a new one like that. Especially not in front of his friend. Still, that was nothing compared to what their dad had just put Dean through.

Sam slipped out of his room and into his brother’s. Maybe he’d find something in there to help point him in the right direction to finding his brother. Because if he didn’t hear back from Emily soon, he’d have to do something.

The boy thought about looking through the journal, but figured there wouldn’t be anything helpful in there. It was filled with stuff about the previous timeline. Not private stuff about Dean nowadays. Sam glanced around the shelves, the desk, the nightstand, and even the CD rack. Nothing. Finally, he lifted up Dean’s mattress. Sam wrinkled his nose at the sight of magazines that he’d rather not see, but then his eyes widened. 

The boy reached in and snatched up what looked like a black hacky-sack. But Sam knew what it was. A hex bag. 

He dropped the mattress back into place and climbed onto the bed. Then, the hunter-in-training untied the bag and poured out the contents. He tried not to think of the last time Dean had run up against these things. His brother had almost killed himself under its influence. But the stuff inside this one was really different. And it included a picture of Dean. 

What was it for? How did it get there? Were there more?

Sam jumped down and ran back into his room. He lifted up his own mattress. He found some candy bar wrappers and the book that he’d shoved under there, but nothing more. Good. On to the next spot.

Sam crept down the hall into his parents’ room. He started at his dad’s side and pushed the mattress up into the air. And there was a small, dark red bag. Sam snatched it up and went to his mom’s side. A dark yellow was under the mattress there. What the hell?

Sam took them into Dean’s room, feeling nervous and a little sick to his stomach. Something was targeting his family. And it had been in their house. It hadn’t come after him, probably because he wasn’t seen as a threat, but it had put hex bags in his family’s beds. 

The boy opened them. The contents of his parents’ bags were very different than the one for Dean, and were very slightly different than each others, but each one held a picture of the intended target.

Sam ran to the top of the stairs. 

“Mom!”

“What do you need, Sam?”

“Please come up here!”

When she got to the top, he ushered her into Dean’s room.

“Sam, what’re you doing in your brother’s room? You’re supposed to…” Then she must’ve caught sight of the stuff on the bed. “What is that?”

“I found these under your mattresses. Something’s going on, Mom.”

Her eyes widened. Then she stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Good job finding these, Sam. But you need to leave the room. I’m going to get your father up here and we’re going to burn this stuff and I don’t know what the magical backlash will be. If there’s some kind of explosive force I don’t want you getting hurt. Stay in your room until I tell you it’s safe. Please, sweetie.”

Sam nodded. He could tell that his mom was shaken but was in full hunter mode. 

“If you take pictures of the stuff, maybe we can identify its purpose later.” He suggested.

“Just what I was thinking.” She picked up Dean’s Polaroid camera from his desk as Sam left the room.

A minute or so after he was in his room, the boy heard her calling out to her husband. 

Sam started pacing. This was bad. Very bad. Dean was in danger and Sam couldn’t help him because he had no clue as to where his brother was. What was he going to…

A knock at his window made him jump. Sam turned to see Emily looking in at him.

The boy opened the window up.

“What are you doing? How did you get up here?”

“Seriously? I’ve been climbing in and out of windows since I was far younger than you, so that I could get out of my house for a little while when I needed to.”

“Oh… did you find Dean?”

“Yeah, and he needs you.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, already moving to climb out the window.

Emily went down and then Sam followed. Once they were both in the yard, they headed for the fence. It was kind of scary how easily a teenage girl could sneak into their house. Protected well from the supernatural, but not from young women if they ever decided to become cat burglars. 

As they went through the gate and out onto the side walk, she gave him an answer. “He’s freaking out. He was convinced that I was a demon and then he started thrashing about and screaming like something was… I don’t know, killing him. He sounded like he was in a lot of pain. I mean the whole time we were talking he was edgy and nervous and when I first got there he didn’t seem with it, but then I got distracted from all that by what he was saying about your dad and…” she took a deep breath. “And _he told me_.”

“Told you?” Sam’s eyes grew huge. “He told you what he did in Hell?”

“In Hell? What? Dean was in Hell?”

“Oh… uh, yeah. So, what _did_ he tell you?” Crap, Dean was gonna kill him for letting that slip.

“His big secret.” She said in a ‘duh’ kind of voice. “About where… _when_ he’s really from.”

“Oh! Oh, wow… he told you that?”

“Yeah. He was really messed up. I think he was trying to push me away.”

“Did he succeed?” Sam really hoped that the answer was ‘no’.

“Well, he freaked me out a bit… but, as I already told him, I’m not leaving him.”

Sam let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m glad.”

The rain was beginning to pick up as they entered the gate to the playground. Sam remembered Dean taking him here when they were little. 

“Why are we here?”

“Dean and I come here sometimes to think. He’s right over…” Emily came to a stop in front of the blue and orange plastic jungle-gym. It was empty. She shook her head. “No… he was here. He was right here when I left!”

Sam looked around but couldn’t see any signs of his brother. Dean was highly emotional, was being targeted by something, and, from the sounds of it, he was hallucinating. And now he was out there somewhere completely alone.


	200. Hellucinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is; Chapter 200! Thank you for all of your support.

Chapter Two Hundred: Hellucinations 

The pain was horrendous as the hellhounds ripped at his flesh and tore into him with their massive jaws. Dean screamed in agony and thrashed about, trying to throw them off. But he knew that it was no use. He was as good as dead. And then his soul would be dragged back down to Hell, where he’d be tortured for all eternity. Again. But he swore to himself that this time he wouldn’t break. No matter what. He’d never be _that_ weak again. 

Dean was violently pulled from his dark thoughts by another wave of unbearable pain. He let out another cry and then the creatures just stopped.

Dean gasped in surprise and opened his eyes (when the hell had he closed them?) to find that the ugly bastards were gone. The hellhounds had left. But why? After a moment, the hunter came to the only logical conclusion. They’d never been there in the first place. He’d hallucinated the whole damned thing. Just like the hallucinations of Hell that he’d had back when he’d been a kid this time around. But what had set it off? He’d been hearing and then seeing these freakin’ things since last night. Maybe his encounter with the devil-dogs had shaken him more than he’d thought. But that didn’t explain the stuff he’d been hearing the past few days… whispers and echoes and such. And the weird feeling of unease that wouldn’t go away when he was at home. And what about Emily…

Dean sat up suddenly. Where was she? Had she been here at all? Was she really possessed? No, she couldn’t be. She’d gotten that tattoo. She was safe, but he’d seen her eyes turn black just now. Was that part of the hallucination as well?

“Ah!” Dean cried out in pain and doubled over; his hand wrapping around his stomach. 

Carefully, and a bit nervously, the hunter reached down and pulled his t-shirt up to take a look. He blinked in shock at what he found. There were four long, bloody gashes running across his stomach, starting on the left just above his waist and running up to the right side of his ribs. But… but how? The hounds hadn’t been real. And his t-shirt was still intact. Dean hesitantly reached down and touched the wound. Damn, that hurt. It was real, alright. He watched as blood dripped down to join a little bit of rain water that had seeped in to puddle in the jungle-gym. 

How the hell had a hallucination injured him? Or was this real? What was going on?

Dean was losing it. And just then, he heard the growling start up once more. Oh, hell no. He wasn’t becoming a chew toy again. 

The young hunter scrambled out of the jungle-gym and down to the ground. His stomach protested the movement and Dean wrapped his arm around it protectively. He heard a faint laughter ( _was that real_ ) and then more growling. The teen’s heart started to beat like crazy. 

He wanted to go home. He’d be safe there. But no. He couldn’t. Dean wasn’t wanted there. Besides, if somehow something _was_ able to follow him in there, he couldn’t bring it in with him. He couldn’t endanger his family. Even if they _did_ hate him now. 

Dean took off running out of the playground, but away from his family’s house. He had no clue as to where to go. Maybe he could find some place to stay safe for a while and then he’d contact Cas. The angel would know what to do. But first he had to get away from the hellhounds.

So he ran as fast as he could. But no matter how fast Dean ran, he could hear the damned beasts gaining on him. The hunter looked behind him and saw one right on his heels. Damn it! He turned back around just in time to see the woman stepping out of her car. 

He crashed into her and they both went sprawling to the ground. Dean let out a pained noise and held on to his injured middle and he rolled away. The teen forced himself to his knees and looked around wildly. The hounds were gone again. 

“Watch where you’re going, young man!” The woman snapped.

“Sorry.” Dean muttered. “I’m sorry.” He struggled to his feet and then reached out to help the lady up.

She gasped and he looked down to see that his hand was covered in his own blood.

“Oh my… you’re hurt! Did you cut your hand? My husband is a paramedic and I think he’s home. If you just wait, I can go and get him…”

Dean missed the rest of what she was rambling on about when the whispering started back up. As always, he couldn’t make out the words exactly, but the intent… well, it was sinister. That much Dean knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. He pressed his hands to his ears to try and block it out as the sound got louder and more insistent. It had never been _this_ bad. It was always just in the back of his head. Like something out of a dream. He’d just assumed that he was overtired or something. But no… there was something there.

“Young man… are you okay? Oh God… the bleeding… your shirt is soaked with blood! I’m going to get my husband!” But then her eyes turned black. She was a demon. Her goddamned husband probably was too.

“Stay away from me, bitch!” Dean backed away nervously. Then he turned and darted out into the street. He heard the screech of tires and briefly wondered if he was about to get killed by being hit by a car, but then he was on the other side of the road. 

As he ran down the sidewalk, he cursed himself for leaving the house without any weapons that could kill the things that were now after him. He had a pocketknife and holy water and that was it. Those weren’t going to keep him alive for much longer if so many demons and hellhounds kept pursuing him. But wait… 

Dean turned down an alley and came to a stop. Was he really being chased? Hadn’t he decided that he was hallucinating? Then the sharp pain in his stomach reminded him that something had actually injured him. 

What was going on? Was any of this even real? Dean needed answers. He slumped down to sit leaning against the wall of one of the buildings and reached into his pocket for his phone. With shaking hands, he began to dial Cas’ number, but then the blood slick object dropped to the ground as he jumped in surprise and looked up.

“No…” Dean shook his head in denial. 

“Yes, Dean. Did you really think that I was gone?”

“My… my parents said that… they killed you.” 

Alastair let out a sadistic chuckle. “And why would they do that? They’d be so much better off if you were with me instead of them.” 

Dean shook his head again. “No… they wouldn’t…”

“Face it, Dean. You belong with me. A few more decades of torture and you’ll learn your place. Again.”

Again? But no; the Alastair of this time wouldn’t know about any of that. So this… this couldn’t be real.

“You’re not real.” Dean declared, getting to his feet and standing face to face with the hallucination.

“Oh, look at the scared little boy pretending to be brave.” Alastair sneered. Then he leaned in close. “Do you really think it matters if I’m real? You’re still a pathetic failure. And I can still make you bleed.”

Alastair reached out and grabbed Dean’s face and held it so tight that the teen swore that his jaw would break.

“Stop…” Dean managed to get out.

“Why?” The white-eyed demon smirked. 

It was just a hallucination. Dean closed his eyes. _Not real not real not real not real not real_. It was just like back when he was a kid, after that demon attack. Maybe if he ignored it all, it would go away.

“Oh yes, when you almost went crazy from a little demon attack all those years ago. Still have a reminder of that, don’t you?” Alastair’s finger traced the barely visible scar that ran down the right side of Dean’s face from below his hairline to near his eye. “But those hallucinations were nothing, Dean. They couldn’t do _this_.”

There was a blur and then Dean’s face exploded in agony right where the demon had just been touching him. The hunter reached up to grab at the area and felt the blood pouring down his face. It was then that he saw the razor in Alastair’s hand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pocketknife. Not much protection, but it was better than nothing.

Alastair laughed at him. “Dean, Dean, Dean… really? You think you can defeat me with _that_?”

“Stay away from me!” Dean shouted.

But the demon stepped closer, blade held out in front of him.

Just then, Dean’s cell phone started ringing. The hunter glanced over at it. Sam. Well, no time to answer it now. Not when Alastair was about to skin him alive.

But when the teen turned back to face his opponent, the demon was gone. Not taking his eyes off of where Alastair had just been, Dean dropped to his knees and picked up the cell with one trembling hand. He pressed the ‘answer’ button and raised it to his ear.

“Hell… hello.” His voice shook.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was filled with relief. “Dean, where are you? Are you alright?”

“Sammy? Are… is this real?” Dean had to ask. Because, damn it all, he just wasn’t sure anymore.

“What? Yeah, Dean. Of course I’m real. And I’m going to help you, alright? Are you hurt?”

“Yeah… the hellhounds… they got me, Sammy. And then Alastair…”

“None of that’s real, Dean. It’s all a hallucination. Emily was there with you and she didn’t see anything.”

Dean laughed somewhat hysterically. “I know! I know, it’s not real, Sammy. But I’m bleeding anyways. They cut me open. I’m not imagining that.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Where are you?”

Should he tell Sam? He’d be putting his little brother in danger if the hounds or Alastair came back. But on the other hand, if the things were just hurting Dean, then maybe Sam would be safe. And maybe he’d be able to help. After all, Sam had stood by him so far…

“In… in an alley. Near the corner store we’d get the ice cream and sodas from when we were kids.”

“Oh, thank God! We’re right nearby. Hang on, Dean.” 

“Yeah… okay, Sammy.” Dean cringed as the whispering started up again. He fisted his hand that wasn’t holding the phone into his short hair and silently pleaded for all of this crap to just stop. 

But it didn’t. The whispers got louder and Dean started to make out some words. ‘Hell’, ‘damned’, ‘broke’, ‘torture’… He shook his head. No. None of this was real. But the pain in his stomach and the blood running down his face told a different story. Dean closed his eyes tight. When he opened them, he paled at what he saw.

The alley was filled with chains hanging down from a web stretching across the buildings, and each chain ended in a bloody meat hook. Burning embers coated the middle of the pavement, glowing red hot. And he could hear those damned hellhounds howling away in the distance.

Dean tried to curl in on himself to become a smaller target and to keep his body away from any of the stuff that could harm him. He needed to stay in one piece until Sam arrived.

“Dean!” His brother’s voice didn’t come from the phone.

Dean looked up and saw the boy standing at the entrance of the alley. Emily was standing right behind him. 

“Sammy… be careful… it’s not safe…”

His little brother looked around. “Dean, there’s nothing dangerous… holy crap! Your face! Dean, what happened? You’re bleeding!”

Sam started towards him. Dean watched as his younger brother ran onto the burning coals.

“No! Don’t…” He crawled forward to warn the boy, but cried out as his hands and knees got burned.

“Dean! Dean, what’s wrong?”

Then Sam was there and was pushing him back, and the teenager was rolled off of the hot section of the pavement. He groaned in agony as his abused body protested the movement. Dean glanced over to see that both Sam and Emily were kneeling on the smoldering coals without being affected. Oh, good… they were safe.

“Oh God, Dean…” Emily’s voice was filled with compassion. “What happened to you?”

Dean just shook his head. What was he supposed to say? Not even _he_ was sure what was going on.

Then Sam was using his sleeve to gently wipe the blood off of his face. Damn, but that stung. 

“That looks deep, Dean. We gotta get you home. You need stitches. Is anything else injured? You sounded like something was hurting you when we arrived.”

“The ground.” Dean admitted. “It’s…” He licked his lips, knowing how crazy he was going to sound. Knowing that he was the only one that could see these things. “The ground is covered in burning hot coals.”

Both his brother and his friend looked around.

“You’re hallucinating, Dean.” Sam informed him gently.

“I know, Sammy. But it’s still real enough to do this.” He held up his sore hands and opened them to reveal second degree burns on his palms and fingers.

Sam and Emily gasped. 

“That just happened?” Emily questioned, taking his hands in hers.

Dean nodded.

“Are these your only injuries?” Sam wanted to know.

Dean shook his head and pulled one of his hands away to carefully raise his t-shirt.

“Oh crap.” Sam muttered. What did that?”

“Hellhound.”

“How can hallucinations do this?” Emily asked, sounding scared. 

“I don’t know.” Sam replied. “Well, I have a theory… Dean, I found a hex bag under your mattress. Could magic cause something like this?”

Witchcraft. Goddamned, freakin’ witchcraft. “Yeah, I think so.”

“That’s it then. But Mom should’ve taken care of it by now… unless it has some after effects. Is that possible?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. Some of that crap is really strong. And if I’ve been sleeping right over it…”

“We should get him back and get those wounds looked at.” Emily suggested.

Dean shook his head. “No.”

“Dean, you can’t stay here.” Sam insisted. “You’re really injured bad. I get that you’re hurt by what happened. I’m upset too. Dad acted like an ass. But just so you know, there were bags under Dad and Mom’s spots on their bed too. They were different than yours. And I got to thinking; Dad’s always been a bit of jerk about certain stuff but he’s been a real creep lately. More than usual. So maybe something’s affecting him too. I’m not excusing what he said, I just…”

“Sammy,” Dean cut him off. “Even if Dad doesn’t hate me for real, I still can’t go back home.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t get out of this alley if the damn road’s gonna burn my feet.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Is there a way to make the hallucinations stop?” Emily questioned. “I mean, you weren’t having them all the time when we were talking earlier.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes they go away. But then they come back.” 

“It’ll be okay, Dean.” San told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Close your eyes and just concentrate on them being gone.”

“And click my heels together and say ‘there’s no place like home’?” Dean smirked.

His brother rolled his eyes while Emily actually let out a short giggle. 

“Seriously, Dean.”

“Okay.” Dean closed his eyes. _Not real not real not real not real not real_.

“Think about the alley being back to normal.” Sam instructed. “Remember that as real as it feels to you, it’s not for real at all.”

The hunter did as he was told. And he concentrated on the feel of Sam’s hand on his shoulder and Emily’s in his own, trying to ignore the pain that he was in. He focused on the good stuff around him instead of the crap that had been terrorizing him. Then he took a deep breath and reopened his eyes.

“Well?” Sam asked.

“Someone should really pick the broken beer bottles up.” Dean commented. “Never know when a hallucinating teenager might run down here in a panic. I could’ve gotten hurt on those things.”

Sam laughed, looking relieved. “Well, thank god that didn’t happen. Wouldn’t want to get a tiny little cut on yourself, now would you?”

Dean struggled to his feet with the help of the other two. He pressed his right sleeve to his face and held his left arm around his middle. Damn, he hurt.

“Let’s get you home.” Emily wrapped an arm around him for support.

They made it out of the alley and started back towards the house. Dean was wary to go back there. Sure, Sam had said that maybe his dad’s reaction hadn’t been completely his own, but what if it had? Dean didn’t want to face the man again. Not right then. But he had little choice. He couldn’t stay out here to die. And if someone was targeting their family, Dean needed to be there to help them. Even if he was a failure.

They’d almost made it back to the house, ignoring the looks from passersby at Dean’s bedraggled and bloody appearance, when Dean heard the hellhounds again. And by the sound of their growling, they were very close by.


	201. Hex Effects

Chapter Two Hundred and One: Hex Effects 

There were three hex begs lying on his eldest son’s bed; their contents spilled out all over the sheets. John stared at the items and the photographs of himself, his wife, and Dean. They had been targets of some sort of black magic. He felt the rage that had been simmering away in him return to a full boil. Someone was going to pay.

“Damn it!” He screamed. “How the hell did these get here?”

“I don’t know.” Mary admitted. “Sam found them and showed them to me just now.”

“Sam? Well, just what was he doing in here? He’s supposed to be in his goddamn room, not snooping around Dean’s stuff! And…”

Mary stepped forward and pulled out a lighter. She was going to burn the contents of the bags. John felt panic well up in himself. He’d read up on witchcraft and hex bags after their last encounter with the magical items and he knew that some of them had a terrible backlash when they were destroyed. He reached out and grabbed onto his wife’s arm. No way in hell was he going to let her get hurt.

“No! I’ll do it. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Mary nodded and handed the lighter over to him. Strange. Normally she’d at least try to argue with him about how she was more than capable of performing such a task. His wife was a hunter and not one to just stand on the sidelines. But whatever. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth right now. 

John snatched up Dean’s metal mesh trash can and swiped all the items from the bed into it. Then he lit a piece of paper on fire and dropped it in. The hunter watched as everything in the waste basket caught fire. At first it seemed perfectly normal, but then the flame turned really bright and then flashed a brilliant purple and sparks flew out all over the place. 

John threw himself on Mary, using his body as a shield. The hunter wondered briefly if their house was in fact going to burn down after all, just thirteen years after the events that had originally been supposed to set that into motion. But after a moment, everything seemed calm. He looked back to the bin and saw a small, normal looking flame near the bottom. He went to approach it when his mind started to feel a bit fuzzy. The man blinked and shook his head, hoping to dispel the odd feeling. 

A second later, it left him. And with it went the cloud of anger, rage, fear, and suspicion that he’d been living with for days. The feelings that had seemed so normal and natural and just a part of him that he’d never even thought to question it. But now, with all of that mess gone from him, John suddenly realized just how incredibly different he’d been feeling and reacting the past… almost a full week. He’d snapped at Sam for really stupid insignificant things. He’d been irritable at work. He hadn’t listened to Mary about anything and had treated her like crap. And Dean… Oh, God…

John was hit by the image of his oldest son’s hurt face as the teenager turned away and left the house. Now, without all the extreme emotions clouding his head, the father thought back to their conversation and what Dean had revealed. Okay, yeah, he was still a bit appalled to know that his own flesh and blood had performed those sorts of acts but Dean was still his son. And it wasn’t like the boy had done it of his own free will. He’d been tortured into it after thirty years. John had caught a glimpse of what Hell had been like when Cas had brought them into Dean’s dream over twelve years ago and to be honest he couldn’t imagine anyone holding up under _that_ kind of torment. And Dean obviously felt horrible about it. And now he’d feel even worse.

“John?” Mary’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What just happened? I feel like… I don’t know; like my head is clearer.”

He turned to face his wife. “Me too. That damned thing was screwing with my head.”

“The way you’ve been these past few days.” Her eyes widened.

“And the fact that you haven’t kicked my ass for it.” He countered.

“Dean had one too. But his was different. What could it mean?”

John shook his head. “We won’t know unless he comes back. _If_ he comes back. I really screwed that up… But you know, he _was_ acting a bit jumpy this morning. I just dismissed it so that I could yell at him and Sam instead.”

Mary sighed. “Look, you can get upset at yourself and your own actions later. For now, we need to figure out what’s going on. And a good place to start is by talking with Sam. He found the bags, maybe he can answer some questions. Also, he’s the only one that might be able to convince Dean to come home if he can get him on his phone.”

Damn, he was happy to have _his_ Mary back again. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d been too quiet and too submissive these past few days, but it was a relief to hear her being herself once more. 

John led the way out of Dean’s room and down the hall to their younger son’s door. He knocked and waited for a moment. There was no answer. He knocked again.

“Sam, this is important. It’s about the hex bags.” Still nothing. “Screw it.” He muttered. He didn’t want to upset anyone any further, but this was an emergency, so John just opened the door and let himself in.

The room was empty and the window was wide open. The rush of anger and fear that the father felt at that discovery was all his own.

“He’s gone.” 

“He must’ve gone after Dean.” Mary stated.

“We should call him.”

“And what? Demand he come back? If he’s with Dean now, that’ll just make things worse.”

“We can tell him about what just happened. Warn him…”

“John, Sam _found_ the hex bags. He knows that we are in danger. He’ll bring Dean back. And then we can _both_ scold him for climbing out his window and leaving the house without permission while someone obviously has it out for us.”

“You’re right.” John admitted.

“Of course. I always am.” Mary smiled.

But he wasn’t about to just sit around and hope that everything just turned out okay. “We need to check the rest of the house.” He stated. “I’ll start in Dean’s room. You take Sam’s.”

Mary nodded. “We clear upstairs and then move down.”

Nothing suspicious had turned up by the time that John had started in on Cas’ room in the lower part of the house. Which would be incredibly easy since the angel had very few items stored there. But he’d just placed the mattress back down when he heard the front door bang open. 

John rushed out and into the living room. Then he froze at the sight of his oldest son leaning heavily on his friend, Emily, while Sam was closing the door. The right side of Dean’s face was a mask of blood and he was hunched over in obvious pain. John was about to ask him what had happened when the teen suddenly looked around wildly.

“No!” He shouted and then twisted right out of Emily’s arms and fell to the floor.

“Dean!” The girl yelled.

John went to rush forward but stopped as he saw Dean begin to kick at nothing and cry out in agony. Suddenly, blood started to leak through the boy’s right pant leg. But how? Nothing supernatural could get inside their house.

“Mary! We need the Colt!”

“No!” Sam shot back. “It won’t help. Dean’s hallucinating, but the stuff he’s seeing can actually hurt him.” The smaller boy had dropped down at his brother’s side. Both he and Emily were holding on to him. “We gotta snap him out of this!”

“How can a hallucination hurt him?” Mary wanted to know.

“The hex bags is my best guess.” Sam responded.

“We burned them.” John replied.

“Tell that to Dean!” Sam then turned his full attention to his brother. “Come on, Dean. Focus on me. The hellhounds aren’t real.”

“They’re clawing at me, Sammy! They’re gonna kill me! Get away!”

“No, Dean.” Emily broke in. “You can make them stop. You’re strong enough to make them go away. Remember back in the alley? You can do this. Just close your eyes and listen to us.”

Dean’s left eye (the one not covered with blood) was filled with pain and panic, but still he nodded and did as he’d been instructed.

“Good.” Sam praised. “Now focus on the hounds being gone. You’re home now. Home and safe. Nothing can get to you here.”

John could see that Dean’s lips were moving and when he got close enough he heard that the teenager was whispering the words ‘not real’ over and over again. After a moment, Dean’s body went still.

Emily ran her hand through his hair. “Better?”

He nodded. “Yeah… thanks.”

Sam and Emily helped him sit up. John saw that the front of Dean’s shirt was soaked with blood. He wondered what other injuries his son had. Injuries that he probably wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for John opening his big mouth and making the boy flee the house.

“We need to check you over, Dean.” John declared.

Mary left the room and came back holding the first aid kit. The good one. John went over to help Dean get his shirt off but the teen shifted away from him, mistrust written all over his face. It was obvious that the boy was thinking over their last exchange. Sam stepped in and got the t-shirt off of the injured young hunter.

John swallowed and heard his wife gasp as their son’s body was exposed. Four long gashes ran across his torso. Mary knelt down to examine them. Just then, Emily spoke up.

“What’s that on his back?”

John moved to get a look, expecting to see another cut or injury that would have to be sewn shut. But instead he was faced with some sort of… well, it looked like a brand in between Dean’s shoulder blades. 

“Mary, come take a look.”

Seconds later, everyone was staring at the boy’s back.

“What is it?” Dean demanded. 

“Some kind of mark.” Mary replied. “A symbol that seems to have been branded into your skin.” She reached out and ran her fingers over it. “A powerful enough spell can transfer itself from an object to its intended victim.”

“The magic transitioned from the hex bag to Dean?” Sam asked.

“So it seems.”

“How do we get rid of it?”

Mary looked to John. “The same way we get rid of hex bags.”

John felt his jaw drop. “But we burned…”

She nodded. “Get me an iron knife and your lighter.” The she moved so that Dean could see her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. This is going to hurt. But it’s the only way to break the spell and stop these hallucinations.”

Dean bit his lip but nodded. “Do it.”

John hurried to grab the items that were requested. He didn’t want to waste time and risk Dean having any further hallucinations. 

When he returned and handed the knife and lighter to Mary, he saw that Dean had his head on Emily’s shoulder and Sam was holding one of his brother’s hands. The way he held it was a bit strange though, and when John looked closer he could see that the older boy’s hand was burned. 

“Okay, Dean.” Mary announced after a moment. John looked to see that the top of the knife was now glowing with heat. He knelt down and placed a reassuring hand on his son’s arm. Dean looked up at him with surprise. John nodded encouragingly. “Here we go.”

Dean let out a strangled cry and pressed his head back down onto Emily’s shoulder the moment the hot blade touched him. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. After a few seconds, Mary took the weapon away. Dean was panting but still lifted his face up to look at them.

“I… I think it worked. I was hearing whispers. They’re gone.” The teen’s face appeared pale and sweaty where the blood wasn’t covering it.

Dean was practically falling over at that point, so John carefully lifted him up and placed him onto the couch. He groaned as his back touched the cushions. Mary came over with a wet cloth and proceeded to gently wipe the blood from his face. John was hit with a violent flashback of a five year old Dean with blood all over his face from a deep cut in the same exact spot on his face. It couldn’t be a coincidence. 

“Dean, what happened?” He gestured to the teenager’s face.

“Alastair… well, sort of.”

John understood. Dean had hallucinated the demon cutting him in that spot. And it had happened. 

The worried father noticed that his son had dropped his gaze and refuse to look John in the eye. Yeah, their earlier conversation was definitely going to have to be addressed. But not now. For now, Dean had to be patched up and allowed to rest.

Which ended up taking a lot longer than he’d thought. All four claw marks on the teen’s chest, the two on his leg, and the slice on his face needed to be stitched up and his hands and back needed burn cream and bandages. Dean was asleep from the pain meds and exhaustion shortly after Mary and John had finished up. 

“What exactly happened?” John questioned as he helped his wife clean up.

“I found him in a spot we often hang out in.” Emily disclosed. “He seemed jumpy and not really with it at first but then we talked for a bit. After a while he got worked up again and thought I was a demon. Then he started screaming and thrashing around. I didn’t know what was wrong, so I came and got Sam.”

Mary looked confused. “But I didn’t hear you come in.”

She looked sheepish. “I knew Dean had fought with his dad and that things were really bad. He said that you guys hated him. So, I thought it best to go straight to Sam.”

“His window.” John stated, remembering that it had been open.

“Yeah.” She admitted.

“Never do that again.”

Now the girl looked defiant. “If it’s what’s best for Dean, I’ll do it a million more times.”

John was going to protest, but then Sam started talking. “And it _was_ for the best, Dad. Because when we found Dean he was hallucinating and we had to talk him out of it. Do you really think he’d have listened to you right now with everything that happened between you guys this morning?”

“Look Sam, I know I said some stuff to Dean that…”

“I know. The hex bags. But it still doesn’t make everything better. And save the apologies for Dean.”

John felt a bit ticked off that he’d been dismissed by his own son, but he bit back any response. Getting in an argument right then was probably not the best way to proceed.

He sighed. “Well, let’s finish clearing the house to make sure there’s no more surprises. And we should get Cas back here.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Emily offered.

“You and Sam stay here and keep an eye on Dean. Wake him if he looks like he’s in distress.”

Both of them nodded.

John scooped up all the bloody cloths and went to dispose of them. As he left the room he closed his eyes briefly, praying for the strength to make it through everything that was to come. Because he had a feeling that whatever was happening right then was just the tip of the iceberg.


	202. A Theory

Chapter Two Hundred and Two: A Theory 

He never should have left. He should have known that something was very wrong and he should have stayed by Dean’s side. But no. Somehow, the magic from the hex had been hidden from him and he’d ignored the building tension in the Winchester house and allowed John to send him off to Pastor Jim Murphy’s home to help when his friend had been the one that had truly needed the help. And now Dean was injured.

Castiel stood over the sleeping young hunter, who was curled up on his side on the couch, and looked at the bandages that covered his face and torso. And he knew from the Winchester parents that there were more on the teenager’s leg. He’d been torn apart by something that only he could see and no one could stop. Because of the magic. But how? The Winchester house was protected. And Castiel should have been able to sense the hex bags if they were in the rooms. Especially if one had been so strong as to leave a mark on Dean.

The angel reached out and gently placed his hand on his friend’s back, right between the shoulder blades, where a gauze pad was taped into place. He closed his eyes and tried to sense any residual magic.

Suddenly Dean shot up into a sitting position.

“Don’t be alarmed.” Castiel instructed. “It’s just me.”

“Sorry… just a bit jumpy.” 

“It’s understandable.”

“So… what’re you caressing my back for? ‘Cause it’s a bit weird, dude.” Dean raised an eyebrow, but grinned to show that he was just teasing.

“I was trying to find out what sort of magic was used on you and your family.”

“The sucky kind.” Dean responded. “You can remove the bandage and take a look if you need to.”

“I do not wish to cause you more pain.”

“Hurts like all hell already. You won’t be doing anything worse to it. And if you can help figure out what’s going on, it’ll be worth it.”

Castiel hesitated a moment before reaching out and carefully pulling the bandage off. Dean shifted so that the angel could get a better view. The brand itself was almost completely burned away, but the edges were still visible. Castiel traced them gently with his finger tips, pulling away when Dean tensed and let out a barely audible hiss. But the mark seemed familiar. And there was a residual dark feeling to it. He thought back to the pictures that Mary had shown him when he’d first returned to the house of the contents of the hex bags and he came to a horrible conclusion.

“We need to gather your family. Now.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t.”

He watched the young hunter slowly and stiffly get to his feet. Castiel wanted to offer his assistance, but saw the determination in Dean’s face and knew that he’d be turned down. So instead, he went to get John, Mary, and Sam so that all Dean would have to do was get himself situated for their meeting. 

Once everyone was gathered in the living room (Mary had put her foot down and insisted that the dining room table was off limits because the couch was a more comfortable place for Dean to sit than the hard wooden chairs that were around the table), Castiel was about to make his announcement but then Dean spoke up. 

“What happened after I passed out?”

“We searched the entire house from top to bottom.” John informed him “But it’s clean. Nothing else magical in the entire place. And there’s no marks on anyone else either.”

Dean nodded.

“And we called Cas back.” Sam spoke up. “He helped check things out too. And Emily and I sat with you. Well, until she had to go because of work. She wanted to call out but said that her boss is an ass.”

Dean smirked. “Yeah, I’ve been to the ice cream parlor. She’s not exaggerating.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Mary cut in. “The point is that there’s nothing else harmful in the house, but we still don’t know how those bags got there in the first place. Or who is out to get us.”

“I think that I do” Castiel offered.

All eyes turned to him.

“Who? How?” John demanded.

“The ‘how’ I am as yet unsure of, but the who is definitely demons.”

“Demons?” Sam questioned. “No way! They can’t get in here!”

“Sam’s right, Cas.” Dean agreed. “So why are you thinking demons?”

“Because the spell that was used on you was very specific. I have seen a power like it before, and it had always been either cast by a demon with knowledge of witchcraft or a very powerful witch that is consorting and perhaps even having relations with a demon. And the demon would definitely own the witch’s soul. But the speed in which the spell took hold would seem to more likely indicate a demon cast the spell itself.”

“How do you know how fast the spell worked?” John asked.

“You took apart the beds to wash the sheets last weekend. I recall Dean complaining about the task. And hex bags that had been there at that time would have been discovered.”

Mary nodded. “Good point. Should’ve thought of that myself.”

“You are too emotional right now.” Castiel mentioned. 

“But if it was a demon, how did it get the bags in our house?” Dean wanted to know. “No demon can step through our front gate, let alone cross the lawn, or even think of setting foot in the house.” Then the teen bit his lip in thought. “ _But_ humans have been known to work with demons…”

“Still, how would they get in the house?” Mary questioned.

“Emily!” Sam exclaimed.

“Uh, no.” Dean shook his head. “No way would she do this to us.”

“What? No! I didn’t mean that _she_ did this. But when she came to get me to help you, she came right in the yard and climbed up to my window. I remember thinking how easily she could’ve broke in the house had she wanted to. So, maybe someone else _did_ break into the house!”

“Maybe.” John allowed. “But when? The house hasn’t been empty at all since the weekend. Even when we were out on the hunt, Sam was here with Anderson. And I doubt that anyone would decide to break into our house when we had a police car sitting out front.”

“World’s dumbest criminal.” Dean commented. “Okay, so if no one had the opportunity to break in, then maybe it was someone who we let in. Anyone strange come in the house this week?”

Mary seemed to think it over. “We had Anderson here. We know he wouldn’t do it. Emily. Also not a suspect. The Harvelles came to dinner Sunday night, but they’d have no reason to want to hurt us. Mrs. Baker from next door stopped by to complain about the hedges being too overgrown again, but she never stepped through the front door. And Sam had his friend Chris over on Monday.”

“He’s not a demon.” Sam protested. “I checked.”

“No one’s saying he is.” Dean countered. “He couldn’t get in the house if he were. But, how well do you know him? Do you trust him?”

“Of course I do!” But then he seemed to think it over. “I guess. I mean, we’ve been friends for the last two years and he seems normal enough. Him and Josh are on debate team with me. I like Josh a bit more, because Chris is a bit moody sometimes, but he’s okay.”

“Did your friend seem any different when he was over this past week?” Castiel asked.

“Not really. I mean, he left during dinner because his stomach wasn’t feeling too well. Of course, it might’ve been an excuse because there was a lot of yelling at the table that night.”

“Sorry about that, Sam.” John apologized.

Sam shrugged. “Well, I guess it wasn’t really you. But Chris might’ve just wanted to bail. But he might’ve been actually sick because he was in the bathroom for quite a while earlier.”

“Are you sure that he was in the bathroom?” Dean asked.

“Well, he left my room and I heard the bathroom door close. But I didn’t follow him in or anything.”

“I’m just saying that Mom was downstairs, Dad was at work, and Cas and I were out so your friend would’ve had free roaming of the upstairs.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “But… why would he do it?”

“I don’t know, but does anyone remember Dad yelling around before that day?”

No one said anything.

“What about you Dean?” Castiel asked. “When did your problems start?”

“Monday; when we got back I felt a bit jumpy. But I figured it was from the hunt. After all, we’d just helped Bobby out I don’t think I’ll ever wash that stench of blood out of my clothes, and the fact that we thought it was the work of demons at first… well, I just brushed it off.”

“We need to find out if your friend has any reason to work with demons, Sam.” Castiel suggested.

Sam nodded. “Okay. I’m supposed to get together with him and Josh tomorrow anyways.”

“I’m coming.” Dean jumped in.

“Won’t that seem weird?” Castiel noted that Sam didn’t say no, just pointed out a small flaw. 

“Where are you meeting them?” The older brother asked.

“Uh, the mall. I was gonna ask you for a ride. And then we were going back to one of our houses afterwards.”

Dean nodded. “Great. I’ll give you a ride there and I’ll hang around. See if Emily can join me there so it won’t look so suspicious.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Mary asked, looking concerned.

“I will be.”

“You look like hell.” Sam commented.

“Thanks. Love you too.”

“He’s not wrong.” Castiel interjected. “You should take it easy.”

“Well, if Chris _is_ to blame, then maybe seeing what he did will provoke a reaction.” Dean crossed his arms.

“Please be careful, boys.” John requested. “I don’t want you putting yourselves in harm’s way.”

They both nodded. “We will be.” Sam promised.

“We should retire for the night.” Castiel suggested. “It appears that tomorrow will be eventful.”

“Hopefully not as eventful as today.” Dean muttered.

“God, let’s hope not.” Mary seconded.

Castiel watched as the brothers got to their feet and went up the stairs. After a moment of hesitation, John followed. The angel hoped that he was on his way to speak with his oldest son. They needed to begin to set things right after earlier. He hadn’t been there when it had happened, but Castiel had heard of what had gone down between them and he knew that things were not good. He hoped that it could be fixed. And he hoped that things were not about to get worse for the Winchesters.


	203. Things You Need to Hear

Chapter Two Hundred and Three: Things You Need to Hear 

It really felt like every single part of his entire body hurt and despite his ‘nap’ earlier, Dean was exhausted when he sat down on his bed. He couldn’t believe that all that had happened had really occurred in the span of just one single day. Although he guessed that it actually had been longer than that if he included all the days that he’d been under the influence of that damned hex. 

Dean stripped off his pants and threw them over his desk chair. The young hunter looked down at the gauze that was wrapped around his leg and shuddered as he recalled the hellhound clawing at his flesh and trying to rip him apart. He wondered briefly if the hallucinations could’ve eventually have killed him. Didn’t really matter. It was over. Well, except for the fact that they still had to find the one that had done all of this. And stop anything else like this from happening again.

But that was on the backburner until tomorrow. For now he was going to rest. Dean pulled his legs up onto the bed and scooted over to position himself so that he was leaning against a pillow that he’d had propped up against the headboard. He groaned when he realized that he’d just gotten semi-comfortable but had left his damned light on and would have to get up and cross the room to shut it off. Or maybe he’d just pull the covers over his head and sleep with the stupid room bright as day all night long. Yeah, that sounded more appealing. 

But before he could even begin to reach for his blankets, his door swung open. Dean shot up into a sitting position immediately and went to reach for the knife that he kept under his pillow. It turned out that he didn’t need it though, because there was no creature trying to get to him, just his father awkwardly entering his room.

The teen abandoned reaching for a weapon and instead snatched up his pajama pants from the foot of the bed and struggled to get them on quickly without jarring his injured leg. Dean didn’t bother with his t-shirt though. That would be far too uncomfortable to try and wrestle on at the moment. So instead, he sat there and crossed his arms around his stomach as his dad closed the door and stood there watching him.

“Uh… do you need something?” Dean asked after a moment.

“I just wanted to talk to you about earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He’d been afraid of that. Truthfully, Dean didn’t want the topic being brought up ever again. The crap that his dad had said to him had cut deep. It wasn’t like Dean had ever had a really great opinion of himself, but he’d spent the last twelve and a half years for the most part feeling loved and accepted by his family despite everything, and to have that suddenly ripped away had been pretty much the worst wound that he’d received that day. Which of course had been his motivation for hiding that one damnable secret for so long. And the response it had gotten was everything he’d feared and more. But then Hell had broken loose and hex bags had been discovered and now Dean really wanted to live in his own little world where maybe (just maybe) his dad really didn’t fear and hate him and the reaction and words from earlier had been caused by the spell. But if his father opened his mouth now and spoke of Dean being weak and an abomination and said that he was a horrible, disgusting person… well, then Dean would have to live with that forever.

So he was actually about to tell his dad to just leave him the hell alone, when the man walked over to sit on the bed next to him. 

“I can’t leave things the way that they were left this morning, Dean. That whole conversation… you understand that things got messed up because of the hex, right?”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, I was freaking out and I probably wouldn’t have even have said anything if I was thinking right.”

“No, that’s not really what I meant.” His dad rubbed at his forehead. “I’ve been experiencing extreme anger and other… dark, I guess is the best word… emotions over the past few days. And I haven’t been the best at controlling them. They were always in the background and they felt like a part of me. I didn’t even realize what was going on, Dean. And then certain things would just set me off. And that’s what happened this morning. When I found out about Sam being in your memories I felt really mad. And then it just took over and I demanded more answers from you. And I bullied you into giving them to me, even though I could tell that there was something bothering you. And that’s the first thing I need to apologize for, buddy. _You_ are more important than the secrets you carry.”

Dean cast him a skeptical look. “Really? Even now that you know that secret?” He had to ask. Because every time that he looked at his father all he could hear was his dad’s voice asking how Dean could do such things, accusing him of being a liar and a torturer, and telling him that he couldn’t even stand to look at Dean anymore. Those weren’t the words of a person that considered his son important at all. _The hex bag, Dean. Maybe it really was just the hex bag._ Boy, did Dean want to believe that.

His dad looked down. Oh, crap. He couldn’t even look Dean in the eyes. That wasn’t a good sign. “Yeah… I didn’t handle that too well, huh?” Then the man looked back up and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You told me the truth this morning and now I think you deserve to know the truth. The truth, Dean, is that I’m not alright with what you had to do in Hell.” It was Dean’s turn to look down. But his dad placed his other hand under the teen’s chin and forced his gaze back up. “But you should know that I’m not alright with many other things in your life too. I’m not alright with the fact that you saw your mom die when you were a little boy. I’m not alright with the fact that you lost out on your childhood to raise your little brother and become a hunter. I’m not alright with the fact that you had to sell your soul and go to Hell and be tortured for decades. I’m not alright with the fact that all you’ve known is pain and loss. I’m not alright with the fact that when you came back here to fix everything the entire family got a clean slate except for you. I’m not alright with all the times you’ve been hurt and injured and captured and tortured since that time. I’m not alright with the fact that you carry so much hate towards yourself. _But_ the one thing that I will _always_ be alright with is _you_ , Dean.”

Dean swallowed. Or at least he tried to, but there was a suspicious lump in his throat. “Dad, I… I tried…”

“I know. Whatever you did down there, it wasn’t your fault, son. I remember when you got this…” He reached out and touched the row of stitches that ran down Dean’s face right over where his light scar had been. “… the first time. All those years ago. You scared the crap out of your mother and me. You were just a kid back then, but lost in those memories, the kind of damage you did and the look in your eyes… Cas told us that that was you after you’d been tortured for almost thirty years. And that you had no way out of Hell. So, the kind of torment that you’d been put through… I don’t blame you for breaking, Dean. And you shouldn’t blame yourself. Hell, you should be damned proud that that isn’t still you. You take experiences like that and you use them to become a better person and protect others and save them from the stuff that you know is out there. There aren’t many people out there that are strong enough to pull that off.” 

“I don’t feel strong, Dad.” Dean admitted. “You said it yourself. I broke.”

“But you pulled yourself back together, Dean. I look at you and yeah, in some ways you still have cracks from everything you’ve been through. But you didn’t allow yourself to be shattered into pieces forever or rebuilt into something unrecognizable. You’re still my boy, and you’re still a hero.”

“Then why… earlier you…” Dean shook his head. “It couldn’t have all just been the hex.”

“No it wasn’t.” John admitted. “As I said, I’m not alright with what you did. What you were forced to do. I think about it, and what it must’ve been like for you, and how you’ve lived with it, and I try to even picture it and I…” He shook his head. “It was all a bit much, Dean. And that combined with the strong, darker emotions that the hex had stirred up in me and… and I’m so sorry, son.”

Dean nodded in understanding. “It’s okay, Dad. I get it. I just… I hadn’t wanted you guys to know about this.”

“But if we knew, we could’ve helped you. Stuff like this is way too heavy to carry on your own. Besides, it could be important if the demons or angels intend to try something like that again.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No, that was the first Seal. And since the last one was Lilith and that’s not an option anymore, getting me into Hell to break would be pretty damned pointless. So, the whole thing just became a tragic, dark story in my past.”

“But still, you could’ve told us.”

“I didn’t want to, Dad!” Dean exclaimed. “Back in the old timeline, I told Sammy and…” The young hunter gestured helplessly with his hands. “It wasn’t the best thing. I mean, I get it; he had a lot of his own stuff going on at the time and he wasn’t really himself, but… look, I got zero support then. And it got thrown back in my face more than once. So, I get here and you know what? I may not have gotten a clean slate here,” Dean pointed to his head. “But I got one here.” He gestured all around himself. “And that part was nice. No one knew of my many failures and I… well, I kind of enjoyed the love and acceptance and I didn’t want to lose it. So yeah, I kept some secrets. Because I was afraid you’d reacted the way you did earlier.”

“Well, I hope you realize now that, barring magical interference, that won’t be the case.”

Dean thought it over. He tried to push away the words from the morning and all the hurt that they’d caused. The hunter needed to focus on now and his father’s real reaction to the revelation. Which was far better than Dean had ever imagined. Not only was his dad not rejecting him, but he was even praising Dean. And he seemed sincere… 

“You sure? Because almost becoming a demon is probably the worst thing I ever did, but it’s far from my only screw up.”

“And that’s okay. I screw things up all the time. Hell Dean, you know of all the things that I would’ve messed up if it hadn’t been for you coming back here to change things. Which, by the way, I’m still thankful for.”

Dean shrugged. “Well, our family really needed a second chance.”

“Then give yourself a second chance, Dean. Stop holding the past over your own head.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” Dean replied truthfully. Up until coming back in time, his entire life had been characterized by his mistakes and people constantly reminding him of them and holding them over him. When he’d started a life in this timeline, his parents had been so supportive of him, so accepting, that he’d slowly started to move past it all. But there had always been the shadow of his past life hanging over him. And then last summer Alastair had gotten his hands on the young hunter and between the weeks of torture (both physical and mental) and the seemingly endless amount of time wandering around in his own memories (many of which were less than pleasant) Dean had found that the little amount of self-worth that he’d managed to build in the past decade or so had been shredded. 

“Well, the first step is letting all of us in. And no, I don’t mean that you have to make a huge confession to me right now. But if you ever feel weighed down by your past, please talk to someone. Because I hate seeing you walk around with all of that hanging over you all the time.”

“I’ll try.” Dean promised.

“That’s all I ask.” Then his father pulled him into a gentle hug.

Dean rested his head on the man’s shoulder and tried very hard not to cry. He wondered if the man he’d grown up with the first time around would’ve chewed him out for everything he’d done, including letting his guard down with his emotions right now. But then he decided that it really didn’t matter. That John didn’t matter. This was his dad. And his dad loved him and was supporting him. 

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, son.”

Just then the door swung open. They both separated to look over as Sam stepped into the room.

“Doesn’t anyone knock?” Dean complained.

“Sorry.” Sam shrugged. “I just… I was going to sleep in here tonight. You know, if it was okay with you.”

The boy was probably a bit shaken from earlier and he also was most likely wanting to be there for Dean. And the older brother certainly wasn’t going to turn him away.

“Of course, Sammy.”

Their dad stood up. “You know, you’re both getting a bit big to be sharing that bed every time one of you has a rough night.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, you _could_ get me a bigger bed. You know, a double instead of this crappy twin sized.”

His father gave him a look. “You’re seventeen and have a female friend that knows how to scale our house and climb in windows. _And_ don’t think I didn’t notice that those last couple of days that you stayed late at school ‘to study’ that you came back with lipstick on the collar of your shirt. So no, I don’t think getting you a bigger bed would be a good idea, Dean.”

Dean thought back to his ‘meeting’ with the cheerleader under the bleachers by the football field. He grinned. “Kill joy.”

“Good night, boys.”

Dean watched his dad leave the room. Then he settled back onto the bed.

“So, is everything okay with you and Dad?” Sam asked.

“Yeah Sammy. I think everything will be okay.” With a little time and effort Dean would be able to get the words from that morning out of his head and he was already concentrating on what his dad had just told him. So yeah, he was pretty sure that things would be just fine.


	204. Confession

Chapter Two Hundred and Four: Confession 

The Impala parked in a spot as close to the back entrance of the mall as they could get. Sam had picked that spot in specific, knowing that the benches there were mostly left open, unlike the ones up front where people often waited for the buses. So, when they arrived about ten minutes late, he knew that Josh and Chris would already be there waiting and would see the car pull in. Pretty much everything was being orchestrated and Sam would be watching his friend’s reactions. He was hoping that Chris had nothing to do with anything that had happened, but was preparing himself for the possibility that he was being used by the other boy just so that his family could be put in danger.

Sam got out and ran around to see if Dean needed any help getting out. Emily was hovering behind him. But the older boy managed to pull himself out of the driver’s seat without assistance. Sam saw the grimace of pain cross his brother’s face and felt bad for him. He was in rough shape, but had come out today to back Sam up because that was just the kind of person that Dean was. 

The boy glanced over and saw his two friends watching him. He turned back to his big brother. Dean had managed to straighten up completely, despite what must’ve been excruciating pain across his torso, and closed the car door. Sam offered him a smile and the three of them started off towards the mall. The younger brother kept his pace slow so that he wouldn’t get too far ahead of Dean, who was limping due to his bad leg.

When they reached the sidewalk that circled the mall, both of Sam’s friends stood. Their eyes were glued to the tallest member of the approaching group. Sam couldn’t blame them. Most of Dean’s injuries were hidden by his clothes, but he was holding his stomach with one arm and the stitches running down his face were very visible. 

Chris looked down, avoiding Sam’s eyes as Josh walked up to greet him.

“Holy… What happened to your brother?” He asked in what he probably thought was a quiet tone. Of course, Josh had yet to master the concept of the ‘indoor voice’. 

“Jumped by Cujo.” Dean answered.

Emily let out a short laugh. “I got that reference this time.”

Sam wondered when Dean had use that excuse as a cover before.

“Cujo?” Josh asked. “For real? Oh man, I hate dogs! And my brother is always like ‘they’re harmless, Josh. You’re just being a baby’ but this totally proves my point!” Then he seemed to reign himself in. “Uh… are you okay?”

“Hurts like all hell. Got stitches in my leg, stomach, and down my face. No rabies, though.”

Josh’s eyes were huge by this point, but Chris still seemed interested in the sidewalk. 

“You sure you’re gonna be okay, Dean?” Sam questioned. “You can go home now if you want. Maybe Mom can come and pick us up in a little bit.”

“Nah, I’ll be alright. Emily and I will just hang out for a bit and I’ll sit down in the food court if I get tired. And if I really can’t make the drive back home, she can take over.” He nodded to the girl standing by his side. 

“I’ll take good care of him.” Emily promised.

“Alright.” Sam gave his brother a gentle hug. Then he turned to his friends. “Well, let’s head in. I want to check out the bookstore first.”

“Sounds good.” Josh agreed.

The three of them headed in. As they walked down the aisle, Chris kept his head down and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was acting guilty as all hell. Josh on the other hand was his usual self, talking a mile a minute and gesturing wildly, almost smacking a few other shoppers. Sam rolled his eyes and pushed the brim of the other boy’s baseball cap down to cover his eyes.

“Hey!” He protested. “What was that for?”

“You need to calm down before you knock someone out.”

Josh shrugged as he pushed his hat back over his messy red hair. “Okay, so I got a bit too into my explanation. But the movie was just that cool.”

“Sure.” Sam shook his head. “So, what’d you do yesterday, Chris?”

“Nothing.”

“At all? You just stayed in bed all day?”

“Huh? Oh… uh, no. I just hung around the house. Boring stuff.” He pushed his glasses back up onto his nose and looked around. “Oh hey, there’s the bookstore.”

Sam watched him speed up to enter the store. Josh looked over at him.

“Chris seem off to you? ‘Cause he’s acting like his little sister flushed his goldfish down the toilet again.”

Sam chuckled despite himself. “Maybe that’s it.”

They checked out all the new sci-fi books and graphic novels. Chris picked out some Japanese anime book, Josh chose a Star Wars novel, and Sam found a Batman collected edition that he and Dean hadn’t yet read. His older brother had been reading comics with him ever since he was little and it was a tradition that he really liked. 

Afterwards, they checked out a music shop, a video game store, a science/discovery shop, and then the toy store. Sam noticed that Chris was relaxing the longer that they were away from Dean and no one mentioned him. The other boy still avoided eye contact with Sam for the most part, but was back to talking with his friends. So, he watched very closely as they rode the escalator down towards the food court. 

At first, everything was fine as the three boys approached the cluster of tables, but then Chris caught sight of Dean and Emily sitting and munching on some burgers and fries. He chewed at his bottom lip for a second and then went to start off in a different direction. But just then, Dean looked up and waved to them. Sam waved back.

“Hey guys, there’s my brother.”

“I still can’t believe he came out after getting torn up by a dog yesterday.” Josh exclaimed. “Seriously, my brother refuses to drive me anywhere even if he has a slight headache. Or if he’s tired. And both are his own fault because he’s always out partying with his loser friends.”

“Yeah well, your brother’s an ass.” Sam replied. 

Josh nodded. “Truer words have never been spoken. At least one of us has a cool sibling.”

“He’s not that cool.” Chris mumbled. 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“Well, let’s go over.” Josh suggested. “Looks like your brother and his girlfriend already got the food.”

“They’re not dating.” Sam corrected, but led the way over to the table. 

When they reached the table, Chris sat down in the chair furthest away from the older Winchester. Sam noticed that he was looking anywhere but at Dean. And apparently, the hunter noticed it too.

“So, what’d you kids buy?”

“I got a book and a new video game.” Josh offered, picking up a french fry and drowning it in ketchup. 

“I found us a new Batman graphic novel.” Sam replied, reaching for his burger. 

When Chris remained silent, but made no move to dig into his lunch, Dean prompted him to answer.

“What about you? You find anything interesting?”

“Uh… I need the bathroom.” The boy got up and took off towards the men’s restroom. 

Sam waited a second and then caught Dean’s eye. He nodded in the direction that Chris had just taken off in. His brother and him had decided that he’d call the shots on how to handle Chris since Sam knew the boy best and would be the one hanging around him that day. So he decided that it was time for a confrontation. Sam just hoped that he knew what he was doing. 

“You know, that’s a great idea. Gotta take a pee myself.” Dean announced, getting to his feet. He winced as he shifted onto his injured leg while moving away from his chair. When he wrapped his arm around his middle, Sam had his excuse to leave the table as well.

“Let me come with you, Dean. You look like you’re gonna drop.”

“I’ll be fine.” Dean offered as a token protest.

“You really want to go face down in the urinals?”

The teen made a face. “Fine, you can tag along.” He turned to Emily and Josh. “Don’t eat my fries while I’m gone.”

After receiving promises that his food would still be there when he returned, Dean headed off towards the bathroom with Sam right by his side. When they reached the men’s room, the older boy glanced in and then waited for the man who was washing his hands to leave. After that, he motioned for Sam to enter and placed the ‘wet floor’ cone in front of the door to signal that the restroom was being cleaned. After they were both inside, Dean closed and locked the door. 

It only took a moment for the toilet to flush and Chris to come out. When he saw them standing there, he looked startled and tried to make a beeline for the door.

“Shouldn’t you wash your hands?” Sam reminded him.

“What? Oh, uh… yeah.” The boy walked over and quickly rinsed his hands off and then dried them on his pants.

“So, you seem a bit jumpy today. Want to talk about what’s up?”

“Not really.”

“Too bad. Because I do.”

“Drop it, Sam.”

“What? Like you dropped those hex bags in my house?”

Chris’s eyes grew huge. “How… I mean, what are you talking about?”

“The thing I don’t understand is how you got into witchcraft.” Sam continued. “Or why you’d get involved with demons. Or why the hell you’d target me and my family!”

Now Chris stepped towards him. “I’m not into witchcraft! That stuff’s screwed up, man.”

“So the hex bags? Where’d you get them?”

He shifted uncomfortably, but this time didn’t answer.

“Let me take a wild guess.” Dean interrupted. “Whatever demon you are kissing up to gave them to you. Hot or cold?”

Chris looked down.

“I’d say ‘hot’, Dean.” Sam replied. “Demons are dangerous, Chris. If you’re making deals with them…”

“I didn’t bargain my soul, Sam. I’m not a moron.”

Dean snorted. 

“Dean.” Sam whispered. He agreed with his brother, but needed Chris to keep talking. 

“I’m _not_! But my family thinks I am. I dropped in all my grades last semester and if I don’t get my GPA up in high school, I’ll never get into the good colleges. And it’s _not_ my fault. I tried as hard as I could, but I just couldn’t keep up. So, I was at the library trying to get some studying in over the summer and this older girl came up to me and said that she could fix everything. I’d have the best grades for the rest of my school career. And yeah, she revealed what she was, but she told me that I could keep my soul if I just did her a favor.”

“Plant the hex bags in my house.” Sam finished. “But how could you?! We were friends, Chris.”

“I didn’t put one in your room, Sam! I made sure you weren’t gonna be hurt.”

“But my family…”

“Your dad’s an ass that yells all the time!”

“No… I mean, he’s got a temper, sure. But he never screamed at me or acted like a complete ass until _you_ screwed with us. And what’s your excuse for planting one for my mom? She’s the one that baked you cookies last year when you broke your arm. And what about Dean, huh? Take a good look. You almost killed him!”

“Well, maybe he deserves it!” Chris yelled.

Sam felt like he’d been smacked right in the face. “What? How can you even say that?”

“As long as I’ve known you, your brother is always hanging around you. It’s like you can’t even be your own person, Sam. He’s a bossy, controlling jerk and you practically worship him! Maybe you’d be better if he _was_ dead.”

Sam narrowed his eyes and stepped right up into Chris’s face. “Dean is my best friend. And you didn’t target him to help me at all. You did something that almost got a great man killed because you’re a selfish prick and now you’re trying to justify it because you know that you did something wrong. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t put a hex bag in my room because you _did_ hurt me. You made my father yell at me and my family and you screwed with both his and my mom’s heads. Then I had to watch as the brother that I love was ripped apart and almost died. And it felt like my entire world was ending.”

Chris had gone back to staring at the floor. “I… it wasn’t supposed to…”

“You didn’t even ask what the bags would do, did you? Because you didn’t care as long as you got what you wanted.”

“I thought it’d be okay as long as you were safe.”

“Then you’re a dumbass as well as a selfish prick.” Sam stated. He turned and stalked back over to his brother. 

Dean reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Look, Chris, despite what you may think, you screwed up. Big time.” Dean informed the boy. “Demons aren’t the kind of things that you want to get involved with. Now, I’m not sure whether or not they’re gonna hold up their end of the deal or not, or if their just gonna decide to tie up loose ends and take you out of the picture.”

“What?” Chris went pale as a sheet. “You think… no. Why would she come after me? I helped her!”

“Because, you moron, demons lie! Some stick to their deals. But if it wasn’t an actual cross-roads type of a deal…” Dean shrugged. “You’re screwed pal.”

Now Chris looked like he was ready to cry. Sam was torn between feeling bad for the kid and still being pissed at him. “But I don’t want to die.”

“Yet you had no trouble leaving my brother to die.” Sam pointed out.

“I didn’t know anyone would really get hurt. Okay, I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. I was desperate and, yeah, selfish. And I’m sorry. But please, Sam… Dean; you guys seem to know about this stuff. Can you help me?”

“If you tell us who you made the deal with.” Dean responded.

“I don’t know her name. But she had long blonde hair in a braid and her eyes turned black and she was really pretty… for a demon, I guess. She was older than Dean, but not old.”

“Sounds like Meg.” Dean commented.

“Does she know witchcraft?” Sam inquired.

“Not that I know of.” His brother replied. “But we know she’s in play and is after us.” He sighed. “I guess there’s someone that I can ask. I really had wanted to keep him out of it, but we need answers.”

“So, what about me?” Chris asked.

Sam looked at Dean. He was still really upset at Chris but he didn’t want to see the boy harmed.

“Well, I can tell you how to protect yourself from demons,” Dean began. “But you’ll be safest once I gank the demon chick that you made that deal with.”

“And will you?” Chris wanted to know. “I mean, I almost got you killed. How can I be sure that you won’t just let the demon kill me?”

“Because Dean’s not like that.” Sam spoke up. “He’s a hero.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Dean promised. “But no more talking with demons. You cross that line again and I cannot keep you safe.” Then he stepped towards the boy. “And if I find out that you ever do anything else to hurt my little brother, demons will be the last thing you’ll have to worry about. You understand me?”

Chris nodded, looking terrified.

Dean turned and unlocked the bathroom. Before he went to follow, Sam glared at the other boy. 

“And just so we’re clear; our friendship is over.” Sam snapped. “We’ll be in contact later today with the info you’ll need.”

Then he went after Dean, slipping past the three guys that were pushing past to get into the now open restroom. 

It was upsetting to think that his friend had betrayed him and that demons were so close to harming their family. But at least he knew that he’d always have Dean to watch his back.


	205. Meetings and Messages

Chapter Two Hundred and Five: Meetings and Messages 

Dean stood back and waited for the summoning to work. He had no doubt in his mind that Crowley would show. He was just a bit unsure whether or not it was a good idea to be out here in the middle of no where contacting the King of the Crossroads by himself to admit that he needed the demon’s help. Not that he was going to word it that way, but still. And it wasn’t like he was unarmed. He’d brought the Colt with him. And Sam knew where he was and had instructions to tell his parents and Cas if he didn’t call in every hour. Dean wasn’t taking any chances. Still, he wasn’t overly thrilled with this whole thing. But it was far more likely that Crowley would give him information if he came out here alone. And Dean also didn’t want to drag any of his family into a potentially dangerous situation if it turned out that the deal-making demon had anything to do with recent events.

“Dean Winchester; requesting a meeting with me out here all by yourself under the cover of dark. A fellow might get all sorts of wrong ideas.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned to face the demon. “Put the innuendo away, Crowley. The only thing I want you for is your information. You know, the part of our deal that you have yet to make good on?”

“Our deal? You mean where you were supposed to help me take out any threats to myself?”

“Yeah, that’d be the one. And since my family and I took out Alastair a year ago, I think it’s about time for you to pay up on your end.”

“If you’d recall, I popped in with a warning for you about Alastair…”

“About ten seconds before he kidnapped and tortured me.” Dean finished. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

Crowley shrugged. “Not my fault if you’re too slow to react.”

“Look, we can spend the night going back and forth with really witty dialogue, but let’s face it; we both know that I’m far more clever than you. So let’s cut to the chase; what happened after tall, dark, and sadistic kicked the bucket? Did you manage to take control, or not?”

“Well, the answer’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Crowley.”

“What?”

“Just answer the damned question.”

 

“Nothing wrong with a little foreplay…”

“There is if you have nothing to deliver afterwards.” Dean shot back.

“You calling me a tease?”

“Crowley!”

The demon sighed somewhat dramatically. “Fine. I tried to take control. But it seems like there’s a few too many Lucifer-loyalists still around. Now Hell’s divided. Some are looking for a new regime; led by yours truly. But others cling to the notion that their caged-up lord and master can still be set free.”

“And who is leading that party?”

“I believe _you_ named her Meg.”

Dean shook his head. “No. No way does she have enough power or sway to get other demons to follow her.”

“No she doesn’t. But her campaign speech is that she’s got someone more powerful that is backing her.”

“Who?”

“Like they’d tell me! I’m the opposition, you moron!”

“Oh forgive me for thinking that you’d be cunning enough to figure out the information. I’ve obviously overestimated you.”

The crossroads demon made a face. “Don’t play that game. I’ve tried sending in spies. I’ll find out eventually. But it has to be someone big to get the demons backing a regular black-eyed demon with no extra-ordinary abilities.”

“Speaking of which, do you know if Meg or any of her buddies practice witchcraft?”

“Interesting question. And the real reason behind this late-night encounter, I’d imagine. Am I correct, scar-face?”

Dean resisted the urge to reach up and touch the stitches running down the right side of his face. “What do you know about it?”

“Just that there was talk about using some magic against your family.”

“And you couldn’t be bothered to pass that information along?”

“First off, I don’t work for you. Second, I found out after the fact.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re useless.”

“Far from it. Because I know who handed those nasty little baggies over to your buddy, Meg.”

Dean crossed his arms. “Are you going to tell me? Or is this more unnecessary buildup?” 

“Some ex-witch down there known as Ruby.”

Dean felt his eyes widen. Ruby. There was a name that he could’ve gone his entire life without ever hearing again. But he should’ve guessed. Ruby had told him that she’d been a witch and he knew that she was committed to releasing Lucifer. There was no reason that either of those things wouldn’t still be true.

“So, this Ruby chick made the hex bags, gave them to Meg, who made a deal with my brother’s friend, who placed them in our house.”

“Sounds like baby brother needs a better brand of friends.”

“Yeah, well, at least he’s not the one out here talking to a demon.”

Crowley placed a hand on his own chest. “You consider us friends? I’m flattered.”

“Cut it. Look, do you know if Sam’s friend is in any danger?”

The demon gave an evil smirk. “Hoping he gets a little payback?”

“What? No! I’m not a sadistic ass like you.”

“I knew you were flattering me.”

“Crowley!”

“If he made good on his end, chances are he’s safe.”

“You don’t think Meg will try and kill him to tie up loose ends?”

“To what end? He already spilled his guts to you? Too late to clean it up now. I’d wager she didn’t care if you found out. I think it’s you that best watch your back, not little Judas-boy.”

Dean nodded. “I guess.”

“So, if there’s nothing else… there are people out there calling that actually have deals to make.”

“If you hear anything… and I mean anything at all…”

“I’ll send you a love letter, Dean.” With that, the King of the Crossroads vanished.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Everything had been quiet for the rest of the summer. In September, school had started back up and the Winchesters had gotten into their new routine. Sam had to admit that while he was enjoying being in high school, being away from his brother for so long five days a week pretty much sucked. The boy would sit in class and imagine all the horrible things that could be happening. Because they hadn’t yet caught up with the demons that had caused all the problems for their family. Even though fall had melted away into winter, which had passed into spring without incident; Sam was still wary. 

So, when the final bell rang, Sam grabbed his backpack and practically ran for the exit. He hopped down the steps and went to leave the school grounds. The boy waved to Josh as the other kid got on the school bus. They were still friends but neither had hung out with Chris since Sam had explained that he’d called Chris out on cheating at school in the bathroom that day in the mall, and that they’d had a nasty falling out where the other boy had insulted both Sam and Dean and had said that he’d wished that the older Winchester had died in the dog attack. Josh had been appalled by the cover story and had sided with Sam. Sam hadn’t really been looking to break up their friendship, but had needed some excuse for why he wouldn’t be hanging out with Chris anymore.

Sam started walking down the sidewalk towards home. His mom had been on a job with Cas and the Harvelles since the previous day and his dad was still at work until the evening. Dean wouldn’t be getting home from KU for another two hours, so that left the boy with the options of the school bus or a thirty minute walk back to his house. While it wasn’t warm summer weather yet, it was still nice enough for a walk, which made it a much better choice than the crowded, rowdy bus.

When he reached his house, Sam let himself in and tossed his bag down next to the dining room table. He had a bit of homework, but it was Friday, so he had all weekend to get to it. For now, the boy was going to get himself a snack.

Sam grabbed a banana off the counter and peeled the top half. He took a huge bite as he strolled over to the phone. The light indicating that they had a message was blinking. Without a second thought, the boy pressed the ‘play’ button.

As he listened, Sam felt his heart pick up speed and his blood run cold. When the message finished, he rewound the tape and played it again. Unfortunately, the words remained the same.

Sam immediately tried to make a call, but it went straight to voicemail. 

In a panic, Sam almost called his mom. But then he remembered that it wouldn’t be smart to call her cell phone while she was on a hunt as it could compromise her safety. He could, however, call the Roadhouse and see if they’d gotten back there yet.

“Hello?” A voice on the other end answered.

“Uh, yeah, hi… Is Bill or Ellen Harvelle there?”

“I’m sorry, they’re not available right now. Can I take a message?”

Damn. They must all still be out. The voice belonged to a retired female hunter that would watch the bar and Jo when the Harvelles would go hunting. But Sam highly doubted that the woman would know when any of them would be getting back.

“No thanks. I’ll just call back later.”

He hung up the phone and started pacing. This was not good. Not good at all. Sam wanted to do something. Anything. But he couldn’t by himself. He was just barely fourteen and not the best trained hunter in the world. Not even close. But the best hunter in the world _would_ be home soon.

Just over two hours later, the front door swung open and Dean barged into the house. He flung his worn out bag down next to Sam’s. The younger boy knew that the hunter was a bit upset about being left out of the hunt that Bill and Ellen had called their mom and Cas in on, but Dean had had an important test that day and couldn’t afford to miss his class. 

“What’s up, Sammy? Something wrong?”

Of course Dean would pick up on it. Then again, Sam was certain that he wasn’t hiding his anxiety very well. 

“When I got home, I checked the answering machine. There was a message.”

“Okay…” Dean prompted.

“Dad’s missing. He never showed up for work this morning, Dean. But we know he left and his truck’s not outside and his cell phone goes straight to voicemail. I think something’s wrong.”


	206. Search for Clues

Chapter Two Hundred and Six: Search for Clues

Dad was missing. Dean had to work to control the emotions that shot through him at Sam’s announcement. He couldn’t afford to get upset by the news, however. He had to remain calm and think this through. Dad would be counting on him if something had gone wrong. 

“Did you get in contact with Mom?”

“No, she’s not back at the Roadhouse yet.”

“Did you talk with anyone else?”

Sam shook his head. “No. I mean, I thought about calling Bobby or Pastor Jim, but I knew that they couldn’t do anything from where they were and that you’d be home long before they could get here.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, yeah that makes sense.” He thought it over. “Well, we know that Dad left home early this morning, but never made it to work. So, the first thing we’ll do is get in the car and drive the route that Dad takes to work. See if we see anything. Okay?” He was definitely taking his brother with him. If something was going on, there was no way that Sammy was going to be left alone. 

Sam nodded. The boy seemed relieved. Dean could imagine the amount of sheer panic he’d been in waiting for his brother to get home. Hell, he himself remembered what he’d felt like in the original timeline when their dad had disappeared and Dean had been alone.

They got out to the Impala and Dean double checked that the trunk was well-stocked. When he was satisfied, he climbed into the driver’s seat and they started off towards the garage that their dad worked at. Dean kept a look out for anything suspicious and knew that Sam was doing the same.

“Dean!” Sam cried out about fifteen minutes into their drive, and just as the hunter’s eyes had spotted the same exact thing.

There was a pickup truck pulled off the road and left abandoned. A very familiar pickup truck. Their father’s. 

Dean pulled over and parked behind it. He pulled a gun out of the glove box and handed it to Sam. Dean himself was carrying the Colt. No chances were being taken. 

They got out of the Impala and walked over to the truck. Dean opened the driver’s side door. Nothing seemed out of place and the keys were missing. Dean climbed in and checked the glove box. His dad’s gun was gone. 

The hunter hopped out and started to circle the vehicle. When he got to the front of the truck, Dean saw that there was a set of tire tracks in the soft dirt. He knelt down to examine them.

It had rained the night before, so the young hunter was willing to bet that whatever vehicle (and it had been a smallish car with worn out tires) had been parked here had done so early that day. And as Dean continued to investigate further he saw a woman’s shoe prints near a man’s. The man’s started from his dad’s truck (and they were the right size and shape… work boots… to be his dad’s) and went over to the tire tracks. The woman’s started there. They both went to the passenger side of where that car would have been. Dean looked over a spot where the dirt seemed to be extremely disturbed and saw blood.

Crap. That didn’t seem to be good at all.

“Is that blood?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it Dad’s?”

“I don’t know.” Dean admitted. “But I’d guess that he was attacked here. Or else he would’ve contacted us.”

“What about the woman that was here?”

Well, give Sam points for observation. “Either she’s the thing that attacked him, or something that doesn’t leave footprints attacked them both and took her car.” Dean explained.

“So what do we do now?”

Well, that was a damned good question. Everything pointed to the fact that something had taken their dad. There was no trace of sulfur and it was unlikely that an angel would drive off in a car. So that ruled out demons and angels. It was good news, but it left the question of what would take their dad. It wasn’t like he’d been working a case.

“Well, let’s see if his cell is in the truck. Maybe there’s some message or something on it. We can also try to call the Roadhouse again. If Dad _did_ see something on the side of the road that made him pull over, he might’ve called it in to Mom. Just as a precaution.”

They walked back to the truck and another search revealed that their dad’s phone wasn’t there.

The brothers got back into the Impala and Dean pulled out his cell phone. He dialed the number for Bill and Ellen’s bar. 

After a few rings, the call was picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is Bill Harvelle there? Or Ellen?”

“No, I’m afraid that they’re not in right now. Is there any message?”

Dean bit his lip in thought. “Yeah, you know what, this is Dean Winchester. My parents are out on the hunt with them right now.”

“Oh, hey Dean. This is Lauren.” Yeah, he’d recognized her voice. He’d met her years ago the first day he’d ever set foot in the place in this timeline. She’d taken a moment to talk with him when he’d been hanging out sitting on a pool table after he’d helped the Harvelles. As it turned out, she lived in the area and frequented the place and would later babysit Jo when her parents were both out hunting.

“Well Lauren, do you know if my dad called earlier?”

“Not that I know of. Why? Was he supposed to?

“No. No, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. Is everything alright?”

“Hope so. Look, have my mom call when she gets in, please.”

“No problem, Dean.” There was a muffled voice in the background. “Hey, Jo wants to talk with you. That okay?”

Dean really wanted to go so he could figure out his next move, but Jo was practically family. Besides, maybe if his dad had actually called but Lauren hadn’t been the one to pick up, the girl would’ve heard something. After all, she was quite the eavesdropper. 

“Sure, put her on.”

There was a pause and the sound of the phone changing hands. Then Jo’s voice came on.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Jo. What’s up?”

“Wait a sec. I’m going into the back.” Dean tapped his foot impatiently. “Alright. Sorry, I wanted privacy. I mean, Lauren is nice and all, but she thinks I’m over-worrying, which is just stupid, ‘cause she’s a hunter, or she was, and hunters should know all the stuff that can go wrong on a hunt and I just wish she’d take me seriously but she won’t and if she hears what I’m saying she’s gonna start in with her whole ‘Jo, you nee to stop worrying’ lecture again, and I really don’t need to…”

“Jo!” Dean cut her off. The girl had been rambling and Dean needed some straight answers. Especially since it sounded a hell of a lot like Jo thought that something had gone wrong on a hunt. 

“What? Oh… sorry. I got carried away. I’m just worried.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that. Why? What happened?”

“Well, as you know, my parents were on a hunt with your mom and Cas and my mom was calling in every couple of hours and then she just stopped. And her last call, she said that they were there and that they’d be home soon. But that was last night. I haven’t heard from her since. This isn’t like her, Dean. My parents always call to check in on me. They wouldn’t go this long. Lauren says maybe they don’t have phone service, but Mom said they’d be back soon. And that was right before a confrontation. It doesn’t sound good, does it?”

No. It didn’t. Especially not combined with the fact that his dad had just gone missing. 

“Do you know what they were hunting?”

“No. They don’t tell me. My mom is still trying to shelter me. Stupid, right?”

“Actually, yeah. I agree at this point. But right now, we need to focus on figuring this all out, okay? I need you to look around there and try to figure out what the job was. I’ll try to find out too.” Damn. Now he really wished he’d pressed his mom for details before she’d left with Cas. But he’d gotten the call while on the way to school and hadn’t had much of a say in anything. “And Sammy and I are gonna drive out there to try and help. We’re gonna find them, okay?”

“Okay, Dean. Thanks.”

“No problem.” He hung up the phone. Then he dialed a different number. “Hey, this is Dean Winchester… yeah, I know. That’s what I’m calling about. My dad didn’t make it in today ‘cause on his way in he saw some lady off the side of the road that was having car troubles and he tried to help. I don’t know exactly what happened, I think it was some freak thing with the electrics or something, but my dad got hurt bad. Anyways, I’ll call back when I have more info… Yeah, thanks… You know, there is something you can do. His truck is still off the side of the road. If you can send someone to go and pick it up? … Thanks a lot… Yeah, I will.” After giving directions to where his dad’s truck was to the guy, Dean hung up. “Well, Dad’s covered at work, and his truck will be alright. But we have much bigger problems to worry about.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asked. “You told Jo we were going out there. Why? Are Mom and Cas okay?”

“They’re missing too.” Dean admitted, feeling his stomach sink at saying those words. It was bad enough that his dad had disappeared, but if something had happened to his mom as well… And if it was something that could take out an angel, well, that was _not_ good. 

“So something is targeting our family? Is it the demons again? Meg maybe?”

“There’s no sign of demons here.” Dean mentioned as he started up the Impala and pulled back onto the road. “It’s possible that they have someone or something else working with them, though.”

“If it’s demons, they’ll come after us too, won’t they?”

“I won’t let anything get you, Sammy.”

“I know, Dean. But I want our parents to be alright too.”

“They will be. We’ll get them back.” Dean promised. “You know, it might not be demons at all. Mom, Cas, Ellen and Bill disappeared first. It could just be connected to their hunt. We’ll know more when we get to the Roadhouse.”

“Okay. Well, let’s go. We’ve got a hunt to get to.” There was a very familiar determination in Sam’s voice.

Hell, as Dean glanced over at his brother sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala and then back to the road in front of him, he had to admit that the whole scene was damned familiar. And despite the urgency and fear that he was feeling, the scene wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was wondering, Lauren is the unnamed lady that speaks to Dean way back in chapter 39.


	207. What We May Be Up Against

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break between chapters. I've been very ill. But now I'm back and hopefully on schedule.

Chapter Two Hundred and Seven: What We May Be Up Against 

John woke up in pain. A lot of pain. He tried to move to figure out where he was injured and how severe his wounds were, but his throbbing head and foggy brain slowly informed him that he was tied up. And that he couldn’t see a damned thing because a blindfold was tied tightly around his eyes. Well crap… that was probably not a good thing. Because there wasn’t a single scenario that came to mind that explained this and wasn’t terribly bad. 

The hunter tried to focus on why he was in this condition. He remembered some lady and a car and her saying that she had to get home to get her son to school in time but that her engine had died on her. John had popped the hood, but hadn’t seen anything wrong. He’d turned towards her and then… then, she’d hit him in the head with a frickin’ tire iron. And she’d been incredibly strong. Maybe not human…

Okay, so that was why his head hurt so much. And if he fell to the ground, he probably bruised something along the way. And his body was achy from being tied up and lying on this hard floor for God knew how long. But John knew that he couldn’t just continue to lie there. Someone or something had taken him. And he doubted that it was for anything good. As far as he knew, this wasn’t how Publisher’s Clearing House contacted their winners to give out prizes.

John tested his bonds to see just how tight they were. The rope that was tying his hands behind his back and bound his feet together was strong and gave absolutely no room for him to maneuver. There was no way he’d be able to get free of his bindings. 

Still, the hunter groaned as he shifted around to try and get into a position where he’d be better able to defend himself if whoever or whatever had taken him came back in the room. You know, provided they weren’t already in there watching him this whole time. Because that was a comforting thought. 

“Ah… damn it.” John grunted as his head spun and a wave of nausea hit him hard.

“John?”

He recognized the voice. “Mary?”

“John, what are you doing here?”

“Someone attacked me by the side of the road this morning. Well, at least I think it was this morning. I have no clue what time it is. Or where I am now. Are you alright?”

“I’m tied up and blindfolded, but mostly unharmed. As I’m assuming you are as well. Ellen and Bill are here too. We were attacked and taken on our hunt.”

“Your hunt?” John tried to remember where they’d been going and what they were supposed to be hunting. 

“Yeah, Cas and I went to help them take out a nest of vampires yesterday.”

“So what happened?” John questioned. “Did something else get the jump on your group? Was it demons? Because that would explain why they’d come after me too. And I’m assuming they were able to somehow restrain Cas, or he’d have made it back home.”

“Well, they claim to have Cas held prisoner somewhere here too, but I didn’t see him taken down. Since you say he never made it back, I’m going to guess they were telling the truth, though. We were hoping that they’d lied about that part.”

“They?”

“Yeah… they’re not demons, John.”

“You sure?”

“Damn sure.” Bill’s voice broke in to the conversation.

“Then what’s got us?”

“The vamps we were hunting.” Ellen responded.

“Vampires? But… but that makes no sense. Why would they take the time to come after me too? And how could they take down Cas?”

“I don’t know.” Mary replied. “But they definitely are vampires.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes. Because they’ve already come in here to feed on us.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam looked up from all the notes and clippings that he’d been reading over to stare at his brother and the young girl next to him.

“It looks like vampires.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Dean concurred. 

“But that makes no sense.” Sam continued. “I mean, okay, maybe vamps could get the jump on Mom, Bill, and Ellen, but no way they could take out Cas. And then why would they go after Dad? It just doesn’t add up.”

“Well, maybe something surprised them during the hunt.” Jo suggested. “Like, what if demons came after them? Or angels?”

Dean shook his head. “No trace of demon activity at all. And I doubt the angels would’ve bothered to take your parents. Or the car from where my dad was taken.”

“So what are we thinking?” Sam wanted to know.

“I’m thinking that I want to know more. We should trace the hunting party’s steps. Carefully.”

Jo nodded. “Great, I’ll get ready and we can…”

“You’re not coming.”

“What? But my parents…”

“I know. And I know that you want to help them. But you’re untrained.”

Jo looked indignant. “My dad taught me to shoot.”

“And that would be awesome if we were going up against an easy opponent. But at best we’re facing off against vampires and guns are worthless. I doubt your dad taught you how to decapitate your enemy in as few blows as possible?”

Jo shook her head.

“Yeah, I doubted it. And if we find out that I’m wrong and demons or angels are involved…” He let that hang in the air.

“I still want to help.”

“You will. Stay here. We’ll need someone to man the phones. If any calls come in from our parents, I need to know immediately. And since we’re keeping this quiet from your babysitter…”

“She’s _not_ a babysitter! I’m too old for a babysitter!”

“…We’ll need someone here that knows the score. Also, if we don’t check in regularly, you’ll need to contact Bobby and let him know what’s going on. You’re our last line of defense, Jo.”

She made a face, like she wasn’t completely sold and Sam prayed that Dean’s words sunk in. He didn’t want their friend following them and getting herself killed 

“Okay. I guess that makes sense. But before you go, I have something that might help if it _is_ vampires.”

Sam and Dean followed her through the backroom where they were holding their little meeting and over to a chest. She opened it up and dug through until she pulled out a small wooden box. She handed it over to the oldest boy.

Dean opened the object up. “Sweet.”

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“Dead man’s blood.” Jo replied. “I figured Mom and Dad would take some of it, but we always keep a bit back here.”

“Thanks, Jo.”

Sam made a face. “How exactly do you guys get dead man’s blood?”

“Best not to ask.” Jo shrugged. “’Cause truthfully, I don’t want to know.”

“I’d wager from dead men.” Dean put in. “But that’s just a guess.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “So, I think we have what we need to start looking. I mean, we know where they most likely went.”

Dean nodded. “Yep, and we should head out now. No use wasting any more daylight.”

“Please be careful.” Jo requested. “I don’t want you guys disappearing too.”

“We’ll be fine.” Dean promised.

Sam followed his brother out of the back and through the bar. Lauren was wiping down the tables and she smiled over at them.

“Is everything alright? I told Jo not to worry, but I have to admit that even I’m getting concerned about the lack of check-ins. I mean, it’s not unusual if they’re in the middle of something and can’t make a call, but still…”

Dean shrugged. “Well, everything seems like a normal hunt situation.”

Sam knew that Dean didn’t want to give away any information just in case something was going on and the woman was involved. It wasn’t likely, though. Lauren wasn’t a close friend or anything, but had been around the bar for a long time and obviously the Harvelles trusted her. But that didn’t mean that Dean was going to tell her all their plans. 

“Okay, that’s good. Sorry you guys came all the way out here for nothing. You want to hang around until your mom and uncle get back?”

“Nah, I got a project for school that I gotta get done this weekend. Shoulda brought the damned thing with me.”

Sam wasn’t sure if that was a complete lie or not. Dean was doing well in his classes, but several nights he’d gotten up to find his older brother sitting at his desk at three or four am to finish something up for one of his college courses. Of course it wasn’t like Dean could actually do any of his work out on a hunt.

With a wave and a ‘good bye’, the two brothers left the bar. They walked over to the Impala and climbed in. After buckling himself in, Sam turned to face Dean.

“So, where to next?”

“Well, according to the notes, they’d tracked down two likely places that the vamps could be hanging out. I say we drive by the areas and see if we can find any trace that they were there.”

“Like an abandoned car?” Sam mentioned, his mind going back to his dad’s truck. He was getting really nervous. It seemed like his family was getting picked off. Who would be next? Was Sam going to be dead before the day was through? Or would he be left behind with no family? Either option was like a punch to his gut. No, he wasn’t going to think like that. Dean and him were going to figure this out. They’d save the others and end this. 

“Well, if it’s the same thing that took Dad, it’s possible that the car will be left behind here too. If not, we need to look for smaller clues. Either way, we’ll find something.”

“I know. But…”

“What?”

“But what if the thing finds us first?”

“Than we kick its ass and get our family back.”

Sam smiled. Dean seemed so sure of himself that it made the boy feel better about this whole thing. 

They drove out to the first site on their mental list that they’d made from looking over the notes on the case. Dean pulled the car over and they both got out. 

A quick investigation revealed that a car had been parked there about a day or so ago. And it had been leaking anti-freeze just a little bit. Bill’s car. Sam looked around anxiously for any sign of a struggle or any blood. He didn’t find anything. And he was relieved when Dean agreed with his assessment. 

Next they headed over to the old farmhouse that had been the place that had been suspected of being the vampires’ nest. But it didn’t take long for the boys to determine that it had been abandoned long ago and that no one, human or supernatural, had moved in.

So, they left and headed on towards the second possible spot. Now Sam was more nervous. There had been two places on the list. And no one had been at the first. So, if something was going to happen, it very well could happen at their next stop.


	208. The Old Farmhouse

Chapter Two Hundred and Eight: The Old Farmhouse 

Focusing past pain wasn’t easy, but Mary struggled to do it as the vampire bit into her arm and greedily began to drink up her blood. She knew that he wasn’t going to kill her; they’d already said earlier that all the captives were going to be kept alive as long as possible. But still, having her blood sucked out of her was painful and terribly invasive. But the hunter tried to ignore it all and think up some sort of plan.

The vamp had freed her of her bindings to get at her arm, but fighting back wasn’t really an option. First off, her ankle was broken from when the vampires had ambushed their group earlier. And second, there were two others in the room that were ready to attack if she so much as twitched wrong. They’d found that out earlier when Bill had tried to defend his wife. Now they all decided it was best to behave until they had a plan and a chance in hell of escape. Because further injuries were no help to anyone. And neither was getting killed. 

The vampire pulled away and Mary’s arms were tied back up. She grunted in pain and resisted the urge to kick out at him with her feet. But then she heard him step away.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked.

“Because you’re delicious.” He replied, his voice smooth and cocky.

“Yeah, I know why vampires feed on humans. Because you’re disgusting monsters. I meant, why did you guys bring us here.”

“To feed on you. And make it last as long as possible.” There was a slightly creepy chuckle at the end of his sentence. “Kind of like bringing home groceries.”

“Which would make perfect sense… but you were prepared for our group. For Cas.”

There was silence for a moment. “I was a boyscout a long time ago. Our motto is ‘be prepared’.”

“For angels?” Mary scoffed.

“Why not?”

“Because they are way more powerful than your kind. You should’ve avoided confrontation.”

“We obviously won.”

“Yeah, you did. But how? And why?”

“We’re a strong and very well prepared nest. You made a huge mistake coming after us.”

“I didn’t come after you at all.” John cut in. “ _You_ came after _me_. Care to explain that?”

“We wanted a complete set.” That laugh again. 

“Do you even _have_ any answers?” Ellen questioned.

“Plenty. But none that you’re getting.” 

Mary heard him walk from the room, followed by the other vampires.

She shook her head. “Imagine that; a bad guy that doesn’t like to hear himself talk.”

“Not helpful for us.” John responded.

“Well now that they’re gone, we can try to get free.” Bill suggested.

“Tried.” Mary replied. “But unless your ropes are looser or weaker than mine, it’s not going to happen.”

“So what’s our next move?” Ellen voiced what they were probably all thinking.

“We try to figure out more about our surroundings and get more information from our captors.” John replied.

Mary nodded, then realized that since everyone was blindfolded, the gesture would go unnoticed. “If anyone thinks of a plan, we’ll discuss it quietly and take it from there. But we can’t take too long. If they keep taking our blood, eventually we’ll be too weak to fight back.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel sat in the ring of holy fire and held onto his still-bleeding chest. The vampires had had an angel blade. And holy oil. That was unexpected. And unfortunate since he now found himself injured and trapped in this basement. 

He heard the vampires walking around upstairs. There were a lot of them. More than a typical nest. More questions.

But, as of yet, no one had come down to talk with him and give him any answers. He was being held prisoner, but the reasons were unknown. Castiel had the distinct feeling that none of this was about him at all. 

But it wasn’t about Mary, Ellen, or Bill either. Because if it were, then they would’ve just killed Castiel. So maybe it was a trap for Dean… but why? And if they wanted Dean, why not just get Dean? Why all of this? And how did they know about angels?

Castiel tried to put all the questions out of his mind. They wouldn’t help. He needed to concentrate on getting out of there and helping the others.

The angel tried to stand, but the long, deep slice that started at his right hip and went all the way to his calf protested the move. Okay, perhaps he needed more time to heal. Hopefully he’d get that time. Because he wanted to be fighting shape when he next saw the vampires. He’d find a way to defeat them and then rescue his family. He just needed to figure out how.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean sat in the parked car far enough away from the next location to hopefully remain undetected. He looked over all the supplies that Sam and him had between them. A tranq gun and several darts filled with dead man’s blood, a machete, and the Colt. If they were truly just up against a nest of vampires, they would be set. But if it was something more… Well, the Colt would take out demons. And they each had a small bottle of holy water. If it was angels… well, then they were screwed. Their only hope at that point would be that they would find Cas and that he’d be alright enough to get them all the hell out of there. 

“Here, Sammy, you take the Colt and the tranq gun. I got the machete.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. If it’s vamps, use the dad man’s blood first. We got more of that and it’ll make it easier for me to behead them. Stay back and away from them. If it turns out to be demons, drop the gun and go for the Colt immediately. If it’s angels, get the hell out.”

“Dean… why would vampires be after our family?”

“I don’t know. If it turns out to be vamps, I’ll be sure to ask one before I remove its head.”

His brother nodded and shoved the Colt into his pocket.

They both got out of the Impala and proceeded towards the direction that they knew the next location to be in. It was another long abandoned farmhouse (jeez, how many of those were in this area?) and it sat on a few acres of over-grown farmland. Dean and Sam made their way carefully through the dead plants and weeds and tried to stay out of sight of anyone that might be keeping watch. 

When they were a bit closer, Dean spied Bill’s car sitting out in the middle of nowhere. He nudged Sam and pointed it out to the younger boy, but they kept their distance. There was always a chance that the vehicle was there as a trap and there was no way that the hunters were falling for it.

The boys circled around, staying to the darkest shadows and keeping aware of their surroundings. Dean held his machete at the ready, aware that no matter how careful they were, their opponents could attack at any moment.

But they made it to the farmhouse without incident. Dean motioned for Sam to follow him, not wanting to split up and risk losing his brother too, and then started off around the back of the old building. 

Dean peeked in a window and saw six guys sitting around playing cards and drinking. They seemed unarmed. The room had once been a kitchen, but now held just an old refrigerator and a table and chairs. As he watched, two women entered and went up to the guys. They seemed to talk about something and then one of the chicks left, while the tall blonde sat in one of the dude’s laps. 

Okay, eight people so far. 

He moved off to the next window. A bedroom. With a guy and a girl in bed together. Not sleeping. Moving along…

The count was up to ten.

Next window revealed a living space of some sort and it was filled with people. Three were on a couch, chatting. One sat in a chair, playing some sort of hand-held game. Two played on a really old, crappy pool table. One lounged on the floor, back propped up against the couch, drawing in a sketch pad. And two were making out in the corner of the room.

That brought the total up to nineteen. Wait… no, only eighteen. One of the people on the couch was the chick that had briefly stepped into the kitchen area but had then left.

Still, that was a hell of a lot so far. And he hadn’t checked all the rooms yet. Or the attic. Or the basement.

He quickly moved to the next window and peered through. And felt his heart come to a complete stop. 

In the room, he saw his parents and the Harvelles tied up and blindfolded. They were spread out and lying around the floor and they were all injured and bloody. Dean could see head wounds on each of them, his mom’s left foot was bent out in an awkward position, Bill’s shoulder was obviously dislocated, and there were bite marks on their arms. They had been fed on. The vampires were _dead_. Each and every one of them.

Dean motioned for Sam to keep following as he walked to the final window. A bathroom. Thankfully empty. Because he did _not_ need to see a vamp taking a dump.

The hunter went back to the previous room and pulled out his pocket knife. He used it to jimmy the lock open. Not hard considering how old the damned thing was. Dean then very carefully lifted the window into an open position. He winced as it made a slight screeching sound. The teen ducked down, dragging his brother with him, to remain out of sight in case anyone came to check.

Nothing happened. That wasn’t right… but even if it was some kind of trap, Dean wasn’t going to just stay out here in fear of a confrontation while his parents were inside; injured and being used as vampire food. 

He got back to his feet and climbed into the room. He saw that everyone in the room had taken notice of his arrival, but no one had said anything. Dean turned back to help Sam in. When they were both in the room, the older brother used hand signals to instruct the smaller boy to watch the door while he attended to the adults.

Dean went to his mom first, and quickly removed her blindfold. Her eyes widened upon seeing him.

“Dean!” She whispered. “You shouldn’t be here. It might be a trap.”

He nodded to show that he understood, but moved around her to cut the bindings from her hands. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to complete that task when four guys started to enter the room.

“Vampires.” His mom confirmed.

Sam aimed and fired the tranq gun, and the first one dropped. Dean got his mom’s hands free and then picked up the machete he’d placed on the ground and moved to join his brother. He trusted his mom to use the knife to release her own legs and then help the others. Dean needed to back Sam up. Because the four that had come in were just the beginning. As he reached his younger brother’s side, Dean saw that practically the entire household of vamps were headed towards them.


	209. Down in Flames

Chapter Two Hundred and Nine: Down in Flames 

Dean swung the machete again and felt the blade slide through skin and muscle just to connect with bone. He jerked it back and out and went back for the same spot. The second blow took the vampire’s head off. 

The monster that had been about to grab onto him from behind suddenly dropped. _Thanks, Sammy_. But then Dean heard the tranq gun drop as well. Damn. That meant that they were out of the dead man’s blood. A moment later he heard the Colt go off. With no extra bullets, Sam wouldn’t have many shots with it.

Dean risked a glance over his shoulder to see that his parents were both freeing the Harvelles. 

“Sam! You know what to do!”

His brother was to get the others to safety and retreat _before_ he ran out of ammo. Dean didn’t want anything happening to Sam if he could prevent it. The older brother would stay as long as it took to cover for the others. And find Cas. Because he wasn’t leaving anyone behind.

Just then, he was knocked to the ground by a blow to his head. Dean blinked to try and clear his vision and felt someone, his dad, helping him to his feet. The hunter kept a firm grip on the machete throughout the whole incident, however. He wasn’t about to lose his only weapon.

“You okay, Dean?”

“Yeah… get to the window. You all need to get out.”

“Dean…”

“You’re hurt. _Mom’s_ hurt. Please just do it, Dad.”

Dean felt his father move away from him but he kept his gaze on the approaching vampires. There were a lot of them. Too many. 

The hunter moved fluidly back into the battle. He kicked one opponent back and away while decapitating a female vamp that had a thin neck. Then he turned to face the next. That one took two blows. By then, the one he’d kicked had gotten back to him and had brought a buddy with him. Dean sidestepped and smashed one in the face and brought his blade around and into the neck of the thing that was closest to him. The angle was all wrong though and the machete got stuck in the vampire’s collarbone. 

Before he could pull it out, one of the evil son’s of bitches grabbed him from behind. Damn it. Dean brought his head back, smashing the creature’s face. He heard it cry out, and the vamp’s hold eased just a bit. The hunter twisted and slid out of the grasp. He scrambled away and, now weaponless, headed towards the window where his family and the Harvelles were getting ready to escape. Maybe Sam still had some bullets in the Colt and Dean could…

But then there were four vampires right outside the window and their group was surrounded. Even if Sam had a couple shots left, they were screwed.

“No where to go now, huh?”

Dean faced the vampire that had spoke and shrugged. “Who says I want to be anywhere but here?”

“Oh, so you _wanted_ to be surrounded and captured by me and my nest.”

The hunter chuckled. “You mean, you and what’s left of your nest? ‘Cause I think you’re down by quite a few assholes now.”

The guy looked around at the carnage that surrounded them, then back up to Dean. “True enough. And that’s rather impressive. A couple teens rush to the rescue and only sustain a couple bruises and scrapes, yet manage to take out a dozen vampires. You should be proud. As should your parents. You really _are_ destined for great things.”

“Well, I’m flattered. Really. But, I just don’t swing that way. The whole human/vampire relationship crap only works out in really douchey novels.”

“Funny too.” The vampire nodded. 

“So what, you went through all of this just to meet me?” Dean wanted to know. “Was it worth losing more than half your rather large nest for?”

“Completely.” The vamp agreed. “I mean, you are the stuff of legends, Dean Winchester. I’d lose everything to have this moment. And besides, recruiting followers is no trouble at all. Believers flock to a good cause.”

“Believers? Cause?” Dean made a face. “What the freakin’ hell are you talking about?”

“Oh… is this the part where I give away my whole plan while you try to figure out a way out of your predicament?”

“Sounds good to me.”

The dude laughed. “I’m sure it does. But I’ll pass. For now, all you need to know is that I’m aware of your destiny and we’re very interested in the outcome of certain events.”

“My destiny? My destiny is to chop your ugly head off.”

The vampire let out a long-suffering sigh. “Tie them up. All of them. Then you can feed on the adults. Take as much as you want.”

Oh, hell no. 

Dean waited until two vampires were close to him and then he slammed his hand up into the underside of one of their jaws. It stumbled back slightly and the young hunter took the opportunity to rush past him and jump the one that had been standing towards the back, holding the machete that it had pulled out of its collar bone. Dean tackled it to the ground, hearing the Colt go off as Sam gave him cover. The vamp was weakened by the massive injury Dean had inflicted before and the teen had no problem wrenching the weapon from its grasp. He finished the job from before but then felt someone shove him to the ground and the machete was pulled from his hand. Crap.

“Nice try.”

“Wait until you see my next trick.”

“What? To bring about the apocalypse?” Dean remained silent. “No smart remarks for that? Do you even know your destiny? You must… too bad you’ll never get to fulfill it.”

“What?” Dean grunted as the vampire that had been pinning him to the floor jerked him up to his knees. “You’re making no sense, man.”

“Well then, you either _are_ dumb or you’re _playing_ dumb. But still, you’re not ending the world while I’m around.”

Dean scoffed. “So, you’re the _good guy_ now?”

“No, but I sure as hell don’t want angels and demons having their apocalypse while I’m trying to live here and drink you humans dry. My existence depends on them not succeeding in their plans.”

“So… you guys are a what? Vampire end of the world cult? I’ll make sure not to drink the red Kool-aid.”

The guy laughed. “Oh you’ll drink it. And you’ll love it. Because becoming one of us is the only way that this world doesn’t end.”

“What the hell?”

“You said it. Hell. You need to go there to start the apocalypse. If you’re one of us, you never go. Even if you die. And the world keeps on spinning.”

Dean looked around, feeling a bit disconcerted. How the hell did a vampire know any of this? In any case, he really didn’t want to do the whole vampire thing again. It sucked out loud the first time.

“You read all that on a fortune cookie?”

“I learned it all from a demon.”

“Demons lie.”

“Not when they’re in your body. Possessing you. Riding you like you’re their little bitch and taking your body all over this goddamned world. I was its host for years. And I heard it in my head. I know that they want this world to burn. And I heard your name. More than once. And I know they need you in Hell for some reason. Then it left and I was dying and just my luck a vampire found me. And now here I am.”

Dean stared at him. He’d been possessed. And probably by a demon close to one of the higher-ups if he had heard that info. And if he knew how to capture angels. 

“Have you considered the fact that you’re just nuts?”

“Perhaps.” The vampire allowed. “But better safe than sorry.”

Dean saw the other vampires moving to restrain his family. He was running out of time. “But why go through all of this? If it was me you wanted why…”

“I’m not stupid, Dean. I watched. I waited. I listened. Your family looks out for one another. And you seem to get to places a bit too quickly. Now, going by what I knew of Hell and Heaven, I figured that you were getting help. So, I said to myself, ‘what would happen to me if I swooped in and grabbed up the kid?’… Answer; I end up like all your other opponents. That wasn’t in my plans.”

“Well, your plan still sucks.”

“Really? Because from here, it looks like I won.”

“Remember that when you’re roaming around in Purgatory, asshat.”

The vampire rolled his eyes and grabbed Dean by the hair, jerking his head to the side. “No more talk.”

Dean tried to struggle, but the vampire’s grip was damned strong. He tensed up and readied himself for the pain of the fangs tearing into his throat. But suddenly, there came a commotion from below. A scream.

“The angel.” One of the vampires stated. But the scream hadn’t been Cas’s. 

“Go check on him.” The vamp holding Dean ordered.

Two vampires left the room and the others started to look a bit nervous. Dean tried once more to break away from his situation, but the dude holding him hadn’t let his guard down one bit.

“Let’s get on with this.” The vampire commented. 

Dean felt the thing’s hot breath up against his neck, then another scream came from below. The creature holding him didn’t react this time. Well, not until a shot rang out in the room. Then he released Dean and fell to the floor. Dead. 

The young hunter moved back and looked over at his brother. Sam was holding the Colt. The other vampires seemed to be in shock that their leader was dead. Dean used that moment of surprise to snatch up the machete (just as he was assuming that Sam had used the distraction of the scream from below to shoot the head vamp).

He charged at the vampires and decapitated the one closest to him. Dean turned to face the next when suddenly a small explosion from downstairs caused him to lose his footing. Then the floor collapsed from under him. 

Dean grabbed onto the floorboards and found himself hanging above a basement almost completely filled with fire. He glanced down and while he saw three vampires burning down there, there was no sign of Cas.

The teen pulled himself up and crawled carefully away from the huge hole in the floor, hearing the floor creak beneath him. They had to get out. Now. Dean had no clue what had set off the small first explosion, but he’d seen some fuel tanks down there and if the fire reached them or the temperature got too hot…

The hunter looked and saw that the vampires, the very few left, had already fled. His parents and the Harvelles were trying to make their way towards the window, which was the quickest escape route. But they were all suffering from blood loss and concussions and various injuries. And Dean’s mom couldn’t walk with her ankle broken. Dean noticed that his dad was trying to support her, but he himself could barely walk straight due to the head injury. This was not gonna be easy…

Dean darted forward. “Okay… let’s get out of here. I need someone who’s mostly okay outside to help the others out and away from here.”

“I got it.” Ellen volunteered. 

Dean nodded. He watched the woman carefully climb out. Then his father went next to help the rest climb out. Dean had gone over to support his mom while Bill was helped out the window by the others. The man groaned as his injured arm was jostled and almost collapsed on the other side.

“Cas is out here!” Dean’s dad yelled. “He’s bleeding and burned, but still alive.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He had no clue what had happened to the angel, but it was one less thing to worry about. 

But his relief was short-lived when more of the floor gave away and Sam was suddenly falling. Dean let go of his mom, trusting that she’d support herself on the wall, and threw himself to the floor. His stomach scraped the rough wood but he ignored the pain and focused on grabbing his brother’s hand as the smaller boy made a futile grab for the edge. Dean’s fingers wrapped around Sam’s wrist and the boy let out a cry as his shoulder was violently jerked. Dean watched as the flames leapt up and licked at his little brother’s pants, as thought the fire were a hungry monster and Sam were its meal. Hell no.

Dean reached down with his other hand and grabbed Sam’s shirt and hauled the boy back up. By then, his brother’s pant leg had caught fire, and Dean pulled his over-shirt off and used it to smother the flames. 

The hunter stood and gathered the boy in his arms. He carried him over to the window and maneuvered Sam out and into Ellen’s arms.

“Get him away from here! I’ll get my mom out and…” But then there was an explosion from behind and Dean was thrown half out the window.

He felt the heat scorching his back and his head was ringing. Dean tried to lift his head only to hit it on the window… Oh yeah, he should choose whether to be in or out before standing… Why was he in the window? Why was it hot? Fire… fire… MOM!

Dean pulled himself back into the room and spun around. The entire room was burning. And most of the floor was gone. And all he could think about was his mom on the ceiling burning to death when he was four years old. Dean looked around desperately for her.

“Mom!”


	210. In The Fire

Chapter Two Hundred and Ten: In The Fire 

The fire burned hot around Castiel as the angel had sat on the floor of the basement. Actually, he was on some sort of flame-resistant blanket that was spread out on the old wooden boards that had been put in place many years before over the dirt floor. The circle of holy oil was burning brightly on top of that. The vampires obviously didn’t want their hideout burned to the ground. 

Castiel looked around and saw a few small fuel canisters and some larger tanks pushed far away from the flames. There was a generator to the far left. A shelf with assorted junk food on the right. Nothing helpful.

After a while, the angel heard something going on upstairs. It was a fight of some sort. He wished he were there. He wished he could help in some way. But no. Castiel was down here; trapped and injured. Useless. 

A moment later, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Someone was coming. Castiel tried to get to his feet once again. No luck. His leg was still bleeding badly. But he focused on conserving what energy he had. He’d spent enough time with the Winchesters to know that you didn’t have to be at one hundred percent to be able to fight and win.

Castiel watched as the vampire approached. The angel hung his head, curled himself up a bit, and tried to appear even more injured and weak than he actually felt. The monster came right up to stand a few feet outside of the ring of fire. 

“ _You_ are an almighty angel of the Lord?” The guy shook his head. “Not impressed.”

“What’s going on up there?” Castiel asked.

“Nothing that concerns you. But I was sent down here to keep an eye on you and to finish you off when I get the word.”

“So… you are the least important vampire in your nest then.” Castiel stated.

The guy scowled at him. “I was given a very important task.”

The angel looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Baby sitting an almost dead prisoner while a fight rages on upstairs… Yes, I see now how very important you are. Thank you for correcting my misinterpretation.”

The vampire got angry. “You know nothing! And your opinion of me doesn’t even matter because soon enough I’m going to get the word and you’ll be dead. By my hand.”

Unfortunately, as mad as the thing got, he moved no closer to Castiel. Well, there was more than one way to proceed with the plan…

The angel took his attention (well, most of it) off of the vampire and started to focus on the fire-resistant material under him. Castiel picked at it and pulled at a worn spot in the fabric. After a moment, it gave way with a rather loud ‘rip’. The angel smiled and started to yank at the hole, increasing its size. 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“Hey! Stop that!”

Castiel looked up long enough to give the vampire a look that told him exactly what he thought of _that_ particular order. Then he went back to fiddling with the material beneath himself.

“I said, stop…” 

But as soon as the vampire’s hand reached over the flames and snatched the angel’s wrist, Castiel yanked him down and onto the flames, cutting off the rest of the order. The vampire let out a scream, but Castiel ignored it as he crawled over the creature’s body. The escape route that had worked with Meg all those years ago was still just as effective.

Except this time Castiel was injured and didn’t have much energy. 

He heard footsteps in the stairs. That wasn’t good… the angel looked and saw that he was near the side of the room that had nothing but a small fuel tank. Not helpful. He’d have to try and use what energy he had to teleport out of the house. Then maybe he could think of some way to help the others. Or perhaps they’d already helped themselves…

And then there were two more vampires in the room and the one that had been in there with him grabbed the burning blanket up (screaming in pain again as it burned its hands) and started towards him. Castiel was unsure if the vampire meant to try and trap him again or wished to burn the angel with the holy fire. Either way, he really didn’t want to stay around to find out. 

Castiel pushed himself back a few more feet, trying to finish gathering up the energy he’d need, but then he bumped into the wall next to the fuel canister and he knew that he couldn’t stay. 

The vampire with the burning blanket threw himself at the angel and Castiel focused and felt the world shift. It was hard. Much harder than usual and the landing was rough. Castiel found himself outside the farmhouse, sprawled on the ground, gasping in agony as he heard an explosion. The stupid vampire must’ve caught the old fuel tank on fire. And it wouldn’t be long until that whole place went up. Castiel needed to get everyone (that wasn’t a vampire) out of there.

The angel struggled up and was almost on his feet when he realized that the world had gone black. He wasn’t going to succeed. He never even felt his body hit the ground. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean felt the heat of the fire against his face as he frantically looked around.

“Mom!”

No response. No… no, she couldn’t be… not like this… not like this. Dean fought through the panic and childhood flashbacks that were threatening to consume him. He darted forward and into the burning room, breathing in the smoke and choking it back out.

The hunter’s eyes burned from the smoke, the soot, and his own tears, making his vision blurred. But still, Dean made his way to where he’d last seen his mom. She’d been propped up against the wall while he’d been getting Sam to safety. But now that area was hidden behind a wall of fire. Dean saw that there appeared to be space between the flames and the far wall. Which meant that there was still a chance that his mom could be in there and still be alive.

Without further thought, Dean ran at the fire, dropped to the ground, and rolled through. It hurt. A lot. And it was at that moment that he realized that in the explosion earlier, his back had been burned and it chose that moment to speak up through the rush of adrenaline. But Dean ignored it and got to his knees. He was singed, but relatively okay. Nothing was going to salvage his clothes however…

He got to one knee, coughing quite a bit, and looked around. And saw his mom.

She was lying on the ground, partially buried under some ceiling debris. And her shirt sleeve had just caught fire. 

Dean hurried over and pulled his t-shirt off (and damn it all, the stupid thing had glued itself to the burns on his back and it freakin’ hurt to yank it off!). He quickly smothered the flames before they could spread and further injure his mother. Then he started to remove the debris from her unconscious body. 

By the time that he was done, he felt dangerously light headed from lack of fresh, clean air. And he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to carry his mom out of there. He couldn’t go back the way he came…

Then the portion of the burning floor right in front of him gave away and crashed down into the basement. Dean scurried backwards, away from the new hole in the floor. There actually wasn’t much floor left… And what there was was very unstable.

Dean pulled his mom’s body up onto his shoulders, crying out in agony as she brushed up against his burned back and he strained that very sore area. But he sucked it up and turned to face the broken floor. 

The hunter took a deep breath and ran a couple of steps and leapt. He collapsed on the other side and grunted from the pain and effort. The wooden floor echoed his groan and Dean knew that he had no time to rest. 

He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his mom under her arms, and started for the window. Dean’s trip was filled with pain, tears, and choking and then Ellen was there, taking his mom from him. For a moment Dean panicked and tried to scream for her to give his mother back to him, but a coughing fit overtook him and the world spun.

The next thing he knew, Ellen was coaxing him out into the fresh air and pulling him away from the fire. The fire… his mom… was she still in there???

“Mom…” He tried to choke out.

“Dean, come on, we have to get away from there.”

“Mom…” He tried to fight, but he was exhausted and sweaty, and could barely breathe and his back hurt and he needed his mom.

Then there was a very loud explosion and he saw the whole farmhouse go up in flames. No! Was his mom still in there? Had he just lost her? Dean tried to pull away from the person who was holding onto him, but then he toppled over and everything went dark.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam had watched in horror as his big brother had disappeared into the burning house. He wanted more than anything to get up and run in there after him, but his burned leg was hurting him and, even if it wasn’t, the boy knew that he could never help to pull his taller, heavier brother and his mom from there. Still, it was killing him to remain where he was when his family was in danger. And he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“John, no!” Bill ordered. “You have a severe concussion and can’t even walk straight. If you get inside, you’ll most likely burn to death before you find your way back out.”

“My wife… my son…”

“Wouldn’t want you to die!”

Sam agreed. But that didn’t stop him from not wanting his brother or his mom to die. 

He saw Ellen by the window.

“Do you see them?” He called.

She shook her head. Sam tried not to panic at that response. Maybe they were alright but the woman couldn’t tell because there was too much smoke. 

“Please be alright, Dean.” Sam whispered.

But it seemed like forever of waiting and worrying and the boy was just about to say _screw it_ and try to go in and do something… anything… when he saw Ellen go partway into the farmhouse just to come back out moments later carrying his mother with her.

“Mom!” Sam couldn’t tell whether or not she was alive. 

Ellen brought her over to their group and laid her down in his father’s lap. Sam could see that her arm was burned and she was covered in soot and she was unconscious… but she was breathing. That left him to worry about only one person.

“Dean… what about Dean?”

“I’m going back for him now. He’s right by the window. He’s okay.”

Sam nodded. Dean was okay. Dean had rescued their mom and he’d be alright too. But if he was really okay, why did Ellen need to go back for him? Why wasn’t he coming out on his own?

Sam looked between his mom and the burning house. Ellen went back in and Sam found himself holding his breath. _Please please please please please please please please…_

And then the hunter was climbing back out, awkwardly half-pulling/half-dragging Dean. Sam’s brother was shirtless and clearly out of it, coughing and stumbling. They didn’t even make it all the way over to Sam when there was a much larger explosion than any of the preceding ones and the whole farmhouse seemed to be consumed by the flames. Sam couldn’t get past the thought that he’d come so very close to losing his brother to that. And Dean… Dean must’ve been so scared of losing their mom to a fire again.

Then Dean collapsed.

“Dean!”

Sam was crawling towards him before anyone could think to stop him. When he reached his big brother’s side, he saw that Dean’s back was burned, and he could hear that the older boy’s breathing sounded terribly strained.

“Is he alright?”

Ellen sat down next to them. “He’s got some burns and inhaled a lot of smoke. He also seemed really confused. He kept fighting me and asking about his mom even after he got her out.”

“Yeah, he probably thought she’d die in there.” Sam ran a hand through Dean’s dirty hair. That must’ve been Hell for his brother.

“Sam… there was something more to…”

“I can’t tell you.”

“After all of this, after we all almost died, _someone_ is going to tell us _something_.”

Sam looked up at her. “Maybe. But not while I’m sitting here, holding onto my brother, who I almost lost. And not while he’s probably in pain and slightly traumatized. So, let’s just get ourselves patched up and take it from there, okay?”


	211. Healing and Secrets

Chapter Two Hundred and Eleven: Healing and Secrets 

They stopped at the first motel that they came to. Everyone was in need of medical attention and the driving situation wasn’t really all that great. Ellen was driving the Harvelles’ car, with Bill in the passenger seat and Cas lying on the backseat. Dean and Sam’s mom hadn’t woken yet and their dad couldn’t see straight due to his concussion, so Sam had volunteered to drive the Impala. His older brother had been teaching him a bit and he felt confident enough, particularly since it was his left leg that was injured. Still, he didn’t want to go very far. Especially since, while the backseat was big enough for his parents (with his dad sitting and his mom lying down), Dean was curled up in the front bench seat with his head resting just inches from Sam’s thigh.

When they reached the motel, Ellen checked them in, renting out two rooms, and then they all struggled to get everyone inside. 

Dean was laid gently down on one of the beds and Cas in another. Sam watched as they got his mom settled into the bed in the adjoining room. The Harvelles were taking the room with his parents. 

He reached out and stroked his hand though Dean’s hair. The boy didn’t like the sound of his brother’s breathing at all. It was far too strained. 

“He’ll be okay.” Ellen informed him. “Bill called the doctor we go to on the way here. She knows about the business and doesn’t mind making late night house calls. She’ll be here within the hour.”

Sam forced a smile. “Dean goes to a doctor like that. Wonder how many there are?”

The woman shrugged. “Not sure, but I’m grateful there’s at least a few.”

The youngest Winchester nodded. “Me too.” He responded, looking down at his brother.

“And you’ll have to get that leg looked at while she’s here.” 

Sam nodded again. Truthfully, while his leg was in constant pain, he was trying his best to ignore it. He was far from the most injured and wanted Dean and his mom looked at before he was. And everyone who was held captive needed to be treated for blood loss. And his dad had a concussion and Bill had a severely dislocated shoulder. There was probably nothing that a doctor could do for Cas (did angels need medical attention when injured?). 

He stretched out on the bed next to his brother. Dean was propped up on his side so that his injured back wouldn’t be touching the mattress. Sam held his hand and reached out to stroke his hair again. But Dean chose that moment to wake up. Violently. 

The older boy’s eyes flew open and he gasped and then choked. Dean thrashed around and rolled onto his back, making strangled sounds of pain as he did.

“Dean! Dean, calm down. Everything’s okay. You’re gonna be alright, just calm down. You have to breathe.”

“M… mom… I… n…need…”

“She’s safe, Dean. You saved her. You got her out of there. She’s going to be fine.”

Dean shook his head, tears rushing to his eyes as his choking worsened. He reached up, clawing at his throat with one hand and running the other over his still grimy face. Sam pulled him onto his side again and went to rub his back before eying the burns there. They weren’t terrible, but they had already blistered and would open if Sam’s hand brushed them too hard. 

Then the door had opened and there was an older woman rushing towards him and Sam was being pushed aside.

“Hey!” He protested. “That’s my brother, he needs…”

“He _needs_ medical attention.” She snapped. 

Sam watched as the woman quickly looked Dean over and then hurried away. A moment later she was back, strapping an oxygen mask around the teen’s face and ordering him to take deep breaths. Sam saw that the mask was attached to a small portable tank. Dean was shaking his head and fighting.

“Dean, she’s trying to help. Please, calm down.” His brother turned to him and after a moment, he nodded. There was still panic in his eyes, but the hunter settled down a bit and breathed in, only to cough right after.

“Keep breathing.” The doctor instructed. Then she opened up a bag she’d brought in and started treating Dean’s back. Aside from the occasional wince or cough, Dean didn’t react at all. He just lied there staring at Sam.

When she was done, the doctor turned her attention to Sam. “Let me take a look at that leg.”

The boy shook his head. “No, the others first, they’re hurt more.”

“I’m standing here now and it’ll take me all of five minutes or less to wrap that up. Besides, your brother keeps looking at you rather anxiously, I think he’d feel better if you were taken care of.”

Sam looked at Dean who nodded.

“Okay.” He consented.

She was right. It took no time for her to cut off his pant leg and treat the burn. Then she was off into the other room.

Dean reached out and took his hand. “You… ‘kay.”

“Yeah, Dean. I’m good.”

“Mom… you said (cough) she was… alright?”

“Yeah. She’s resting in the other room.” Sam didn’t tell Dean how hurt she was. The important thing was that everyone had made it out alive.

Dean nodded and closed his eyes, breathing in the oxygen. “Cas? Dad said…”

“He’s fine too. Hurt but he’ll be okay. Everyone will be okay.”

After that, they were both quiet for a long while. Sam heard the doctor lecturing Ellen on choosing better hunts and Ellen arguing with her. After a long while, the motel door open and then closed. Sam wrapped his arm around Dean gently and buried his head under his brother’s chin. After everything that had happened, he fell asleep in no time at all.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean woke with a start. He hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. Sam was curled up next to him, still sleeping soundly. Everything was quiet. Dean moved and his back cried out in pain and the oxygen mask on his face got pushed into an uncomfortable position. Wait… oxygen mask? Why…

Then it all hit him at once. The farmhouse, the vampires, the rescue attempt, the fire… 

Dean almost panicked but then remembered that Sam had told him that everyone had made it out. And Sam wouldn’t lie about that. Still, Dean needed to see for himself.

The young hunter sat up, discarding the oxygen mask on the pillow, and glanced around the room. Besides himself and Sam, the only other person in the room was Cas. 

Dean let out a small cough as he climbed from the bed. His back gave a twinge of protest and the pain made him groan. The rest of his body felt like it had a sunburn, and when he looked over his shirtless torso and saw the reddened skin, he realized that that was pretty accurate. Oh well, it could’ve been so much worse.

Dean walked the short distance to where the angel was sleeping. Sleeping. Cas was sleeping. Well, that wasn’t a good sign. 

“He’s getting better.” Ellen’s quiet voice informed Dean.

“I’m assuming your doctor friend didn’t check him over?”

“No, I noticed that some of his wounds were already beginning to heal and didn’t feel like putting up with any unanswerable questions. So, I just tossed the blanket over him and told her that he was fine but exhausted.”

“And she believed you?”

“Doubtful. But she knows better than to push.”

Dean nodded. He walked past the Ellen and into the other motel room. He felt like he could finally breathe again when he saw his mom lying in one of the beds, sleeping peacefully next to his dad. 

“How is she?”

“She’ll be alright. Broken ankle, burned arm, a few stitches in her head, some bruises, and blood loss. But nothing that can’t heal. Thanks to you. You do know how foolish it was to go into the fire to get her, though, right?”

“I’d do it again.”

“Yeah, I figured.” She motioned for Dean to sit down but the look on her face told him that there was a confrontation coming and Dean decided that he’d rather be standing for that. Ellen sighed. “So… you seemed pretty freaked out when I went to help you out of the farmhouse…”

“Uh… yeah…” Dean stretched the word ‘yeah’ into three syllables. “I was in a burning building that was about to explode. Not a calm situation.”

“You were calling out for your mom.”

He shrugged. “So? She’d been in there too. I got scared that she still was. I wasn’t up to one hundred percent. Sue me.”

“It’s more than that, Dean. It looked less like you were just frightened and more like PTSD. Not surprising since you’ve seemed just this side of PTSD since I first met you.”

“I lived a hard life.”

“Well, your reaction combined with all the stuff the vampire said got me thinking… and it really would be nice to get a straight answer from you for once.”

Dean smirked. “Wow… so, Ellen Harvelle is badgering me for answers about myself. Huh, it must be a day that ends in ‘y’.”

“Dean…”

“I’ve told you why I can’t…”

“Yeah, to keep us safe. Did we look safe back there? Whether you like it or not, we’re all being pulled into this crap with or without your answers.”

“Remember two years ago?” Dean countered. “Remember what happened to me?”

“Alastair. Yeah, that’s hard to forget.”

“I was tortured all that time for the answers that I know. Alastair… hell, all of Hell _and_ Heaven want those answers. And what happened to me is just a fraction of what they’ll do to get them.” He looked around at all the wards in the room before sighing. “But you’re right. You guys are in this too deep and if you have any hope of keeping your heads above water if the worst comes, you need at least some answers. But, _I_ do the talking, okay? You interrupt me or freak out or anything, and I shut the hell up and you have to deal with not knowing. Got it?”

Ellen nodded, although she now seemed a bit nervous. 

Dean tried to figure out what to say. “So uh… you know Cas is an angel. But what you don’t know is that the reason he’s in hiding is because he’s from the future. And he came back to change stuff. So, I guess it’s an alternate future now. But yeah… Anyway, when he came back in time from the year 2012 he brought my soul with him. And put it in my four year old body. And I’ve grown up here, changing crap along the way to prevent the apocalypse that the demons and angels both want. And that’s about it.”

Ellen had a shocked expression on her face. Dean had no clue what she was making of all the info he’d just dumped on her. Or if she was even processing it. “Dean…”

“So yeah, anyway, I’m gonna lie back down with Sammy; who I know is awake and only pretending to be asleep at this point.”

“Dean.” He turned to face her. “This future… it wasn’t good, was it?”

“No. I mean, my mom died when I was four. Killed by a demon in our house, and our house was burned to the ground. Life after that was… not great. And by the time Cas took me back here, it was too late to save the world. Crap had just piled up far too high.”

“What about my family?”

Dean bit his lip. “By now, Bill was dead. And… when the apocalypse started up, so many people died. Everyone died. I’m sorry.”

Ellen looked devastated for a moment. “But you said that you changed things…”

The hunter nodded. “Yeah, that’s why the demons are on my ass. We knocked the apocalypse way off track and they’re not happy about it. So, they’re all still trying to end the world and we’re trying to stop them.”

The woman nodded. “I knew there was something off about you… you were just always far too… _old_.”

“Maybe I was just mature for my age.” 

“Wait now, I _never_ said that you were mature.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks. So… now you know.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m going back to bed.” Dean turned his back to her and climbed onto the mattress next to Sam.

A moment later he heard Ellen leave. 

“You didn’t need to tell her.” Sam spoke up quietly.

“I know, but she’d never stop asking. And I couldn’t risk alienating them trying to keep it quiet. Besides, it’s not like keeping my mouth shut was doing much to protect them.”

“What do you think’ll happen?”

“Well, first Dad and Mom will kick my ass for telling without talking it over with them first. But after that, I don’t know. But right now, I’m too damned tired to care.”

With that, Sam put his arm around Dean and the older brother returned the embrace. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to once again take him over.


	212. A New Old Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! But my computer was... the day before I was going to post, my computer died and took my almost completed chapter 212 with it. So, I sent the computer off to a tech necromancer and finally got it back! Unfortunately, while the computer was alive once more, my chapter stayed dead... so I rewrote the whole damned thing yesterday to get this out to you today.

Chapter Two Hundred and Twelve: A New Old Mission 

Summertime was awesome. No college classes to worry about. Just family stuff and hunting. And occasionally stressing out when Dean contemplated what his schedule would be like when the fall rolled around. But for the most part, there was a lot less pressure. And a bit more time to relax. 

Relax. It was weird. There hadn’t been anything close to the word ‘relax’ in his vocabulary when he was eighteen the first time around. Dean’s days had been filled with taking care of Sam, research, training, and hunting. The most relaxing thing he’d ever done back then was when he’d spend time at the bars playing pool for cash (hoping that his fake ID held up to scrutiny) or the fleeting moments he and Sam would get when they’d go against Dad’s orders and fire off fireworks or sneak into a theater to see a movie. But to spend a day just hanging out by a lake with Sam, fishing and goofing off, and to know that they had no where else to be and nothing else to do, and that tomorrow could be the same if they chose… yeah, that was like Heaven. And like, _good_ Heaven; not ‘being chased by a douche-bag angel intent on having you sign up to be a vessel’ Heaven.

Dean reached into the cooler next to him and pulled out a beer. He was always careful not to drink to the point of becoming dependant on the stuff. No need to go down that road this time around. But a beer every now and then wouldn’t hurt. And he was only two and a half years shy of being legal to drink.

“Dean?” Sam spoke up from his spot right next to his older brother.

“Yeah?”

“You got any hunts coming up?”

“Nothing this week. Late next week I got a salt and burn going down. Nothing strenuous.”

Sam nodded. “Good. I don’t want you getting really hurt again.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m doing fine now, Sammy. My back…”

“Still looks like hell.” His baby brother finished. “And since my leg is still sore every once in a while, I know that your burns must bug you a bit sometimes too.”

“I’m more used to this crap than you.” Dean shot back, once again cursing the fact that he’d allowed his brother to be harmed on that damned vamp hunt. 

“Being used to pain and not being in pain aren’t the same thing.” Sam pointed out.

“Close enough.”

His little brother just shook his head. Then he changed the subject. “I know we ate the stuff in the cooler already, so are we going home for dinner or are we eating out?”

“I figured we’d stop somewhere to eat.”

“Cool.”

“But hopefully by then we’ll have some more fish to bring home for Mom to cook for dinner tomorrow. ‘Cause I don’t think…” Dean was interrupted by his phone going off. He’d brought his cell with him, but told his parents to only call if it was an emergency. Not sure what to expect, but hoping it wasn’t anything awful, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone. “Hello?”

“Dean?”

“Pamela?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s up? Are you alright?” A dozen scenarios (none pleasant) ran through the hunter’s brain.

“Yeah, I’m fine… but I need to let you know about something that you asked for me to watch out for.”

“Yeah…” A really bad feeling started to grow in his stomach.

“I got a call from one of my friends and he said that that Anna girl you wanted me to keep an eye on is in trouble. Well, _going to be_ in trouble.”

Damn it. After he and Cas had decided that they’d make certain that Anna had a better fate this time around, they’d made sure that someone always had an eye on her. For the past few years, it had been Pamela or one of her contacts. And everything had always been quiet. So much for that. “What kind of trouble?”

“Nothing good and it’s definitely _your_ kind of thing. My buddy had visions of the girl scared and in pain. He said that he saw blood and shadows of wings. So…”

“Crap.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Any clue on a timeline?”

“Soon, but he didn’t exactly see a calendar or anything.”

“Got it. Thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem, Dean.”

The hunter hung up and turned to Sam. “Sorry, break’s over. We gotta pack up.”

“What’s going on? Is Pamela alright?”

“Yeah… it’s Anna.” Dean waited to see Sam’s reaction. He had a feel for some of the memories that his little brother had been in. It was weird… there were times that he could almost remember interacting with this Sam in his other timeline. Strange. But Dean also knew that Sam had been through a bunch of other memories and hadn’t made any contact with the memory-Dean in them and so he wasn’t sure exactly what his brother knew until the boy told him. Over the last couple years, they’d both shared their experiences (Dean leaving out some of the more traumatic details) but when things like this came up, the older brother still needed to test the waters to figure out how much Sam knew and how he’d react.

“I saw her… she was a girl that we were helping but then she was an angel…”

“Yeah. Well, actually it’s the other way around. Sort of. She was an angel before we ever met her. Then she was a girl. Then she was an angel again. And now she’s in trouble.”

“Oh… okay. But, aren’t we trying to avoid getting involved in angel stuff?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, but we can’t leave her or the angels will kill her for sure. And she’s just a little girl right now.”

“Hey, I totally agree… but have fun selling the idea to Mom and Dad.”

And it _was_ a tough sell.

“Dean, we cannot go up against angels to save another angel.” His dad insisted after Dean had laid it all out for them.

“I already explained, she’s not an angel not right now. She cast off her grace and…”

“But you said that in the other timeline you gave her her grace back.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. But that was only after the angels had us cornered.”

“And then she went back in time and tried to kill us.” Dean’s mom added.

“Anna was… she wasn’t the same after the others…”

“You understand our problem with getting involved?” His dad inquired.

“No. No, I don’t. Right now, there is a small girl out there that is _not_ an angel. She has no grace, no memories of being an angel, and shouldn’t be judged by what happened in another timeline.”

“But you want to…”

“I _want to_ keep her safe and _not_ make her have to go back to being what she didn’t want to be.”

“What?” His parents both looked at him in shock.

“Anna left Heaven because she hated being an angel. She never wanted to go back to that life. You weren’t there. You didn’t see her face or hear her voice when she realized that she’d have to take her grace back and go back to that life. If we can find a way to keep her safe this time without making her go back…”

“But you said that she’s in danger.” His dad reminded him.

“Yeah, but we’re not sure why yet. Uriel isn’t around this time. Things are all different. There could be a chance.”

“And we should take it.” Sam backed him up.

Cas finally spoke up. “I failed her the first time around. I refuse to do the same again.”

Dean nodded.

His mom sighed. “Well, we’ll need a plan.”

“I have one. Sam and I will go and contact Anna. We’ll try to see what, if anything, she knows and figure out what steps need to be taken to protect her. In the meantime, Cas is going to take Anderson to where Anna’s grace is. Without Uriel around to snatch it up, it should still be there. Another angel can’t extract it without possibly alerting Heaven, but Anderson sure as hell can. He’ll take it out and put it in a container where we can keep it safe from the rest of the angels.”

“And me?” His dad wanted to know. 

“You’re staying here.”

“What? No. I need to…”

“You need to be here. Mom’s ankle is still in a cast and if the angels figure out what we’re doing and decide to come after us through her…”

“I can take care of myself.” His mom interjected.

“Mom, please. Just… I need to know you’re safe.”

“She will be.” His dad promised. “But what about you boys? You’re both still healing and…”

“And we’ll be together and prepared. And I’ll call Cas for an immediate extraction if anything goes wrong.”

“Besides, we’re almost completely better.” Sam joined in. “And Dean and I have been practicing as a team for a while now. We got this.”

“Alright.” Their dad nodded. “If Anderson agrees to help.”

Dean nodded back. There was no way that the cop would turn his back on a young girl in trouble. They were definitely set. They’d just pack their stuff and hit the road. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Sam sat back in the Impala’s passenger seat and enjoyed the warm summer breeze blowing over his face as the car sped down the road. Sure he was worried about the upcoming confrontation (because, yeah, they weren’t going to get through this without at least one dangerous confrontation… Winchester luck and all that), but he really did enjoy these moments with his brother. They kind of felt like the old times that he’d never really lived through. Huh, that was one of the weirder thoughts he’d ever had. But it was true. Sam knew that Dean’s life before coming back had sucked and all, but the times he’d seen of his brother and ‘him’ in the Impala cruising from on hunt to another had looked like they’d been some of the most content ones Dean had had. And Sam got that. And he was enjoying being a part of it now. Sharing something that was so a part of Dean was special. And knowing that they were going to be saving a young girl who’d not gotten a chance before… yeah, he really got what drove his brother.

Besides, the wind blowing through his hair just felt really good too.

“So Sammy, you ready for this?”

“Should be easy enough… I mean, Anna’s only what? About thirteen? Maybe she could take _you_ out in a fist fight, but I’m sure that _I_ can handle her.”

Dean reached over and smacked him. “Really funny, geek-boy. What’re you gonna do? Bore your opponents to death by reciting your speeches from debate team? I mean, if I was an angel, I’d douse myself in holy oil and set myself aflame to avoid hearing _that_.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You know, this whole ‘Sam’s the smart, geeky one’ thing doesn’t hold up too well when you’re the one attending college on scholarship.”

Dean shrugged. “You’re still a geek.”

“Whatever.”

“Seriously though, this could turn out to be dangerous. You sure you’re ready?”

“Yeah. I mean, I went up against demons and angels two years ago to help rescue you and you’ve been working with me a lot since then. And this will be much less… intense. Also, as you said, one call to Cas and we can be out of there.”

“Alright. I just don’t want to get you hurt.”

“I know. I don’t want you hurt either. So, we look out for each other.”

Dean smirked. “We always do.”


	213. A Life Changing Event

Chapter Two Hundred and Thirteen: A Life Changing Event 

Anna sat in the driveway with her sidewalk chalk and worked on yet another masterpiece. This one was truly beautiful. It depicted images of Heaven. Well, what she thought Heaven looked like. She’d never seen it. She sometimes dreamed that she did. And some parts of it were pretty. Like, really pretty. And the angels would sometimes mention things about Heaven. But never details. Why would they? They always seemed so mission oriented. Or they argued. A lot. But in her picture there were no arguing angels. Just a quiet, peaceful Heaven. It was someone else’s Heaven. And it was beautiful. 

Anna would have to erase her picture later, of course. Her parents had thought that she was a bit obsessed with the idea of Heaven when she was younger, so she’d learned to hide her art and not talk so much about angels and such. A little was fine, of course. Her dad was proud of her interest in religion, but he had feared that she would want to find her way to Heaven early if her ‘obsession’ continued. But that wasn’t a problem anymore. Anna was now considered ‘normal’. And was she smart enough to never mention hearing angels.

She was just putting on the finishing touches when the black car pulled up in front of her house. With both of her parents out for the day, Anna considered getting up and making a run for the house (the school always drilled into the kids the importance of remembering ‘stranger danger’), but then the passenger side door opened and a boy about her age stepped out. 

He was tall and thin, and was wearing jeans and a tan t-shirt. His brown hair was a bit on the long side and he seemed kind and non-threatening.

Anna looked him over but didn’t recognize him from school or around town. Definitely not from church. And then an older boy was getting out of the driver’s side and coming around to the first boy. He wore a black band tee and kept his hair much shorter than the smaller boy. He carried himself like someone used to fighting, but Anna didn’t feel afraid of him.

She wiped the chalk from her hands onto her denim shorts as they approached. Anna caught them glancing down at her picture and then exchanging a look with each other. The older teen nodded to the smaller boy and then stopped walking. The boy who was about her age crouched down in front of her.

“Hi!” He greeted. “Uh, are your parents home?”

Anna wondered if they were here to see her dad. Maybe this was church related. Maybe their parents (because the boys were definitely brothers) went to her dad’s church and this had something to do with that. But… no. That just didn’t feel right.

The girl was about to lie and say that yeah, her parent were in the house (because she’d been instructed to never let on when she was left home alone) when she got one of her feelings. A feeling that the brothers could be trusted. It wasn’t like when she heard the voices or anything. Nothing so specific. But she’d long since learned to trust her instincts.

“No, they’re not.”

The shaggy-haired boy nodded. “Can we talk with you?”

“Okay.” Anna agreed. “Is this about the angels?” Because really, anytime she had feelings or anything, it was always related to what she heard or her dreams. 

“Yeah, it is.” The older boy spoke up. “What do you know about them?”

Anna shrugged. “What do _you_ know?”

“A lot.” The older boy stepped forward and dropped down to sit on the pavement next to her. 

The younger boy took over the conversation again. “I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean.”

Anna couldn’t help but turn to stare at the older boy. Dean Winchester. She’d heard his name so many times over her life. Some of the angels didn’t like him very much. Some had plans for him. Some wanted him left alone. Heaven seemed to talk about him a lot. Anna had always imagined that Dean was… well, not some spiky-haired, cool-looking teen. 

“ _You’re_ Dean Winchester?”

Dean nodded. “And you’re Anna Milton. The girl who hears angels.”

“How do you know about that?!” Anna had never told a soul.

Dean gestured to her drawing. “Your artwork, your reaction to my name… I had a hunch.”

“So, what do you know about the angels?” Sam questioned.

Anna bit her lip. “I don’t hear them all the time. I don’t understand why I hear them sometimes but not other times.”

“When did this all start?” Dean wanted to know.

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve heard them for as far back as I can remember. When I was little I told my mom and she thought that I had an imaginary friend. But then I heard a sermon about angels and it all just clicked into place for me. I knew.”

“That makes sense, Dean.” Sam half-whispered. “You said yourself that the angels are more active this time. They’ve been around on earth since she was little, not like, you know, the other…”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded.

Anna tried to make sense of what they were saying. “I hear them when they come down here?”

“Not exactly.” Dean responded. “But I think that the first time the angels leave Heaven is kind of a catalyst for you to, uh… tune into angel radio. So, if they didn’t leave until you were older, then you wouldn’t be hearing them now.”

“Okay…” Anna wasn’t sure she understood the theory or how Dean came up with it, but he seemed to have some information that she didn’t. “So, if you have all the answers, why do I hear them sometimes, but not all the time?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe if you told me what you’ve heard…”

“Arguing sometimes. Sometimes it’s about you. Some have mentioned you changing their plans. And they weren’t happy. One loud voice told the others to back off. Then they sometimes just talk, you know. The smaller voices. They’re happier. Well, not happy, really. But… they seem to be content with doing their jobs. Sometimes there’s talk about demons. And I’ve heard the words ‘apocalypse’ and ‘end times’ mentioned.”

“Who else knows about all this?” Sam asked.

“No one.” Anna replied. “I know how crazy it all sounds. There’s this woman at the church who claimed to have visions and stuff and no one believed her. ‘Course, she was completely nutso and ended up in a psych ward a few years back after stabbing her husband. But I don’t want people to look at me the way they looked at her, you know?”

Both boys nodded. 

“Smart.” Dean praised. “The less people that know, the better.” 

“Has anything… strange happened lately?” Sam inquired.

“Strange how?”

“Like, did you hear anything out of the ordinary? See something out of place? Have you been approached by anyone new. I mean, besides us.”

Anna started to feel worried. “I’m in some kind of trouble, aren’t I? That’s why you guys are here.” 

The younger brother opened his mouth and started to respond. “We’re not quite…”

“Yes.” Dean cut in. 

“Why? What’s going to happen?”

“We don’t know. But I’m certain that it has something to do with angels.”

“Because I can hear them?”

“Yeah.”

“But… but I’ve heard them for so long. Why are they upset about it now?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s possible that they just now realized it. Has something happened? Anything unusual?”

Anna thought hard. “Well, one of the elders at our church disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Sam repeated. 

She nodded. “Yeah. His wife said that he was acting odd right before and all. And he told her he had an import job from God. I thought I saw him in the church on Sunday, but everyone says that he left the day before.”

Sam turned to Dean. “You don’t think…”

“An angel vessel. And if he saw Anna…”

“Why are they waiting?”

“They may not be sure about her. Or they might not be certain on what to do. But thanks to Pamela’s friend, we know we gotta make our move before they make theirs.”

Anna was starting to get annoyed with their conversation that was going way over her head. 

“Hey! I’m right here and not understanding a word you’re saying! But I’m still getting enough to be freaked.”

“Sorry.” Both brothers apologized. 

The Dean stood. “But we _do_ have to get you out of here. And now.”

“What? I can’t just leave! My parents…”

“Will be safer without you here. So long as you are here or there’s a chance of you coming back here for shelter, they are in danger.”

Anna felt panic begin to overwhelm her. She wasn’t ready for something like this. The angel stuff had been a part of her life forever, but never had she thought it would turn everything upside down and threaten her and her family. 

“But…”

“Please, we don’t have time.” 

Anna looked into Dean’s eyes. There was such sincerity and compassion there. And sadness. The older boy was unusual and there was something unique and almost dangerous about him, but she knew that he meant her no harm. And the younger boy, Sam, was also a good guy. They’d protect her. But leaving home seemed so scary…

“Okay… I guess…”

“Go pack a bag.” Sam instructed. “And hurry.”

“Write a note to your parents. Let them know that you’re leaving and not coming home. Don’t tell them where you’re going or who you’re with or why you’re leaving. Leave the note some place obvious, because I have a feeling that your parents won’t be the only ones seeing it.”

Anna nodded and fled into the house. She hated the idea of making her dad and mom think that she was running away, but if the angels were coming for her… 

She wasn’t ignorant. She’d heard enough over the years to know that they could be dangerous. She also knew that sometimes demons popped up when the angels were around. The Winchesters would protect her, while if she stayed at home her and her whole family would possibly be killed. 

After writing the note, Anna stuffed some clothes, a brush, a toothbrush, a few other toiletries, and some cash into her pack. She added a family photo and zipped it up. 

The girl was about to leave her room when she noticed something out the window. She looked out and felt her stomach drop. It was Mr. Wilkins, from the church. The guy that had disappeared. And he was walking one street over, but staring right at her house. And there were two people with him that she’d never seen before. The three of them were walking with a sense of purpose that made her blood start to freeze in her veins. 

Anna tore her gaze away and grabbed her pack up. She darted for the door and continued running until she was out of the house.

“Dean!” She called. “They’re coming!”

“What?”

“Angels! At least I think… no, I’m certain they are. The guy from the church is there. They’re only one street away.”

“Get in the car.” Dean ordered.

Sam had already opened the back door for her. Anna climbed in without a second thought. She dropped her stuff on the floor of the car as the Winchesters got in and Dean started up the car.

This was it. Her life had now changed and everything was in danger. She just prayed (and _not_ to angels) that she’d make it through alive.


	214. An Unusual Tree

Chapter Two Hundred and Fourteen: An Unusual Tree

They had covered about half the distance from their landing point to the tree in silence, just walking and mentally preparing for whatever was to come. Castiel had made certain to transport himself and Anderson far enough from their destination to not draw any attention to it or them. If the angels were after Anna, it was possible that they knew the truth about her. If that was the case, it wouldn’t take them long to decide to collect her grace and to track it here. 

They’d made one brief stop to pick up a container for the grace. After all, it wasn’t like angel grace could be contained in a Ziploc bag. And Castiel didn’t want Anderson to have to hold the grace inside of his own body any longer than necessary. Carrying the grace of an angel made him a target to any angels in the vicinity. Also, there was always the chance that he’d accidently use the grace if his life or the lives of others were put in immediate danger and Castiel couldn’t allow that. The angel knew that Dean didn’t want Anna to have to go back to life in Heaven, but Castiel felt that closing that door completely would be a mistake. 

So, after a trip to a specialty shop halfway across the world, Castiel had brought Anderson to a spot a few miles away from the tree. And then they’d started walking.

The angel wondered what had been occupying the policeman’s thoughts this entire time. He himself had been thinking back on what had gone wrong with the Anna situation the first time around and all the things that could be done this time to possibly correct it. Castiel went over worst case scenarios and the best solutions for them. 

“So, who is she?” Anderson finally broke the silence. “I mean, I got the cliff notes version, but ‘used to be an angel until she got rid of her grace and things went really bad when she got it back in the other timeline’ is not the most informative explanation ever. And I get the feeling that you know her. Well, _knew_ her.”

Castiel glanced over at him. “Is this feeling a normal feeling, or one of _your_ feelings?” The man could read angels easily, thus it was a fair question.

Anderson shrugged. “Both, really. I mean, I can see that you’re upset over this and taking it personally. And you’re giving off strong feelings too.”

The angel nodded. “I knew her. But I couldn’t help her. I actually made things worse.”

“Things will be different this time.” Anderson assured. “I mean, aren’t you guys always saying how things have changed so much. So, this could be one of the good changes.”

Castiel really wanted to believe that. Not that it would erase what happened the first time around, but helping this Anna would ever so slightly ease his guilt for what had become of her back when. 

“Perhaps.” He allowed.

They lapsed back into silence for a few minutes before Castiel spoke again. “Thank you for doing this.”

The young man shrugged. “Not a problem. I mean, I wasn’t going to just sit at home knowing that angels were out here gunning for a young girl.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re a good person.”

Anderson shrugged again and shoved his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. He’d opted to dress casual rather than in his officer’s uniform that he’d been in when they’d shown up at his door. 

It was only about fifteen minutes later when they reached the tree. It was beautiful. Castiel could see the grace inside of it. It wasn’t like it was very apparent or anything; not a glowing, swirling mass. But instead, the angel could see the angel force at work. The tree was tall and strong, with the greenest, healthiest foliage ever. The sun seemed to shine right onto the tree and make the whole thing brighter.

“Whoa.” Anderson gasped.

“Yes.” Castiel agreed.

They both approached it together, and almost as one reached out to touch the trunk. Castiel’s hand touched the rough bark just a second before he saw Anderson’s make contact. When he touched it he felt the power of the angel grace running through it, mingling with the living entity that was the tree itself. He’d never encountered anything like it before.

The angel took his hand off of the tree and turned to face the policeman. 

“Can you do it? Can you extract the grace?”

“What? Oh… uh, yeah. I think so. I mean, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Castiel inclined his head a fraction of an inch. “Thus far you’ve only been able to remove grace from angels actively using their grace. This is very different.”

“Not really.” Anderson countered. “The tree is constantly using the grace. That’s how it’s grown so tall and strong and healthy. Anna’s grace is active right now.”

Castiel felt his expression turn confused. “I wonder why it hasn’t been tracked by the others.”

“Maybe the angels weren’t looking for it. I mean, it’s not like it gives off any real large amounts of power or anything. I didn’t feel it until I was touching the tree.”

That was more than likely. It was also possible that the angels were unaware that Anna’s grace had landed on earth like this and had taken on such a form. But if they were onto Anna now, they would certainly start looking. And if last time around was any indicator, it wouldn’t take them long at all to track it now.

“You must hurry.” He instructed. “We may not have much time before…” His warning was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. Turning his back to the tree and Anderson, Castiel answer the call. “Hello?”

“Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded desperate and was tinged with pain and fear.

“Dean? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Angels… We need you now.”

“Where are you, Dean?”

“I… uh… the Impala. We… the angels… Cas?”

“Dean!”

There was some noise at the other end and then Sam’s voice came on.

“Cas, we need help immediately!”

“I need to know where you are.”

“Uh, we left Anna’s place and we only drove about three blocks east. Please, hurry.”

“I’m on my way.” The angel promised.

He hung up and turned to face Anderson.

“What’s going on?” The young cop asked.

“Dean and the others are in trouble. You’ll have to handle this by yourself. I’ll be back for you.”

To his credit, Anderson nodded immediately. “Alright, go. I’ll be fine.”

Castiel nodded back, and then got himself to Anna’s house instantly. As soon as he arrived, the angel reached out with his mind and felt Dean. Even with the sigil’s carved on the hunter’s ribs, he could still sense his friend when they were close enough. Especially when Dean was upset. And right now Castiel could sense his pain and distress. 

He focused in on the point of origin and then appeared there.

Castiel immediately identified the problem. The Impala was lying upside down on the side of the road, its windows and windshield smashed. The angel could only imagine how angry Dean would be about the damage done to his baby when everything was over. 

There was a burn mark on the road near the driver’s side, and by the smell Castiel knew that an angel had been killed there. Burned in holy oil. Most likely by Dean, who was partially hanging out of the shattered window, his head resting on the pavement. 

Two other angels were approaching the vehicle, slowly and cautiously; probably not wishing to meet the same fate as their companion.

Not knowing the exact condition of everyone in the car, Castiel stepped forward and pulled out his blade.

“Back off.” He commanded. 

The angels gave a brief glance at his weapon, but then extracted their own and continued their approach. Castiel moved to put himself between where Dean lay, only semi-conscious from the look of it, and the hostile angels. He held up his angel blade and prepared to fight.

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Scott watched Castiel disappear and desperately hoped that everyone was going to be alright. It didn’t feel right being left out of a rescue attempt, but he understood that the grace needed to be extracted from the tree. And soon.

So, trying to ignore the concern he was feeling for his friends, Scott turned back to the unusual tree. 

It looked… well, stunningly beautiful, but not like the wondrous thing it actually was. Amazing what Anna’s grace did for the tree. Of course, considering what Anderson had witnessed over the years, he wondered if perhaps plant-life had better use of grace than angels did. After all, this tree would never hurt innocent people or try to bring about the apocalypse. 

Scott placed his hand against the trunk and felt the grace flowing through the tree. It was strong and powerful. And it responded instantly to his touch.

The grace started to make the bark under his palm feel warm as it sort of pushed up against him, like it _wanted_ him to pull it out of its resting place for the last thirteen years. As if the grace had been content to be in a tree only so long as it had to be, but what it really wanted was a vessel. And although Scott wasn’t built to be a vessel for an angel, his body was meant to contain grace. And it was as if Anna’s grace was responding to that. It kind of creeped him out a bit.

But he had a job to do. And Scott was pretty used to being creeped out by now. 

Taking a deep breath, the policeman focused on extracting the grace from the tree. At first, it came easily enough. The grace practically rushed into him, making him gasp and almost breaking his concentration. But he held on and kept pulling it out. It was strange, though. He could feel the tree itself, holding onto the grace since that was the very thing that had given it life. Scott extracted the angel’s power from the roots, trunk, branches, and leaves. Finally, it was done.

He released the tree and stumbled back. 

That was definitely the strangest grace extraction he’d ever performed. Well, maybe second strangest. The time he’d stolen multiple graces at once had to take first place still.

Scott went to reach into his pocket for the container to transfer Anna’s grace into when he realized that he had a problem. He didn’t have the container. Cas did. The angel hadn’t given it to him before leaving.

“Damn it.” He muttered.

Oh well. He’d have to keep the grace inside of himself for now. It shouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t like the angels sensed it from Heaven. He’d just have to get away from anywhere that they’d be likely to show and stay in hiding until Cas could pick him up. 

Scott started walking away from the tree in long, quick, purposeful strides. He was considering his options when he heard a sound that made him stop and cringe. Wings. And more than a single pair, so it was unlikely that it was simply Cas returning. Angels had just shown up and here he was, hanging around with an angel grace in him.

Best case scenario would be that they were angels sent by Michael and he’d somehow have to convince them to keep quiet about the whole him being able to contain angel grace thing. Worst case scenario was that the angels were hostile, sent by Raphael, and Anderson would need to dispatch them all before his secret got out. Or they killed him. Which, yeah, would be worse. And since he knew that Dean’s group was in trouble, it was highly likely that option two was what he’d be stuck with.

Scott turned around to face the angels. There were four of them standing right next to the tree, all staring at him. Hell, with the angel grace inside of him, he must be like a beacon to them. 

Upon seeing them, his eyes were drawn to one angel in particular. Castiel. But not the one that had just left a few minutes ago. The other one. The Castiel he’d only seen that one time before. The one that no one was sure where his allegiance lied.

Scott forced a smile to his face. “Hi! Nice day, huh?”

A female angel stepped forward. “What are you?” She cocked her head to the side. “You aren’t an angel, yet you have grace within you.”

The policeman let out a sigh. He was so incredibly tired of the ‘what are you’ question. It was kind of insulting. “I’m just a guy passing through. So, if you don’t mind…”

“That grace isn’t yours.” She informed him.

_No kidding._ “Well, it’s not really yours either. Would it sound too childish for me to say ‘finder’s keepers’?”

“Release it to us.”

“Yeah… not gonna happen.”

“We are collecting the girl now. Both she and the grace need to be destroyed. Don’t add yourself to that list.”

Scott narrowed his eyes. “Hurt the girl or make a move for me, and you’ll all be on the list yourselves.”

“Whatever you are, you’re no match for an angel. And certainly not all four of us. Now, release the grace you are holding and turn yourself over to us so we can bring you back to Raphael and figure you out.”

Scott shook his head. “No way in hell.”

The female angel smiled coolly. “The hard way, then.”

Scott stood his ground as the four angels began to spread out to surround him. Yeah, the hard way, then.


	215. Surprise Attack

Chapter Two Hundred and Fifteen: Surprise Attack 

The Impala had been driving away from Anna’s house and leaving the angels behind. Dean hadn’t allowed himself to think that they were safe yet; nope he was far too experienced for that. The moment that a hunter figured that they were out of the woods was the exact moment they found themselves in the thick of the darkest forest. But still, he’d focused on the next step rather than where he’d just come from. Now that they had Anna and were away from her home, he’d have to get her some place safe. And that place would _not_ be his house. Dean wasn’t going to lead the angels back to his parents. Especially not with his mom still injured. But they certainly couldn’t just stay on the road forever. No, the best plan of action would be to get everyone to Bobby’s place. After all, there really wasn’t anywhere safer.

Dean had just begun to plan out the best route when suddenly an angel appeared right in front of the car. He went to slam on the breaks, but then the guy put his hand up and the Impala was in the air.

“Brace yourselves!” Dean screamed.

His car hit the ground hard and flipped over. Dean let out a grunt as his head collided with the steering wheel. They continued to roll a couple more times before coming to a stop. Dean blinked to try and clear his vision which kept trying to go completely black. But the hunter knew that he had to fight it. Losing consciousness with enemies around was a sure way to die. And get his brother and the girl killed as well. Unacceptable. 

It was around that time that Dean realized that he was upside-down. Oh, well. That was easily solved. The teen started fumbling around for the button to release his seatbelt. At least he’d actually worn the damned thing today, or else he’d most likely be splattered on the pavement. 

“S’mmy?” His voice slurred as he spoke. Concussion then. Good to know. “You ‘kay?”

“Dean? What happened?”

“Angel. Flip’d car.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep.” No use mentioning the bleeding head wound or the fact that his left shoulder felt like it was dislocated. He must’ve put it forward against the dash to brace himself without realizing it. “You?”

“Neck hurts. Whiplash, I think. And my belt is jammed. I can’t get it off.”

“’Kay. We might have to cut it.” Dean finally managed to release his seatbelt and ended up falling head first to the ceiling of the Impala. “Uhhh…”

“Dean!”

“’m ‘kay.” He assured his little brother. “Anna? You a’right?” He could hear sniffling coming from the backseat. 

“I’m scared, Dean.”

“Gonna be ‘kay.” He replied, rubbing the blood out of his right eye and trying to see through the broken windshield. 

And oh, crap. The angel was walking right towards him.

Dean shifted to get himself partially out of the driver’s side window; which was completely shattered. He felt a few pieces of glass cut into his arm, but ignored it as he pulled the bottle of holy oil out of his pocket. The hunter worked the cap off quickly, hoping to get a circle made before his opponent reached him. Dean wanted to be able to light it as soon as the angel reached him. Unfortunately, things still weren’t going his way. The angel’s feet strode into view just seconds later.

His decision made, Dean went from defensive to offensive. This guy wasn’t playing around and he wasn’t going to risk Sam’s or Anna’s life. The young hunter made as if to pour the oil in a circle around the angel’s feet. The man laughed dismissively and crouched down, reaching out towards the injured teen, a look of contempt on his face. Dean brought his hand up and drenched the angel in the oil. He stumbled back a step, shocked at the hunter’s actions. Dean wasted no time in grabbing his lighter and torching the angel before it could harm him or the others further.

As the angel burned, Dean slumped down, feeling the world spinning around him. And that was when he saw the other two angels standing at a distance. Damn.

They needed help. 

Dean pulled out his cell phone and called Cas. 

The call was picked up after a moment. “Cas?” 

 

“Dean? What is it? What’s wrong?” Huh… he must sound pretty bad judging by the concern in Cas’ voice.

 

“Angels… We need you now.”

 

“Where are you, Dean?”

 

“I… uh… the Impala.” Damn… where _was_ the Impala again? “We… the angels… Cas?” It was getting harder to think and the darkness was taking over his vision.

 

“Dean!”

 

They must’ve been losing the connection because Cas’ voice sounded so damned far away.

Then there was someone crawling on him and small hands taking the phone away from him. Dean made an attempt to fight for it. He needed that to get help for Sam and Anna, and himself… but then he recognized that it was Sam who was taking the cell phone away and Dean trusted Sam.

 

“Cas, we need help immediately!” Sam spoke. Well, duh. Dean had already said as much. “Uh, we left Anna’s place and we only drove about three blocks east. Please, hurry.” Oh… okay, _that_ was important information. 

Dean wondered if any other words were spoken as the world suddenly tilted like crazy and then went completely dark. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

 

Sam wanted to pull his injured brother back into the car, not like it was going to provide much protection with all the windows broken but it was better than nothing. Yet he didn’t dare. There was glass everywhere and he didn’t want to cut Dean up any further. So, instead, the younger boy grabbed his bottle of holy oil and stayed close to the injured young hunter. 

“Are we gonna die?” Anna asked.

“No.”

“I mean, it was amazing what Dean did, but he looks like he died now and…”

“Anna,” Sam cut her off. “You said you heard the angels talk about Dean?”

“Uh huh.”

“Then you know that he’s a lot harder than this to kill off. He’s just unconscious right now. He hit his head pretty bad, but when he wakes up he’ll be fine. This is just another day for him.”

“Okay.” The girl crawled forward to be closer to them, probably feeling safer near the ‘legendary Winchesters’ than alone in the back of the broken car. 

The Sam heard something going on outside the Impala. He got down on his stomach and laid next to Dean. The boy craned his neck and saw Cas facing off with the other two angels. They all had their blades drawn. 

He really wished that he could get to the trunk and grab the Colt. They’d brought it with them knowing it could come in handy, but hadn’t had it on them when they met Anna figuring that any visible weapons might frighten the girl. Dean had locked it in the back to keep it safe, which had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now made Sam feel like safety was a world away. 

Sam watched wide-eyed, with a protective hand on Dean’s back, as Cas killed one of the angels. Now there was only one left. He grinned. They had a real shot at getting out of this alive. 

Or not. Because suddenly four more angels appeared on the street.

Sam gripped Dean’s shoulder tightly on instinct, fear filling him. Going for the Colt would improve their chances, but that would mean leaving his unconscious brother alone with no one to protect him except for Anna; who wouldn’t know anything about fighting angels at this point. Grabbing the weapon, only to get back to find Dean dead was not acceptable. But they’d all die if Cas couldn’t handle five opponents on his own.

His thoughts and worries were interrupted by a groan. Sam scrambled to the side, moving off of his brother and as he did so he realized that the shoulder that he’d been holding onto was badly dislocated. Ouch. No wonder Dean had woken.

“S’mmy?”

“Dean… you need to get back in the Impala. There’s more angels and I’m not sure if Cas can fight them all.”

Dean blinked and pushed himself up on his right arm and with Sam’s help got back into the mangled car. 

The brothers sat side by side on the ceiling of the Impala, trying to get a look at what was going on outside. After a moment, Dean spoke up.

“You got oil?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Get Anna out the other side.” He paused to take a breath, but Sam noticed that his voice seemed stronger now. The younger boy wondered if he was more clear-headed now, or if he was forcing himself to sound that way. “Encircle yourselves in holy fire. Keep her safe ‘til this is over.”

Sam nodded. “But what about you?”

“I’m going for the Colt.”

“Dean, no! You’re hurt.”

“Cas needs help. If he falls, we won’t make it.”

“I can…”

“No, Sammy. Please. Just do what I asked. Protect Anna.”

Sam wanted to argue. But Dean was already moving out the window and he knew that the conversation was over. His brother was trying to keep him safe but was also trusting him with their main objective. Any arguing would endanger their mission and their lives. Sam needed to listen. 

“Anna, c’mon. Let’s go.”

The girl was staring after Dean with a look of wonder on her face. “He’s really going out there to fight them?”

“Yeah, and we’ve gotten get to safety. They’re after _you_.”

She nodded. “Okay. Lead the way, Sam.”

The boy nodded and crawled out the passenger side window, careful to avoid the shattered glass. He’d already gotten his right knee cut up a little and his neck and back were sore; there was no need to add to that list. 

Once they were outside the wrecked car, the young teens kept low to the ground, hoping to avoid detection. They made their way far enough away from the Impala so as not to accidently set it on fire (because Dean was damned lucky that that didn’t happen when he burned up the angel earlier) and then Sam poured out a circle of holy oil around them. 

Anna kept looking around them, an expression of fearful disbelief on her face. It was one thing to hear angels and know of these types of battles, but Sam knew from experience that being in your first fight was a whole new ballgame. 

The youngest Winchester pulled out his lighter. He turned his head to see Dean by the badly dented trunk of the upside down car. Two angels were headed his way. Cas was fighting off another two. That made four. Had Cas taken the fifth out?

Nope. Angel five was only a couple feet away from him and Anna. Sam flicked his lighter and prayed that it’d catch on the first try. Luck was with him. A small flame sprang to life and the young hunter dropped it into the oil. 

The two teens were surrounded just as the angel approached. If the guy hadn’t pulled to a stop when he had, he’d have been engulfed in flames. 

“Give us the girl and we’ll spare your life.”

“Leave us all alone and maybe we’ll spare yours.” Sam shot back. 

“You cannot stay in there forever.”

“I won’t have to. Because you and your friends won’t last long.”

The angel’s expression was amused. “You think your brother and his friend will rescue you?”

Sam gave him a dismissive look. “Do you know how many dead enemies have doubted us before?”

“Well, where is your brother now?”

He couldn’t stop his gaze from straying to the Impala’s trunk. But Dean wasn’t there any longer. And the trunk was still closed. And by the look of the damage done to it, Sam was beginning to have second thoughts about the possibility that it _could_ be opened. Crap. 

“He’ll stop you.” Sam responded with more conviction than he felt. 

“Or he’s dead already. Give up, Samuel Winchester.”

“Never.” 

Sam tried not to think about what could’ve happened to Dean as he stood his ground, staring the angel down from behind the circle of flames and desperately praying that all would turn out for the best.


	216. Deception

Chapter Two Hundred and Sixteen: Deception 

The four angels surrounded Scott quickly and were well-coordinated. Castiel and the female pulled out their blades, while the other two each put a hand up in a rather threatening manner. The policeman felt a rush of their grace against him and by the ‘tone’ of it, he knew that the angels weren’t screwing around. They’d probably been trying to boil his insides or something equally as pleasant. Unfortunately for them, but very fortunate for Scott, they’d picked the wrong target. 

The young man grabbed onto the two graces with his mind easily and snatched them away from the angels. It took no time at all for him to accomplish. Both of his now-powerless opponents let out a cry as they dropped, one to one knee and the other to his butt. They held their heads and looked at Scott in disbelief. The police officer took a deep breath and thought about his next move. 

The woman angel and Castiel weren’t using their grace and he couldn’t get a feel on it within them to grab a hold of. And Scott knew that their blades could definitely end him. His options were to either use the grace in his possession to escape or to use it to go on the offensive and try to take the others out quickly. 

If he escaped, they’d return to Raphael and inform him of what Scott was capable of. And that wouldn’t end well. Scott, and the very little distant family he had left, would be killed. Brutally. So yeah… he’d go on the offensive then. The problem was that Scott was unsure of how to use angel grace against angels.

But the angels sure knew how to use their weapons.

“What did you do?!” The female angel just about shrieked at him.

“Same as I’ll do to you if you don’t put the blade down.” He replied. 

But instead, she just held it out in front of her and lunged at him. Scott threw himself back and to the side. The angel’s blade sliced through his jacket, but missed his body completely. Pure luck on his part and he couldn’t keep relying on that. Not if he wanted to keep living. Which he did.

Scott continued to back away, only to be grabbed by his ankle and pulled to the ground. Damn it. He’d forgotten about the de-powered angels. And now one of them was grabbing onto him.

The angel punched him in the face. Scott returned the blow and the guy let go with a cry. Angels weren’t used to feeling human pain. But that didn’t stop him from reaching into his jacket and Scott knew that he was going for his blade. 

The cop pulled his gun and shot the de-powered angel dead. Then he turned his weapon on the other graceless one and repeated the action. Scott couldn’t risk them getting involved in the battle; not when he had to concentrate on the ones that could actually fight well.

Speaking of which, he got to his feet and turned his head to see Castiel standing and watching him. The angel had yet to approach him or make a threatening move. It was a bit of a relief, actually. Scott only trusted three angels; Michael, Gabriel, and Cas. Of those three, he was only completely comfortable around Cas. And he knew that to the Winchesters, Cas was family. Of course, this version of Castiel wasn’t _that_ Cas, but he had the potential to be similar. So Scott would really rather not have to kill him or take his grace. But on the other hand, Castiel was here with Raphael’s group and they _were_ attacking him. So…

Scott pulled himself away from those thoughts as the female angel kicked him in the back, knocking him to the ground once again. He rolled over and shot her. And okay, it wouldn’t kill her, but at this point he was hoping to just slow her down enough to avoid being skewered. 

The female angel didn’t even slow a bit though. She walked right to him, straddled his body and plunged the blade right towards Scott’s face. 

As often happened when it came to using the angel grace, Scott reacted completely on instinct. He separated one of them from the other two (not Anna’s, he wouldn’t use Anna’s) and threw it up and out in front of him. The angel blade came to a stop less than an inch away from the policeman’s eye. He could feel it pushing against the barrier that the grace was making before him. Scott concentrated and shoved back, as the angel lady tried to stab him with even more force. 

Her blade was being moved away from him, but far too slowly. So Scott thought hard about the grace wall in front of him and about how he could possibly use it to repel the angel. After a second, it began to get hot. Really hot. Which made the blade that was stuck in it heat up as well. The female angel winced but kept her hold on the weapon.

“Castiel! Come over here and help me deal with this… this _thing_.”

Wow. If he wasn’t fighting for his life, Scott would take a moment to feel insulted by that. But he had no time. Because he could feel the heat of the grace shield above him as he tried to push it up and towards his opponent and he could feel the blade trying to get through his barrier. 

And then he saw Castiel standing at the woman’s side and he knew that he was screwed. Scott couldn’t fight them both. He wasn’t even sure how long his damned grace shield was going to hold out against one opponent. Two wasn’t an option. And dividing his attention between them so he could use another grace and perform a different attack at the same time was far too complicated for him to manage. It wasn’t like he had any training in this stuff. 

So, yeah. He was going to die. By Castiel’s hand. 

Castiel held his angel blade up high. Scott braced himself and tried to put as much of his energy into strengthening the grace shield as he could. Maybe he could hold out long enough for one of them to slip up and use their grace. Then he could de-power them and…

Suddenly Castiel looked straight into Scott’s eyes as he brought the blade down hard. Right into the female angel’s back. She let out a gasp as her eyes widened and then she fell to side. 

Scott was so stunned that he released his concentration and the grace shield dissipated. He simply laid there on his back in the grass staring up at the angel that had just saved his life. Castiel stepped forward until he was directly above him. Scott went to prop himself up on his elbows, but that was the moment that his old injuries decided to make themselves known and his right arm simply gave out on him. The cop let out a groan as he fell back to the ground. He grabbed at his arm and closed his eyes for a moment.

When Scott opened them a moment later, he saw that Castiel was standing over him, looking down at the man as if he were the most curious creature that the angel had ever encountered.

“You know, this is typically when you should offer to help me up.” Scott suggested.

“I saved your life.” Castiel responded.

“Well yeah, and I appreciate it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be polite and helpful afterwards.” 

Castiel simply cocked his head to the side. Oh, well. Scott had tried. He used his left arm to roll over onto his knees and then got to his feet.

“What are you?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Not _this_ question again.” He sighed. “I’m human. Okay? I just… I can do stuff.”

“You drained those angels of their grace.”

“Yeah.”

“And then used it.”

“Yep.”

“If Raphael knew…”

“You can’t tell him!” Scott felt a surge of fear at the mere suggestion.

“I would not save your life to simply condemn you to death.”

“Okay. Good to know.” Scott nodded. “But uh… not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but _why_ did you save my life?”

Castiel paused and looked around, as if making certain that they weren’t being spied on. But Scott knew that there was no one there except for them and it didn’t feel as if anyone was listening in.

“Because you are under Michael’s protection. The Winchesters and you and other key players must not be killed.”

“Michael? But… but you were working with Raphael’s group?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded. “Michael thought it best that I pretend to work for Raphael for now. Since I had not chosen a side yet, and many from my garrison had pledged their allegiance to Raphael, I was not even questioned when I joined with him.”

“So, a double agent. That’s uh… that’s cool.” Scott made a face. “How does that work exactly?”

“Usually I just stay in Heaven and listen in on anything being said and report to Michael when I can. This is the first time there has been real conflict during a mission.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “So, what are you going to tell Raphael?”

“That you got a hold of one of the blades and fought us until you could escape.”

“Well, you might want to rough up your appearance a bit. Dirt on your clothes. Mess up your hair. Rip your tie. Maybe even bloody up your nose a bit.” Scott shrugged. “Something to help sell that story.”

Castiel inclined his head. “I will do that. And I will need you to pick up a blade and cut me.”

“What?”

“Nothing serious. Just a couple shallow cuts. I need to appear to have fought you as well as I could.”

Scott nodded. Hurting an ally didn’t seem all that appealing to him, but sending Castiel back looking perfectly alright would most likely end with the angel’s death. So, while Castiel made a really poor attempt to muss up his own hair and make his clothing dirty, the officer went over to one of the dead angels and relieved the corpse of its blade. 

He walked back over and took a deep breath. The angel’s weapon felt strange in his hand, and wielding it against Castiel was even weirder. But Scott knew that this had to be done. So, when the angel nodded, he brought the sharp weapon down and sliced it across his leg. Castiel winced, but the wound wasn’t deep enough to bring him down. The next cut was across the angel’s right arm. Then a shallow one on his side. Scott finally let the blade drop to his side.

“You alright?”

“I… I will be.” Castiel was obviously in pain. 

“I’m sorry, I…”

“It had to be done.” The other version of the Winchesters’ friend informed him in a neutral tone.

“I’m still sorry.” 

Castiel gave him an assessing look. Scott got the feeling that the angel didn’t understand him at all. But that was fine. Angels weren’t humans. Never had been. He couldn’t expect Castiel to get why he was feeling the way he did when the angel knew so very little about humans and their emotions.

“You should leave now. I must return to Heaven and report our failure to Raphael. You best not be here in case he decides to send others down to investigate.”

“Wasn’t planning on sticking around here anyways.” He assured Castiel.

“I shall see you again.”

“I’m sure you will.” Scott agreed. “And thanks.”

The angel inclined his head. “It was my mission.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘you’re welcome’.”

Scott turned to walk away, but realized that that just wasn’t going to work. He had to get a bit further away than his feet could take him. He was about to turn back to ask Castiel for a ride when he heard the telltale sound of wings. Which gave him an idea. He still had one grace inside of him besides Anna’s. And, according to the Winchesters, he’d once actually teleported (or flew… whatever) like angels did. Even if he still couldn’t recall actually doing that.

But he needed a destination. Scott didn’t know where Dean, Sam, and Cas were right now. And he knew that Dean didn’t want to bring any of this back to his house. So that meant that they’d have to all meet up somewhere else.

A place in mind, Scott closed his eye, concentrated on separating the graces inside of himself, and then made his first conscious attempt to transport himself like the angels always did.


	217. Retreat

Chapter Two Hundred and Seventeen: Retreat 

“You’re angels!” Anna yelled from behind Sam. “You’re supposed to be helping people, not acting like demons!”

Sam wished that she hadn’t spoken, as he didn’t really want her to draw any more attention to herself, even if she _was_ relatively safe in the ring of holy fire. But he understood her point of view. Hell, he felt the same way. He still couldn’t grasp why angels acted like such (as Dean always said) dicks. 

“Help _people_? Where would you get an idea like that, little girl? We listen only to our Father and…”

“And God created this world and everything in it.” Anna shot back. “Yet you destroy it like you don’t even care!”

“We don’t.”

“Then you’re worse than demons! I’ve heard you. I know how awful some of you really are and I can’t wait until these boy stop you!” Anna just about shrieked at him.

The angel smirked. “What things you say about us… I wonder if your opinion would change if you knew the truth.”

“Truth? What truth? What are you talking about?”

“Aren’t you even the least bit curious as to _why_ we’re after you?”

“Because you want her dead.” Sam answered, cutting off any more of that argument. He really didn’t want the angel to continue. Anna didn’t need to know everything. Especially not from this moron.

“And does she know why? Or did you and your brother conveniently forget to mention that part to her.”

“Because I can hear you all in Heaven. And you don’t like that. Actually there doesn’t seem to be much that you _do_ like.” Anna added the last part on quietly, almost like an afterthought. 

“Oh there’s so much more to you than that.”

“What… what do you mean? What do you know?”

“I know that…” Suddenly, the angel stopped talking as the tip of a blade protruded from his throat. 

Sam looked away as the being lit up briefly. The boy turned back just in time to see the body fall to the ground, revealing Dean standing behind where the angel was just moments ago, holding a now bloody angel blade.

“Don’t you just hate when the villains decide to monologue?” The older teen asked.

“Dean!” 

“The one and only.”

“But how…”

“The Impala’s trunk wouldn’t open. So, without the Colt, I knew I needed a different weapon. I kept low and out of sight until I got to a blade that one of the dead angels had dropped. Then I made my way back here.”

“I thought something had happened to you.” Sam exclaimed, finally voicing his previous fear.

“Taken out by a winged dickbag? Never.”

But just as Dean was saying that, Sam saw one of the angels coming up right behind his brother. He reacted without even thinking.

The younger Winchester reached out and snatched a hold of his older brother’s shirt. With all his strength, Sam pulled Dean forward and across the ring of fire. The taller boy stumbled as he entered the protected area and almost collapsed when he lost his balance trying to spin around to see why Sam had yanked him in there. Dean might be up and fighting, but it was obvious that the concussion was taking its toll. Which was why Sam hadn’t yelled for him to turn around. A dizzy and disoriented Dean wouldn’t have stood a chance against the angel. 

Sam was relieved when he glanced down and saw that his brother didn’t seem to have been burned by being pulled through the flames. Probably because he’d gone willingly and thus it had been quick. Still, he’d check Dean over more when they were safer.

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean praised.

“Yep.”

“You would stay in there rather than face me in a fight?” The angel challenged.

Dean laughed. “Hell, yeah.”

“Coward.”

“Nope, just smarter than you.” 

Sam watched as Cas came up behind the angel and pierced it through the back with his blade. A killing blow.

“And we have more friends.” Sam added.

“That it?” Dean asked.

“Yes.” Cas confirmed. “At least for now. I suggest we leave the area before more show up.”

“Yeah, I was just about to suggest that too.” Dean responded. “There’s a blanket in the backseat of my car. Bring it here, so we can put out the flames.”

Cas nodded and moved to follow Dean’s order. 

“You okay?” Sam asked him.

“I’ll live. You?”

“A bit sore from the crash, but yeah. I’m alright.”

“You did great, Sammy.” Dean ruffled his hair. “You handled yourself well. Nice to have you by my side out here.”

“Well, I learned from the best.” Sam grinned up at him, meaning every word.

Dean’s response was interrupted when Cas returned. “I have the blanket that you requested.”

“Great.” Dean reached out and snatched it from the angel. He quickly set to work smothering the flames near them so that they could safely leave. 

Sam realized that Anna had fallen silent the entire time

“How you holding up, Anna?”

“I’m scared. And confused. And kind of waiting to wake up in my own bed.” She looked up at him. “But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, but no.”

“I just… I wish I was home and safe and that none of this was happening to me. I was doing fine with the whole ‘hearing angels’ thing in my life, but this is just…”

“Too much?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll get you through it.” Sam promised. 

“Thanks. After seeing what you guys just did, I really think you can. But I’d still rather wake up and find out that it was all a dream.”

“Can’t blame you there.” Dean commented. “But since that’s not an option, we gotta move now, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

They stepped over the charred blanket and grouped together around Cas.

“I’ll bring you all home…”

Dean shook his head. “We’re going to Bobby’s.”

Cas nodded once. “Alright, then. I can…”

“And I’m not leaving my baby behind.” He pointed to the Impala.

“Dean…”

“Hey, you transported her once before when you all came to get me that time. So, yeah, I know you can do it.”

The angel let out a long-suffering sigh. “Very well. If everyone would climb back into the upside-down vehicle, I will expend more energy than is really necessary to bring both it and all of you to safety.”

Dean grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural...  
…

It never seemed to fail. As soon as Bobby settled down with a plate of food, a cold beer, and a research book; something would happen. If he was lucky, the phone would ring and it would just be a hunter looking for help and he’d be back doing his own thing within no time at all. If he was not lucky, there would be some sort of actual situation that called for his attention and sometimes those situations would even turn out to be extremely dangerous.

Today, Bobby knew that he was not so lucky when he raised the bottle of beer to his lips just in time for Rumsfeld to start barking. And if the mutt was barking at someone or something without Bobby having heard a car pulling up, well then, that just couldn’t be good news. 

He got up from his desk (after taking a long drink of his beer) and walked towards his front door, stopping only long enough to pick up his shotgun. Something was sure as hell gonna be sorry for interrupting his lunch. 

Bobby swung the door open and went out onto his porch. So far nothing was out of place. He swept the driveway and surrounding area with a quick glance and then proceeded down the stairs and towards the sound of Rumsfeld’s barking. 

As the hunter wrapped around the side of his house, he saw the cause of the disturbance and contemplated lowering his weapon. But then he decided against it. Just because the person wasn’t dangerous didn’t mean that he hadn’t brought some dangerous crap with him and right to Bobby’s doorstep. 

“Just what the hell are ya doin’ here and how’d ya get here with no car?” He shouted at Officer Scott Anderson.

The young man’s head snapped up to look at him. Anderson was down on his knees near a pile of scrap off towards the side of the yard. He looked tired and worn out, and there was a dark bruise on his jaw but other than that he seemed to be in pretty good condition. Rumsfeld was a few feet away from the cop barking and whining until he caught sight of Bobby. Then the mutt ran to his master and sat by his feet.

“Bobby!” Anderson exclaimed. “Good to see you. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.”

“Well, ya did. Ya mind fillin’ me in on how ya got here?”

“I uh…” He reached up and scratched behind his ear.

“Ya did yer thing.” Bobby made a vague fluttering motion with his hands.

Anderson nodded. “I needed to escape. Fast.”

“One of these days yer gonna try to do something and it ain’t gonna work.” Bobby warned him.

The cop shrugged as he got to his feet. “Well, luckily that day wasn’t today.”

“What’d the Winchesters get you involved in this time and are they alright?”

“Angel stuff. Probably best discussed inside.” Anderson replied. “As for Sam and Dean, last I knew, Cas was going to go help them out of some situation.”

Bobby sighed. “Idjits. The lot of ya.” He shook his head. “Let’s get inside and you can fill me in.”

The hunter turned and started back for his door, not even waiting to make certain that the policeman would follow. After all, where else would Anderson go? Rumsfeld stayed by Bobby’s feet, seemingly content now that his master had come out to see the ‘threat’. The mutt made an okay guard dog but a crappy excuse for an attack dog. And when they reached the front door, Rumsfeld whined to be let in.

“No. Yer stayin’ out here to keep an eye out fer intruders.” Bobby scolded.

Anderson lowered his hand to pet the dog on its head. Rumsfeld sniffed him and licked his palm, wagging his tail the whole damned time.

“Who’s a good dog?” The cop’s voice wasn’t the typical ‘talk to an animal in an annoyingly condescending way’ but in a teasing sort of a tone and Bobby just knew that it was meant to screw with him. Anderson had figured out that Rumsfeld was meant to keep the scrapyard safe but would rather be getting tummy rubs.

“Shut up.” Bobby growled. 

The young man laughed as he followed Bobby inside. The hunter decided right then that he was going to splash the cop in the face with holy water to check him for demon possession rather than the more subtle holy water in the proffered drink trick. Anderson deserved the sudden shower.

“Now that we’re protected,” Anderson started. “I can tell you what’s going on. There’s a young girl, Anna, that the angels want because she can overhear them in Heaven. She doesn’t know the reason why, but it’s because she’s a fallen angel, reborn as a human. I went and retrieved her grace; it’s inside me right now. Cas was with me until he got a call from the brothers, who had gone to retrieve Anna. They’re in some sort of trouble and needed his help. Once he left I was attacked by angels following orders from Raphael. I took care of them with the help of the other Castiel, who’s in Raph’s camp as a double agent for Michael. Then I came here because I figure that this is where Dean’ll head too.”

Bobby just stared at him once he’d finished his long and exceedingly weird explanation. And okay, he knew that he should be used to stuff like this by now, but he still missed the days when hearing about weird deaths and trying to piece together what creature/ghost was responsible was the height of his issues.

“Well, then… guess there’s just one thing to do for the moment.”

Anderson looked curious. “What’s that?”

“I’m gonna sit down and eat my damned lunch. Ya want anything?”


	218. Grace

Chapter Two Hundred and Eighteen: Grace 

It was a relief to look out the Impala’s windows and see Bobby’s junkyard. Dean let out a quiet sigh. He’d never have admitted it, but that confrontation had been just a bit too intense for his liking. For a moment, he’d been afraid that he was going to get himself and everyone else killed. 

Shrugging away those dark and unwanted thoughts, Dean crawled out of the shattered window. He winced at the pressure that it put on his newly reset shoulder… and yeah, resetting your own shoulder was a bitch to accomplish. 

Going first, Dean led their group over to the porch where Rumsfeld lazily lifted his head and looked up at the hunter. Recognizing him, the dog wagged his tail and panted happily. Dean patted the mutt’s head as he passed. 

The teen had just barely begun to knock when the door swung open.

“Well, it’s about damned time.” Bobby growled. “I been waitin’ and worryin’.”

“Good to see you too, Bobby.”

“Ya might wanna get that patched up.” The older hunter gestured to Dean’s head. Then his eyes widened as he looked passed the people gathered on his porch. “And just what the hell did ya do to yer car?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need to use some of your tools and parts later on. Hope that’s okay.” Dean walked into the house without waiting for a reply. After all, he knew that Bobby would never turn him down. 

He went into Bobby’s living room, fully intending to flop down and sprawl out on the couch, only to find that particular piece of furniture already occupied. Of course. How else would Bobby have been expecting them?

“Hey, Anderson. Glad to see you in one piece.”

The man smiled back at him. “You too. Although you’ve seen better days. Worse ones too, though.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Way worse. This is just a scrape.” A scrape that was making him a bit dizzy again, however. So Dean carefully sat down on the other end of the couch after pushing a few old books to the floor.

“Ya better not have messed up my stuff.” Bobby warned.

“Nothing looked important.” Dean commented.

“Boy, yer askin’ for trouble.” The older hunter fake-warned.

“When is he not?” Sam wanted to know, entering the room with Anna.

And that was when the girl let out a gasp. She pushed past Dean’s brother and walked across the floor over to stand a few feet away from the old couch. Dean was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed that Anderson was staring at her and she was staring right back at him.

“Oh, crap.” Dean muttered under his breath. This was going to lead to even more explanations that he didn’t want to have to go through.

“You… you’re glowing.” Anna proclaimed.

The cop looked around, and seeing no way out of answering, nodded. “I guess to you, yeah.”

“But… how? You’re not an angel. I know you’re not.”

“It’s a very long story. But, just know that I’m here to help, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I know.” Anna confirmed. “But… that glow… inside you… it… it’s calling out to me. I think it belongs to me.”

She reached out towards him and Dean grabbed her hand, “Anna, no.”

“What? Why?”

“You can’t have that. You won’t like it.”

“What is it? I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this, Dean. And everyone _but_ me seems to have the answers.”

“I know… it’s just, it’s complicated.”

Anna looked at him skeptically. “Complicated? Complicated was when the guy at my church showed up with his new boyfriend while he was still married to his very pregnant wife and was paying child support to his ex. _That’s_ complicated. My life right now isn’t complicated. It’s a nightmare.” 

Dean made a face. “Okay, yeah. Fair enough.”

“So please, Dean. Please, tell me what’s going on. Everything. I need to know.”

Dean dragged his hand down his face and then scrubbed it roughly through his hair, wincing as it bumped his wound. He really didn’t want her to know. But did she deserve to know?

Before he could make a decision, however, the whole house began to shake and the lights started to flicker.

“Damn it!” Bobby grumbled. “Ya led yer party here.”

“We’re cloaked!” Dean started to protest, but then stopped. Sure he and Sam had the sigils on their ribs and Cas had his own disguise and even Anderson, although his abilities had prevented Cas from protecting him in the same way, now carried a charm that hid him from angels as well, but Anna could still be tracked. “Oh crap.” 

“Downstairs.” Bobby ordered.

Dean grabbed Anna and led the way. He knew that their only chance to remain safe for the moment was to get into the panic room. Hell, if they got there fast enough, maybe the angels wouldn’t realize that they were there and would leave. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but at this point Dean needed some hope to cling to. 

The young hunter pulled open the heavy door, pushed Anna in and rushed inside, making certain that his brother was right behind him. Cas and Bobby were next. The angel was only allowed in because of the special talisman that he carried that also let him pass through the protected home of the Winchesters’. Bobby stood waiting to close the door the moment that everyone was in, but as Anderson went to cross the threshold, the young cop fell to his knees and let out a cry. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Sam asked.

“Damn it!” Bobby looked over at them. “He carrying grace still?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

“This room don’t want angels in it. It’s trying to reject the angel grace that’s in his body.”

“What do we do?” Sam wanted to know. “We can’t leave him out there. The angels are coming and they’ll kill him!”

“We cannot take the grace out of him and leave it out there for them to get.” Cas pointed out. 

Dean tried to quickly consider their options. “Can we bring the grace in separately?”

Bobby shook his head. “The sigils in this room are made to banish angels to Heaven. That’s where the grace would go if ya were to bring it in in a jar or something.”

“I can hold it in me.” Anderson spoke up through clenched teeth. “I’m not an angel, so I can’t be banished, and I can hold the grace in. Just… just pull me into the damned room.”

Dean looked warily at Bobby. The older hunter shrugged.

“I got no other ideas and we got no more time.”

The two hunters lunged forward and grabbed the policeman, pulling as hard as they could. The invisible force held firm for a few more seconds before releasing Anderson. All three men sprawled down on the floor of the panic room. Sam ran over to shut and lock the door.

Dean rolled over onto his back as the room seemed to spin around him. Damned concussion. Freakin’ head wound. Screw it all. He fought passed it and sat up. Bobby had already gotten to his feet. Anderson was lying on his side curled up into a ball, still clutching at his middle.

“Hey… hey, Anderson, you okay, man?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s actually a bit better now that I’m in. Just some discomfort is all.” 

“Uh huh.” Bobby broke in. “Discomfort as in ‘damn I shouldn’t have eaten that second burger’ of discomfort as in ‘oh God, my insides are being ripped apart’?”

Anderson let out a short laugh. “Uh, somewhere in between. I just… it feels like the grace is trying to be torn from my body, but it can’t be. But I’ll be okay. I could use some help sitting up, though.”

Dean watched as Bobby and Cas pulled the cop up and propped him up against the wall. He seemed a bit pale, but otherwise alright. 

After a moment, Anna spoke up. “Grace?”

“What?” 

Everyone faced the girl.

“He’s holding angel grace in him.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, but he’s not an angel.”

“He’s a friend.” Sam assured her. “He’s here to help.”

“But… it’s mine.” Her gaze was fixed on the policeman.

Oh crap. This was a problem. “Anna…”

“I knew… the moment I saw the glow in him, I knew that it was mine. And now you are all saying that it’s angel grace. But how? How is that possible?”

“Anna…” Dean tried to get her attention again.

But she was done listening. Before he could move from his spot on the floor to stop her, she darted forward and grabbed onto Anderson.

In that moment a million scenarios ran through Dean’s head ranging from very bad to even worse. Everything from Anna pulling her grace from the young man’s body somehow to the mere contact killing them both (not likely but, knowing their luck, Dean wouldn’t rule it out). From his position, Dean saw both of them look shocked and then a soft glow radiated out from their eyes. Anna gasped and released her hold, her eyes returning to normal. Anderson squeezed his eyes shut and, when he reopened them, they’d returned to their usual brown color.

“Anderson?” Dean asked.

He seemed to understand the unspoken question “It’s still in me.”

One bullet dodged.

“I remember.” Anna looked around the room in wonder. “Not all of it, but enough. I was an angel. And I left. And I don’t ever want to go back.”

A million more bullets left to dodge. 

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Castiel walked through Heaven, away from his conference with Raphael. The archangel had not been pleased at Castiel’s ‘failure’. In fact, he was being punished by being taking off this assignment and sent to contemplate how to better serve his superiors in the future. This was just fine. Castiel was not eager to be put in yet another position where he’d have to fight either the Winchesters or their friends. 

He passed a few angels that he knew to be very loyal to Raphael. They nodded at him and went on their way. Castiel knew that they had not been sent to watch him. The only angels that were to be kept under close observation were those suspected of betrayal. And Castiel was not on that list. He was seen as very loyal.

He wandered away from where many of the angels often gathered. It was funny. Heaven was expansive. Endless, almost. But still, many of the angels often stayed in the same areas all the time. Castiel wondered why. Recently he’d started wondering quite a few things about his brothers and sisters. And he wondered if that was a good thing or not.

After a time, he came to the personal Heaven where he most often found Michael. And, as he suspected, the archangel stood there watching the small boy play out in the distance.

“Michael.”

“Castiel.”

“Raphael is making moves against the Winchesters yet again.”

The more powerful angel’s shoulders drooped. He looked tired. “This does not surprise me. It still saddens me, after everything, but I’ve grown accustom to his ways.”

“Yes, well, his newest move was to target Anna.”

Michael turned to face him. Despite his previous declaration, he now seemed surprised. “No one knew where she was on earth.”

“It appears that she was located. He had spies in several churches. One saw or overheard something that made him suspicious.”

“And the Winchesters were involved how?”

“They are trying to protect the girl. I was sent with a team to retrieve her grace. One of their friends was there. When the other angels attempted to kill him, he stole their grace and used it. I do not know how such a thing is possible, but I saw it with my own eyes. I aided in his escape.”

Michael nodded, taking this information in stride. Castiel knew then that the mystery of that man was not such a mystery to the archangel. “That man, Scott Anderson, is to be protected. And his abilities are to be kept secret. You did well, Castiel. And Raphael did not suspect your true allegiance?”

“He did not.”

Michael smiled. “Then he is twice the fool I thought he was. But he is still a dangerous fool.”

“Do we just continue to watch this play out?”

“Anna is our responsibility, not the Winchesters’. I’ll need a few angels that are completely loyal to me.”

Castiel nodded. “And me?”

“Go make certain that you are seen doing whatever Raphael has tasked you with doing for now. I don’t want your loyalty to him questioned when all this is done.”

Castiel inclined his head just a bit. Then he turned to leave, sensing the meeting was over.


	219. One Door Closes

Chapter Two Hundred and Nineteen: One Door Closes 

Sam sat next to Dean on one of the cots set up in the panic room. Everyone was quiet now. Mostly because there didn’t seem to be anything to say. Anna had figured out what she was, but didn’t want to talk about it. Bobby had already been filled in about everything that had gone down and was now standing by the door, occasionally sliding the little window open to peek out and listen to see if anything was happening. And so far nothing was. Cas was standing and staring at Anna. And Anderson had yet to move from his spot by the wall, and still looked to be holding his insides in place by wrapping his arms around his middle. So really, there wasn’t much for Sam or Dean to do but to sit and rest up for the next confrontation (because if there was one thing that he was certain of, it was that there would be another one soon enough).

“Dean, do you think the angels made it into the house?” Sam asked quietly.

“Doubtful.” His brother answered. “They shook us up a bit to announce their arrival, but there would’ve been bigger fireworks if they’d come in. And they’d probably be lurking by the door.”

“So they’re just waiting outside?”

“Or they didn’t sense us anymore and checked out.” Dean shrugged.

“But we won’t know unless we open the door to go check.” Bobby broke in. “And if they are still around, that’ll sound off the alarms for sure.”

Sam bit his lip. “Is there any way we can cloak Anna and her grace. I mean, I know Cas can’t use his powers in here to give her the same sigils on her ribs, but what if we just drew it. Like, Anderson just has it on a charm, so maybe just a drawing would work too.”

Dean nodded. “Good thinking. Then they couldn’t sense her. But the grace is still an issue. As soon as that door opens, they’ll be able to sense it.”

Anna looked over to them, then to Anderson. “Use it.”

He looked startled. “What?”

“Use it. You can use angel grace, right?” At his nod, she continued. “Then use it. Get rid of it for good.”

“Anna…” Cas started.

“They’ll still be after you.” Dean pointed out.

“I know.” She admitted. “But you’re keeping my grace in case I want it back. I don’t. I cast it out for a reason. Because I hated being an angel. So, why would I want to take it back now?”

“If I use it, it’s gone for good.” Anderson told her. “No changing your mind later.”

“I understand.” She said, sounding much older than she looked. “To be honest, when I cast it out, I didn’t think I’d ever see it again, so I wasn’t looking for a second chance.”

“Anna, are you sure that this is what you want?” Cas questioned.

She looked over to him. “If I became an angel again, would it help?”

He shook his head. “No. Not in the long run. Things… they may not turn out very well for anyone. But, perhaps…”

“Castiel.” She stopped him. “Thanks for your concern. Really. And I’m very glad to see that you’ve found some form ‘happiness’ as an angel. But I just couldn’t. I’m happy as a human, though. And I want to grow up, maybe fall in love, get married, have kids, and eventually die. I want to live a life and I can’t do that with my grace.” She turned from Cas back to Anderson. “You’re in pain in here holding that inside of you. And you’d risk your life if the angels found you with it. Please, use it now. I don’t want it back and maybe you can figure out something to do with it.”

Anderson looked over at the brothers. Sam realized that the cop felt so out of his depth and was looking for a bit of direction. The young man knew that Dean had a lot more experience and was hoping for a bit of help in figuring out what to do. Sam could understand. He himself wasn’t sure what he’d do in that place. He felt like Anna’s wishes should be respected, but she was young now and under distress and there was a possibility that she might later regret this decision. 

So Sam too looked to Dean. His brother would know what to do. Not only was Dean the most experienced one here, but he had never let Sam down and always made the right call when it came to helping others. 

Dean made eye contact with Anderson and nodded. Sam had a feeling that his brother had made up his mind about what to do if this situation came up since he’d first taken on this job. Maybe even before then. 

“Alright.” Anderson agreed, turning back to Anna. The girl looked relieved.

“Can ya even do that?” Bobby inquired. “There’s so many sigils in here to block out that kind of stuff and Cas here even said that _he_ can’t use his powers.”

The cop nodded. “I’m not an angel. It’s… I don’t know. I don’t really understand what I do, but I don’t feel like I’d be stopped. I don’t think I could use it to teleport us out of here because of the barrier around this place. But yeah, I think I could use it.”

“Can you heal Dean’s head?” Sam spoke up. After all, there didn’t seem to be any offensive use for the grace and angels could heal people… And even though Dean was playing it cool, Sam could see that the head wound was worse than his brother was letting on.

“Sammy, I’m fine. And what about you? You said you had whiplash or something.”

“I’m not the one that’s gonna need stitches and has an obvious concussion, Dean.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You’ve been to Hell, of course you’ve had worse.”

“So, you agree that I’ll be fine.”

Sam shook his head. “What? No! That was _not_ what I meant! I was just saying that you could be in the hospital with limbs missing and still say that you’ve had worse. That line means nothing coming from you and certainly doesn’t mean that you should turn down help.”

“I just want to make sure that you’re taken care of first, Sammy.”

“I get that Dean, but you need it more.”

“Guys,” Anderson interrupted. Sam looked up to see that he’d gotten up and had walked over to their cot. “Just so you know, I’ve never done this before. I have no clue what I’m doing here.”

“You never do.” Dean shrugged.

The policeman placed one hand on Dean’s head and his other one on Sam’s. Sam held his breath and crossed his fingers, hoping that it would work and that Dean would be healed. 

The first thing he noticed was that the pain in his neck and shoulders eased up almost immediately and then disappeared altogether. Along with it went the headache that had been starting to form. Sam went to say something about it working when he realized that his leg was tingling a little bit. When they’d first made it to Bobby’s house it had been bugging him, as the still-healing burns had a tendency to do when he strained his leg too much, but Sam had ignored it and eventually it had dulled to a weak throb and the pain had been all but forgotten. But now, the tingling sensation called his attention to it once more, and the boy realized that the pain there was completely gone.

Sam didn’t know how long the whole process took, probably only seconds, but practically at the moment that he noticed that his injuries no longer bothered him, Anderson pulled his hand back and stepped away. The young cop stumbled a bit and shook his head as if to clear it. 

“You okay?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, fine. You?” 

“Great actually.” He turned to Dean. His brother was the one that he was the most concerned about. He needed to know that the older boy was okay. But once he was facing Dean, he froze. Because not only was the wound on his brother’s head gone, but something else was different as well. For as long as Sam could remember, Dean had always had a light scar running down the side of his face. When he was old enough to know, he’d been told that a demon had cut Dean with a knife when he’d been very young. But now… now that scar was gone. “Dean…”

“I feel good. Really good.” His brother confirmed.

Sam scurried behind the older Winchester and pulled up the back of his shirts.

“Hey!” Dean protested. “What the hell, Sam! I’m not putting on a show here.”

“Dean, they’re gone!” Sam exclaimed.

“The burns? Yeah, I felt the…”

“No… I mean, yeah, the burns are gone but not _just_ the burns. Everything’s gone. All your scars from… you know.” Sam didn’t want to bring up Dean’s time with Alastair. But it was true. His brother’s back was clear of any kind of mark whatsoever. 

“What?” Dean pulled up his own shirt a bit higher to examine his stomach and chest. Sam looked around and saw that the claw marks from when he’d had the hallucinations of the hell hounds had disappeared as well. Not a scar was left behind. “Holy crap…”

The brothers looked at each other in amazement. On impulse, Sam flung himself into Dean and hugged him tight.

“This is so great, Dean.”

His big brother hugged him back, but still seemed to be in shock. Sam couldn’t blame him. It was quite a surprise to see Dean completely unscathed for once. 

Dean pulled back from Sam to look up at Anderson. “You do good work.”

“Uh, thanks. I just, I was thinking about healing and… and that happened.”

“Well, thanks.” Sam added.

He looked over to Anna who was looking very content and a bit relieved. Dean got up and walked over to her. 

“You still feeling okay with all of this?”

Not like they could change their minds now.

“Yeah. It’s like, like there’s a weight off my shoulders. I didn’t even know it was there and now it’s gone. I never have to worry about returning to that life again. Thank you. All of you.”

“Well, thanks for the use of your grace.”

“I’m glad it could help.”

“Well, it’s nice that everyone’s happy,” Bobby interrupted. “But we still got ourselves a situation here.”

Dean nodded. “We need to go out and take a look around. See if any angels are lurking around the property or if they gave up. Bobby, you and Anderson take the front. Sam and I will check out the back. Cas, you stay with Anna in the house and make sure it’s clear, alright?”

Everyone agreed. After Castiel had drawn out a sigil on a sheet of paper for Anna to keep with her to hopefully keep her hidden from the angels, they got ready to go. Sam pulled the bottle of holy oil out of his pocket and held onto it tightly. Dean picked up the angel blade that he’d taken from their latest encounter and nodded to him.

The brothers went to the door and hesitated. After a moment, Dean opened it and Sam tensed up. But nothing happened. They glanced back and Cas, Anderson, and Anna all shook their heads. No one sensed anything yet. 

Sam followed Dean up the stairs. He was thrilled that his brother had paired them off in the same team. He loved getting the opportunity to hunt side by side with Dean. He knew that part of his brother’s reasoning had probably been to protect him, but he liked to think that another part was because they worked well together and that Dean trusted him to watch his back.

They made their way outside and around to the piles of old cars out in the back of Bobby’s property. Sam kept an eye out for anything that seemed out of place. But so far, everything appeared to be normal. There were obvious signs that something had knocked over some of the vehicles and scrap earlier but for the moment, all was quiet. 

Until two angels appeared right next to Dean. Sam opened his mouth to yell a warning when he heard the flutter of wings, and then felt himself being flung to the ground.


	220. Interlude

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty: Interlude 

Dean had no time to react when he felt the hands grab onto him. One moment he was in the maze of cars and junk that made up Singer Salvage, and the next he felt that weird sensation of angel express and his surroundings had changed. Drastically. 

Dean pulled away from the two angels that had grabbed onto him, which wasn’t that difficult as they had released him the moment they had arrived at their destination. The hunter raise his angel blade and held it out towards them as he looked around. He was in a park of some sort. There was a large, grassy area where he was standing, surrounded by dense trees on all sides. Above him the sky was a beautiful, clear blue. Too blue. And the grass was too green. Everything was just a bit off. The whole place seemed a bit surreal. 

“Where am I? What is this place?”

“Heaven.” A voice behind him supplied. 

Dean turned enough to see the newcomer without letting his guard down on the two angels that had kidnapped him. Confrontation 101: keep everyone in your line of sight.

“Well, thanks for the informative, but rather quick, guided tour. I’d like to go back now, though.”

The angel smiled. He stepped forward and Dean turned the blade on him. 

The new angel didn’t seem threatened. “You won’t need that, Dean. I mean you no harm.”

“Yeah, well, forgive me for not taking your word for it.”

“No, that’s quite alright. What is it that you humans are fond of saying? Better safe than sorry?”

“Something like that.” Dean nodded. “Although I prefer ‘decapitate now, ask questions later’.”

“Feel free to try, but your weapon won’t have the desired effect on me.”

“I’ve seen these things have quite an effect on your kind.”

“Not on _my_ kind.”

That’s when it struck Dean. This wasn’t just any angel he was talking to. This was an archangel. 

“Michael.”

“Yes.”

“But… how?”

“I had some of the angels most loyal to me pull you from…”

“No, I mean how am I talking to you without being blinded or deafened.”

“Oh. That. Well, this is Heaven. I chose a form that would allow you to view me without any ill effects. It’s the form of a vessel I used many years ago for a very brief time.”

Dean looked him over. “Well… it’s nice. You know, in the not-harmful-to my-senses kind of way.”

Michael inclined his head. “I need to speak with you.”

“Good for you. I need to get back and make sure that Sammy is alright.”

“He is fine.”

Dean sighed. “Great. But I’d really rather see that with my own eyes.”

Michael nodded. For a moment, the young hunter was pleased, thinking that he had reasoned with the archangel and was about to be sent back to Bobby’s. But then he heard the rustling of feathers to his left and caught one of the other angels vanishing and realized that the nod hadn’t been meant for him. Damn it.

But, a second later, the angel was back, with his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Dean was beyond relieved to see that the younger teen was okay. 

“Dean!” 

“Hey, Sammy.” As his brother ran up to him, Dean cast a look towards Michael. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I’m aware of that. But it was what I could do for the moment. I really _do_ need to speak with you but don’t want you to worry for your brother.”

“And you know that I’d be uncooperative if you didn’t play ball with me.” Dean added.

Michael looked confused. “I’m not sure we have time for a game of…”

Damn. “So you know ‘better safe than sorry’ but not ‘play ball’?”

“It’s a saying then.” Michael nodded. “And in the context, I assume you mean that you wouldn’t cooperate with me if I didn’t cooperate with you.”

“Do all angels need to take lessons on human expressions?”

“Do all the different cultures on your planet understand every saying that each other has?” The archangel shot back. “Those that have watched your people would most likely understand your sayings the best. But to others, you can appear very strange.”

Dean smirked. “Right back atcha. But anyways, what’s so important that you had to pull me away from an epic battle against _your_ kind.”

Michael scowled. “You know full well that those that attack you have been sent by Raphael, not me.”

“Never said that you sent them.”

“Your attitude said enough. I understand that you don’t like angels, Dean. But that is why I needed to inform you that I’ll be sending down some angels to deal with Raphael’s misguided troops.”

Dean was surprised. “What? But, I thought you had a hands off policy. You know, to avoid a civil war or something.”

“I cannot opposed Raphael directly in regards to the Apocalypse because that is a sensitive topic that will make the angels on both sides rally behind us and the fighting could potentially spill down out of Heaven and create chaos and cause destruction over all of my Father’s creations. But this is not related to that. Anna was an angel. And she served under me. For Raphael to order her death like this is an extreme defiance of which I will not stand for. So, I will find and order Raphael to stand down for Anna will be placed under my protection. And I will send angels back with you to fight by your side while I do this.”

“Well… that’s awesome.” Dean conceded. “You know, _if_ they’re trustworthy. Because the last thing I need is to have even more angels down there that I need to watch out for.”

“They are.” Michael declared. Dean had expected him to take offence, but instead the archangel seemed more earnest than anything.

“And how do I tell your angels from Raph’s?”

“Yeah, we don’t want to kill the wrong ones.” Sam spoke up from where he stood at Dean’s side.

“I had them dress for the occasion.”

Dean turned as he heard more angels gather behind him. The hunter couldn’t help but smile. As opposed to all of Raphael’s angels who were wearing the typical three piece suits, these five angels were dressed in jeans and plain t-shirts. One even had on a flannel shirt.

“When in Rome.” Dean joked. 

Michael nodded once. “These are Nemamiah, Ezekiel, Rehael, Samandriel, and Anahita. They are among my most trusted.”

The four male and one female angels all bowed slightly towards Michael and then repeated the action to Dean.

“Uh, yeah… that’s great. So if we can all get going, I’m sure help is needed back on earth…”

“One more thing.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s always something, isn’t it?”

“I believe you’ll like this.” Michel insisted. He held out his hand, palm up, and stood there.

“Uh, you want me to give you five? Or is this an ‘all for one and one for all’ kind of a thing?”

“Just step forward.” The archangel instructed.

Dean did so, a bit hesitantly, with Sam right on his heels.

“Okay, now…” And before the word ‘what’ could pass through his lips, a sword appeared in Michael’s hand.

The weapon looked like a cross between an angel blade and a short sword. The hilt was stunningly beautiful, with the grip wrapped in a very dark material while the pommel and guard shined a brilliant silver with symbols etched into them and filled in with what appeared to be gold. The blade was likewise shiny, and Dean wasn’t sure what it was made of, but it seemed to glow in Michael’s grip. 

“Nice.” Was all he could think to say.

“It is the sword of an archangel.” Michael informed him. “My sword.”

“Well… it’s impressive.” Dean looked down at the regular angel blade that he held in his hand and thought about making a joke about over-compensating, but decided against it.

“Yes, it is. And it can kill anything as long as I am the one wielding it. _And_ it will be almost as effective in your hands.” The archangel held the weapon out further away from his own body and gestured to Dean to take it.

“What? Me?”

“Yes. You are my true vessel. In your hands, this sword will kill demons and angels alike, along with many other evil beings you will encounter along the way. It will not be as strong for you as it is for me, but if it falls into another’s hands, it will be nothing more than a regular sword for them.”

Dean looked at the proffered weapon. “So, I could take out most demons and angels, but not like, Lucifer or anything.”

Michael nodded. “Only an archangel using that sword would have the power to kill another archangel.”

“So, what can that do that a regular angel blade can’t?”

“It is capable of delivering a fatal blow to much stronger beings than a normal blade. Also, once you learn to wield it properly, you can cut a possessed host and bleed the corrupted demon soul right out of them. Then the sword can pierce the smokey form and end it.”

“Whoa!” Sammy exclaimed.

“That’s… impressive.” Dean admitted. “And how do I learn that?”

“Practice. You will connect with the sword with use and then you’ll know.”

Dean cast him a skeptical look. “Yeah, okay.” The hunter looked over at his brother. Sam met his eyes and Dean silently asked what the younger boy thought. He nodded. Dean handed the angel blade he’d been holding off to Sam and reached out for the archangel sword.

As his hand closed around the grip, Dean could swear that he felt a rush of power run up his arm and throughout his body. The sword didn’t glow as bright in his hand as it had for Michael, but there was still a shine to it.

“And you’re sure that you won’t need this?” The hunter asked.

“It’s of no use to me in Heaven.”

“Yeah, well… This doesn’t mean I’m ever going to say yes to you.” Dean confirmed.

“It’s not a bribe, Dean. And I’m not even making that request of you. I just felt that it would do more good in your hands right now than it would sitting around up here.”

“As long as we’re on the same page.”

The archangel nodded and for once Dean found himself believing him.

A moment later, the surroundings changed once again and Dean was back at Bobby’s. He glanced down to see Sam raise the angel blade in preparation to fight. The five angels that Michael had vouched for stood at the ready.

“Hey, I need two of you to go find Bobby and Anderson and back them up. Let them know that you’re on their side as soon as you get there so you don’t end up dead. Two of you go inside and protect Anna along with Cas. And one lucky winner gets to stay with us.” Dean ordered.

The female angel stepped over to the one wearing flannel and they both vanished. Then two others disappeared. The one that remained nodded to Dean.

“I will fight by your side.”

“Awesome. And you are?”

“Ezekiel.”

“Well, Zeke, get ready ‘cause it won’t take long for them to realize that we’re back.”

“The fight will not last long. Only until Michael can find Raphael and order him to end this foolishness.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because Raph is just gonna be hanging around waiting to hear from big brother. Trust me, he’s gonna avoid Mikey as long as possible in the hopes that Anna gets killed before he has to have his little meeting.”

“We can hold out even longer.” The angel insisted.

“Definitely.” Dean agreed. “You up for it, Sammy?” He placed his free hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.

Sam looked at him and smiled. “Got your back, Dean.”

“Didn’t doubt that. Just remember;” He gestured to the angel blade in Sam’s hand. “The pointy end goes into the angel.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but any response was cut off when six angels appeared surrounding them.

“Show time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the angel Ezekiel because in the show Cas said that he was trustworthy. But remember that in this story Dean went back long before those events, so he has never even heard that name before.


	221. From Above

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-One: From Above

Dean was about to rush the angels that had just appeared, when Ezekiel stepped forward and spoke.

“Brothers and sisters; please cease in your actions. Michael has sent me to stop you from harming Anna. Raphael’s actions are being put to and end as we speak and there is no reason for any violence.”

_Right, like that would work._

One angel stepped forward, looking somehow douchey-er than the rest. He raised his blade with his right hand while smoothing down his suit jacket with the other.

“The reason for violence is to eradicate all those who stand in our way. You included, if you continue with your pointless cause.”

“Pointless?” Zeke actually seemed confused by that proclamation. “Michael himself has ordered…”

“I have not heard these orders.”

“I just delivered them.”

“Perhaps you lie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Or perhaps you’re just being a jackass. Look, Michael says stand down. So, stand the hell down.”

“And now we take orders from _you_?” Douche angel snorted dismissively.

“See what I have in my hand?” Dean held Michael’s sword up high. “I sure as hell didn’t yank this thing out of my ass. It came from the leader of _your_ heavenly army. So yeah, I think I know what his orders to you are.”

The angel sneered at him. “ _My_ orders come from Raphael. And until _he_ says stand down, I fight.”

The other angels all drew their weapons. Well, except for geeky-looking one who stepped away from the group.

“This is madness. Ezekiel has brought word from Michael to end the mission and Michael’s true vessel carries his sword, yet you would have us continue this?”

“We follow Raphael.” The lead angel insisted.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t if it leads to nothing but killing. I will return to Heaven myself and ask Michael…” Before he could finish, douche angel lunged at him and went for a killing blow.

Dean had seen the move coming. The hunter ran forward and brought up the angel sword, stopping the blade mere inches from piercing geek angel’s body. The angel stood, wide-eyed with shock.

“Go!” Dean ordered. “Get out of here. Tell Michael to hurry his feathered ass up. The troops down here aren’t gonna stand down until Raph makes ‘em.”

The angel finally woke up from his surprised stupor and nodded. Then he vanished.

After that, there was no more time for words. Dean focused all of his energy on not getting himself killed as douche angel attacked with a speed and ferocity that spoke of training and practice. The guy might be a total ass, but he’d been put in charge for a reason. But what the angel didn’t know was that Dean had two life times’ worth of experience to back up his fighting. 

Suddenly, a blade came dangerously close to his face and most likely would’ve cost him an eye if Sam hadn’t noticed the female angel attacking Dean from the side before the older hunter had. But the younger Winchester had ducked away from the angel that he’d been fighting and came around behind the angel chick to stab her in the ribs. She crumbled to her knees, dropping her weapon. Dean nodded his thanks as his little brother returned his attention to his previous foe.

He heard the clank of blades meeting nearby and knew that Zeke was busy as well, but didn’t spare a glance that way. He needed to focus on his opponent. Douche angel swung the blade at his middle and Dean jumped back, spun to the side, and the swept around to bring his weapon into the angel’s neck. 

Unfortunately, the douche-bag whirled away at the last possible second and the sword merely sliced his shoulder and partway across his chest. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it was deep and would hurt him. 

And it ended up hurting the angel more than Dean expected. What looked to be grace seemed to leak from the wound like blood, running down his clothes to drip onto the ground in a pool and then go dark. 

Douche angel clutched at the wound in pain and surprise. Then his expression went from agony to rage and he glared at Dean.

Dean cried out as he felt like his insides were boiling. The hunter tried to move forward to deliver a killing blow to stop the angel and his attack, but he couldn’t get his body to respond. He crumpled to his knees, wrapping his arms tightly around himself… as if _that_ would help. A glance to the side revealed that Sam saw his predicament, but was in no position to rush to his rescue this time. The teen was on his own and couldn’t do a damn thing to stop himself from dying painfully.

But then, the angel that had been in the process of killing him slumped to the ground, and the agony that Dean had been experiencing ended. Dean got shakily to his feet and looked over at his foe. Douche angel was pale and trembling as he lay on the ground, with the last bit of liquidy light now trickling out of him. Then his eyes closed. 

Dean was about to move away when the dude’s eyes shot back open and the wound began to pump out blood. The man looked up at him with a pained and panicked look. He opened and closed his mouth, but it was like shock had stolen his words. And looking in the man’s eyes, the hunter understood. This was the angel’s host, lying here bleeding to death.

“Zeke! Switch! I need your healing over here!”

Dean ran towards the angel and his opponents. Ezekiel took a moment to register the situation and then teleported himself to where the injured man was sprawled out on the ground. The young hunter didn’t bother to look back. The angel would take care of that, but Dean had his own things to worry about now. Like the two angel blades coming right at him.

He ducked under one, which had been trying to take his head off, and spun to avoid the next. Then Dean brought his sword around to cut into the angel closest to him. The sharp blade sliced into the angel’s back. He cried out in pain and swung his weapon at Dean. But there was no light-leaking effect like before. Maybe Dean hadn’t cut deep enough? Or was there a certain spot? It wasn’t like the damned weapon had come with instructions.

And he wouldn’t find out right then, either. Because as the angel lunged, his options became limited to stab or be stabbed. Dean moved his sword into position to defend himself and seconds later the angel fell to the ground dead.

He looked around for the other one, but saw him lying dead as well. Zeke had finished with the healing routine and had returned to the battle. Dean spun around to find Sam running towards him. The kid had won his fight as well. 

Dean jogged over to meet his brother halfway.

“You did great, Sammy.”

“That was… it was intense.”

Dean knew that Sam wasn’t used to killing. He pulled the boy into a hug. “Yeah, but you were awesome. You really saved my ass out there.”

The younger Winchester grinned. “What are brothers for, right?”

“The fight isn’t over.” Ezekiel interrupted.

“Then let’s go help finish it.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

The angels that had appeared fought brutally and Scott Anderson was tiring. The powerful beings had quickly discovered that using their powers resulted in losing them and now were resorting to hand to hand combat, which wasn’t the policeman’s strong suit. Not when ‘hand to hand’ meant using swords. So he was trying to use the stored grace in him to defeat the remaining adversaries, but truthfully Scott didn’t have much practice fighting angels this way. Demons he’d learned how to handle (not that he wanted to sign up to fight them frequently) but using angel grace against angels was not as easy. He had a theory that it was because that power hadn’t been created for that purpose. Still, if he got creative, it worked.

Scott put his hand up and focused. He separated one of the graces inside of himself and aimed its power. Two of the angels that were nearest him stopped and started to burn up from the inside. The cop’s hand shook and he concentrated and put all his effort into the action. The angels fell. Scott wished he’d been able to have saved to hosts, but he hadn’t managed to figure out how exactly to pull the same trick he usually did with the demons.

As he was catching his breath, someone grabbed him from behind. Scott felt a blade press against his throat and had time to think _well, this is how I go out_ before he heard a gasp and then the sharp edge was gone. The angel that had almost taken his life dropped to the ground.

That was the moment Scott felt it. Two other angelic presences had joined them, and these ones felt distinctly different. As in, these ones didn’t want Bobby and him dead. He spun around to find a woman looking him over.

“I am Anahita. I am here to help.”

Scott gave a brief nod. “I figured that part out.”

“Nemamiah is fighting alongside your friend as we speak. Come. We must return to the battle.”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking about breaking for tea.” He grinned. “Let’s go.” 

Scott watched her turn her blade on the closest attacking angel. A turn of his head revealed an angel in plaid confronting two suited angels. Then a weapon almost took his head off and the policeman had no more time to observe the others.

After taking out two more angels, the front yard of Bobby’s property was almost clear. Until, of course, ten more angels appeared. Scott reached out to snatch away their graces as soon as he could. He grabbed onto four of them but before he could pull them from the angels, he was kicked to the ground from behind. 

Scott landed on his bad arm (which was really acting up that day and the extreme action wasn’t helping) and groaned, unable to push himself back up. He put his hands and knees under him to try and get moving again, but then a foot came down on his back. Scott closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. One angel, standing over him, holding him down with his foot. Two more approaching. They meant to kill him. Painfully.

The policeman pushed out with his power and heard all three angels scream and the pressure on his back disappeared. With a moan he rolled over onto his back and sat up to avoid any more pain in his right arm. Looking around, Scott saw three dead angels lying nearby. Bobby was pulling an angel blade out of the chest of an attacker who was clearly no longer alive. Anahita was locked in combat with an opponent who seemed to be outmatched and knew it. And Nemamiah… oh. Oh, man. The flannel-clad angel who had come to help them, who Scott had sensed was good but had never even spoke to, was lying on the ground dead. 

The young man got to his feet slowly and kind of sadly. The last of the attacking angels dropped. Scott stepped over to Anahita as she kneeled by her companion.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He offered.

“I’ve fought by his side for… longer than you could imagine. And to die at the hands of another angel… this is madness.”

“It is.” Scott agreed. 

“Michael is right. Our Father would be so ashamed.”

“Not of all of you.”

She looked up at him. “You believe that?”

“Completely.”

The angel nodded. 

“Look,” Bobby interrupted. “If we’re done with the caring and sharing portion of the day, this probably ain’t over.”

“And I am ready.” Anahita confirmed.

Scott felt every ache and pain in his exhausted body and sighed. “Yeah, me too.” And then more angels appeared just seconds before the ground started to shake.


	222. This Ends Now

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Two: This Ends Now

The house was protected. Of course it was. These people didn’t seem like the type to take any chances and, if they were going to be challenging the likes of Raphael, some protective measures would most certainly be necessary. Still, the house being protected was a bit of an inconvenience for Samandriel. It meant that he and Rehael were stuck standing on the front porch waiting for someone to let them in so that they could carry out their orders rather than charging in and protecting Anna like he was supposed to be doing. Which left him feeling more like a Heavenly door to door salesman than the warrior that Michael was expecting him to be. 

After knocking (again) the door finally opened. And then all Samandriel could do was to stare in shock. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried once more to speak.

“Castiel?” He was pleased to find that his voice actually worked. Dean _had_ told him to ‘protect Anna along with Cas’ but he hadn’t realized that _Cas_ was actually _Castiel_. But he couldn’t be. Because Castiel’s host wasn’t quite so old. And, more importantly, Castiel was on Raphael’s side and thus should not be standing inside this house, working with Dean Winchester, and protecting Anna. Samandriel was confused.

Castiel inclined his head slightly. “Do you need something?” Samandriel saw the blade held tightly in his hand.

“My name is Samandriel.” He introduced himself, in case he wasn’t recognized. Castiel was known a little better than he himself was. Or maybe it was just that Samandriel payed attention to all of the angels that were higher up in garrisons than himself in the hopes of keeping on their good sides, especially with all the turmoil currently going on in Heaven.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh. Right. Well, Michael sent a few of us down to help with the situation here and Dean Winchester asked for myself and Rehael to assist you in protecting young Anna. But we cannot enter this place.”

Castiel seemed vaguely irritated. Whether it was at the situation or at him, Samandriel was unaware. 

“I’ll allow one of you to enter. The other has to stay outside and guard the door”

“The _protected_ door?” Samandriel questioned.

“Yes. If there is a problem with this, you can both stay outside.”

“You don’t trust us.”

“No. I have no reason to.”

“I was sent by Michael himself.” Samandriel pointed out. “If anyone is untrustworthy, it is you. You, who is known to work with Raphael.”

“Do I look like the Castiel that works with Raphael?”

“No.” He admitted. “But then how…”

“The less questions you ask, the less answers you have. The less answers you have, the safer and saner you will be.” Castiel replied. “But know this, I am on your side. And you should not speak of me to anyone after this.”

“I…” He was going to say ‘understand’ but that would’ve been a lie. “Alright. Now may I enter?”

The door closed in his face. Samandriel was taken aback. That had been exceedingly rude, especially since he felt that Castiel and himself had been starting to get along. But perhaps he’d said something to upset the other angel and now he was banished to this old front porch to stand watch with Rehael until the fight was over. It was not what he had intended, but he’d serve however he could.

Just then, the door was pulled opened once more. Before Samandriel could get a word out, a piece of paper was thrust into his hand.

“Do not lose that or you will be forcefully and painfully expelled from the premises. And I will not feel sorry for you as it will be your own fault for not following this one simple directive.”

He had only a second to observe the sigil scrawled on the scrap of paper before he was yanked inside and the door closed behind him. 

Samandriel shoved the paper deep into his pocket as he looked around the house that he was practically being dragged through. The place was a mess. Controlled chaos with a distinct lack of control. But the collection of texts and weapons looked extensive. This group seemed to know what they were doing. 

He was led to a room where a girl, young if he was being a good judge of human age, was sitting behind a desk absently leafing through a book. Anna. It had to be. She no longer was an angel, but there was still a… a _specialness_ to her.

The girl looked up upon their entry. “Castiel? Why are you bringing an angel in here?”

“He was sent by Michael to protect you.”

She made a face. “Michael… I… I think I remember him. The memories are jumbled and fading fast. But yeah, he was important. And strong. And he could be very kind. And he _always_ listened to Father.”

“Well, it seems he thinks that our Father wouldn’t wish for our other siblings to kill you.” Samandriel added in.

“Lucky me.” The girl smiled a bit nervously. 

“You have no reason to worry.” The angel attempted to comfort.

Just then the walls started to crack and splinter.

“And, with those words, you have cursed us.” Castiel stated.

“But this place is protected.” Samandriel protested. 

“So long as the sigils are intact, yes. It seems that they are trying to crack the walls enough to break them and render them useless.”

“Will that work?” Anna asked.

“It can. With enough power.”

Samandriel pulled his blade and held it tightly. “Then we will fight them.”

Castiel shot him a look. “Obviously.”

The moment the walls started to crack, angels appeared in the room. They all held their weapons in their hands. One stepped forward, lowered his weapon, and held out his hand.

Samandriel recognized him. “Uzziel.”

“We do not have to fight, Samandriel. If the girl will just come with us, this will all be over with.”

“No.” He shook his head. “This is not right. We should not be killing each other.”

“That is what I am trying to prevent by offering you this deal.”

“So that you can then kill Anna?”

“She is no longer one of us. She chose _this_.” He sounded disgusted.

“I understand her decision no better than you, but we are to respect it.”

“Why?”

“Because her life is not ours to take. Our father values…”

Uzziel almost spat his next words. “Values what? Humans? They ruined his paradise.”

“Whatever they have or have not done, it is not for us to punish them. He does not give us that right.”

“But Anna broke the rules.”

“She decided her own fate and Michael had determined that she is to be protected.”

“I have not heard of this decree.”

“If you are patient, you will.”

“No. Raphael has said that she is to perish.”

“Then we will have no choice but to stop you.” Samandriel declared.

He hoped that Anna would stay safe, because the five angels rushed forward as one and both he and Castiel stepped forward to meet them. 

Now, Samandriel wasn’t one of the best fighters in the garrison. It wasn’t that he _couldn’t_ fight, it was just that there hadn’t been a reason for him to fight in a very long time and it wasn’t one of the skills that he had kept up with. The angel made a mental note to work on that if he made it back up to Heaven after this.

Luckily, his opponent seemed even less proficient with a blade than he was. A glance to his right showed that Castiel was a _much_ more accomplished fighter than anyone else in the room. And to his left he saw… Anna! An angel was about to kill her.

But just then the whole house started to shake violently. So much worse than earlier when the angels were trying to get in. Anna and the angel that was threatening her both fell to the ground as did Samandriel’s opponent. Any light that wasn’t already turned on flickered to life. The walls shook and cracked, the windows shattered, and books fell from their shelves. The fighting came to a halt as everyone heard a loud voice.

Anna looked up and got to her feet.

“Yes.”

…  
…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…supernatural…  
…

Dean rounded the corner and saw Bobby and Anderson gearing up for another fight. They both looked more or less okay so the hunter figured that they’d have a good shot at winning this thing. Then the ground began to tremble. To his right, Sam stumbled and would’ve fallen had Dean not reacted and held him tightly.

The Winchester brothers stood there hanging onto each other as the earth shook. Cars that were stacked around the yard tumbled to the dirt and glass shattered all around. A deafening ringing sound began to echo all around. Dean and Sam fell to their knees as though the movement had been synchronized, holding their hands to their ears. A glance around showed Bobby doing the same, and the angels and Anderson glancing to the sky. Someone from above was talking then. Awesome. Hopefully they shut the hell up soon, before Dean’s ears began bleeding.

Then it all stopped. 

Dean had his fingers crossed that it was a good sign, but that was washed down the proverbial drain when seconds later Raphael appeared. 

One of the angels stepped forward to greet him.

“Raphael, we were following your orders, but…”

The archangel waved him off angrily. “I demand to know what this is all about!”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I think this is ‘all about’ you being a grade A douche bag and trying to off a former co-worker who just happens to be a little girl at the moment. So yeah… dick move.”

Raphael turned to glare at him. “I wasn’t talking to _you_.”

“Yeah, well, since it does involve me and my family and friends, I think I…”

The door to Bobby’s house burst open and Anna stepped out.

“I’ll take it from here.” Her voice was deeper than it had been. And her eyes were almost glowing with power.

Raphael turned to stare. “Michael. You won’t do a thing in that body. She isn’t a true vessel of yours and to use your power in her would be to burn her up. You wouldn’t dare.”

A calm smile that belied the power and emotions behind it appeared on Anna/Michael’s face. “Would you really push this into a situation where powers are required? I called you here to tell you and your ‘followers’ to stop this foolishness. I did not come here to fight. And I don’t think you’d wish to ever fight me, would you brother?”

The last sentence was a clear threat.

“No, Michael.” Raphael spoke through clenched teeth. “I apologize for this misunderstanding.”

“As long as we understand each other now. Please return to Heaven. All of you.”

All angels still standing, besides Michael himself, disappeared. Dean blinked in shock. He wasn’t dumb enough to believe that Raphael and his followers would never again darken the Winchester’s doorstep, but he was damned grateful that this was over with. Because never ending droves of angels was something he hated dealing with.

“I too will be going now.” Michael announced. “This body was not meant to hold me and I do not wish to harm her. But know that Anna and her family are protected. Until the last of her line departs from Earth, they will be protected from both Heaven and Hell.”

“Thank you.” Dean responded “I’m still not sure about trusting you. Lots of issues there, but yeah… maybe you’re not as bad as I thought.”

Anna/Michael smiled. “It’s a place to start.”

The girl closed her eyes, gasped, and then opened them again. She looked around in wonder. “That was… intense.”

“Are you okay?” Sam wanted to know.

“I think so. I mean, I feel a bit tired, but otherwise, yeah.”

“You said yes to Michael?” Dean questioned.

“He asked for temporary housing just to clear this mess up. Said it would be less than five minutes and that he wouldn’t let me get harmed. I didn’t want an angel in me, but I just wanted this to be over and for my family and me to be safe.”

Dean looked around. “Well, you did okay.”

“And you all did amazing.” Anna responded. “I really want to thank you for everything. I’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for everyone here.”

“It was a group effort. And quite frankly, I’m surprised we did as well as we did.”

“ _Well?!_ ” Bobby broke in. “Look around you, ya idgit! My house is trashed! It’s gonna take me forever to fix this place up and you call this well?”

Sam was the first that started to laugh at Bobby’s reaction and then Dean joined in. Anna looked at the boys and began to giggle. Anderson smiled and shook his head in amusement while Cas stared blankly at the damage around them. Bobby just waved them off in mock anger. But the moment of levity made Dean feel a bit positive about the future, no matter what the more powerful beings out there might have in store for them.


	223. Salt and Burn

 

The air had turned a bit chilly. No surprise really as the sun had long since set and it was autumn. Still, Emily found herself wishing that she’d brought something warmer than her hooded sweatshirt. She clutched the material in her hands and inwardly cursed its ineffectiveness. _Sure, blame the clothes and not your lack of foresight._ The young woman rolled her eyes. 

 

After shivering again, Emily decided to put an end to her suffering. She scooted to the edge of the salt circle that she was sitting in and reached her arm out as far as she could. Almost… almost… just a little closer…

 

“I thought we agreed that you were staying _inside_ the circle?”

 

Emily jumped at Dean’s voice. She looked to where his head had popped up from the hole that he’d been digging. Dirt streaked his face and was matted in his sweaty hair. 

 

“I’m in.”

 

“If a ghost picked this moment to pop in, it’d grab your arm and yank your ass right out of the safe zone.”

 

“And then I’d warm right up while fighting for my life.” She responded while snatching Dean’s jacket up from where he’d discarded it on the ground and pulling it quickly into her ‘safe zone’. 

 

“You wouldn’t stay warm while bleeding to death.” Dean shot back.

 

Emily made a face. He was right, of course. And while she wanted to know more about his work (his life really), she didn’t want to die in the process. Which was why they’d decided on the fairly simple ‘salt and burn’ and Dean had insisted on her doing nothing more than watching from inside a thick ring of salt (but she _had_ gotten to help lay down the salt).

 

Still, she felt the need to continue the back and forth. It was kind of ‘their thing’ and it made her feel comfortable. “If I was a ghost and was just popping up right now, I’d go after the guy disturbing my grave, not the girl sitting around trying to stay warm.”

 

Dean pulled himself out of the freshly dug grave and picked up a water bottle. He yanked the cap off and gulped down some water. After wiping his chin with his arm, which succeeded in nothing more than smearing dirt all over himself, he responded. “I don’t know. If I were Peter McSilus, I might go right past the hard working hunter and attack the pretty young woman that was foolish enough to let herself be grabbed by my grubby, pervy hands.”

 

“Ewww!” Emily wrapped Dean’s jacket around herself tightly. “That’s just wrong.” Then she grinned. “ _But_ , what if pervy ghost isn’t into girls? Then he’d go after the hot young guy that’s stripped down to barely anything and playing around in the dirt. And I’d be safe.”

 

Dean looked down at his jeans and t-shirt. “I’m dressed just fine.” He protested. He’d started the night off with an over-shirt and a jacket as well, but had taken them off when he’d overheated from the strenuous work of digging up a casket. “Besides, if pervy ghost came after me, I’d shoot his pervy-ass with rock salt.”

 

“You sure you can handle him without any backup?” Emily asked, dropping the banter all together. “I mean, I’m here, but I’m not stupid enough to leave this salt circle and become a distraction for you that would most likely put you in even more danger _and_ get myself killed. So yeah, having your guardian angel here would’ve been a good bet.”

 

Dean snorted. “A salt and burn is something I can handle practically in my sleep. Even if it turns out to be a pervy ghost who tries to stop me from frying his pervy-ass.” The hunter slid back into the open grave. “And if I really _did_ need backup, I’d want Sam.”

 

“Really?” She questioned. “I mean, no offense to your brother or anything, but I’d rather have an angel watching my back than a teenage hunter-in-training.” Emily shrugged. “But I know how much Sam means to you, so…”

 

“But that’s just it; Sam and I, we have this rhythm to our hunting. We had it back in the old time line and I figured it would be gone forever when I came back here. Hell, even though I missed our connection I would’ve been glad if he’d gotten a chance to have a normal life. But I should’ve known that in our family that option was off the table. And now… now we’re getting our connection back. And it shows when we work together, you know. I’m not worrying ‘cause I know he’s got my back and Sammy feels the same. And even though he’s only gone on a handful of hunts he’s getting really good. With all our practicing together, we know each other’s moves.”

 

“And it doesn’t hurt that he knows so much about you.” Emily added. “From being in your head that time. And I bet you tell him stuff that you don’t tell anyone else.” She was answered by silence. “Yep, figured so.”

 

“You think you’re so damned smart, don’t you?” Dean’s teasing tone drifted back to her after a moment.

 

“I know I am.”

 

“Well, if you’re so smart, then it’s quiz time.”

 

Emily groaned. “No.”

 

“What?”

 

“No. Nope. No way.”

 

“Hey, this stuff is important.”

 

“I know. I mean, I have zero intentions of ever becoming a hunter, but the demons that I’ve encountered with you are proof enough that being with you requires knowledge of the supernatural to survive.”

 

“Then why…”

 

“Because the last time we hung out you made me memorize three different symbols to trap demons or banish angels. The time before that you quizzed me on the difference between creatures that I _still_ can’t pronounce correctly. And the time before that…”

 

“Okay!” Dean exclaimed. “Point taken.”

 

“The only paranormal talk I want to have right now is a discussion of more stories of your old life.” Emily sat back and waited. If Dean was in a good mood, he’d go along with it and she’d get to hear some remarkable (and somewhat disturbing) tales of his adventures in the other timeline. He rarely went into too much detail, and she knew that he avoided the really traumatic stuff, but still when he allowed her in, Emily appreciated it. 

 

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was doing a salt and burn with a friend of mine and the ghost rose up and dragged her screaming into the night?”

 

Emily rolled her eyes. “You’re funny.”

 

A chuckle came from the open grave. “I’ll tell you something for real later. But I just hit the casket. Time to get to work.”

 

She listened as he struggled to get the casket open. Emily briefly wondered what the corpse looked like. Would it be all gross and partially decomposed? Or would there be just mostly bones left? She hadn’t paid enough attention in her biology-type classes to know how long it took for bodies to rot away into nothing. Not that it mattered. The fire that Dean would set would destroy it no matter what was left.

 

A moment later, her friend crawled back out of the hole. He snatched up the container of salt from his bag. “Time to say goodbye to…” Dean didn’t get to finish.

 

Emily didn’t realize that she’d taken her attention off of the hunter and had looked down at her bag that was in the salt circle with her. Maybe it had been a reflex because Dean had gone to his bag? Maybe she was going to check to make certain that she still had the spare salt container stashed away in there? Whatever the reason, she missed what happened that sent Dean flying from his position near the edge of the grave to land right outside her protected area. 

 

Emily let out a cry of surprise.

 

Dean rolled to his knees and started to look around. “Goddamned piece of freakin’ dead crap.” He muttered.

 

She looked up and saw what he was talking about. A ghost. It was right there for one second, then it seemed to waver and was gone. Only to reappear right next to Dean in the blink of an eye. Emily gasped as the spirit looked right at her. The thing was creepy. Like, something straight out of a horror movie, but without the cheesy special effects. Still, she didn’t get the sense of pure evilness like she had when she’d encountered demons. It had been many years since she’d come face to face with the demon in that young girl, but that thing was far worse that this ghost could ever be. Still, as the ghost reached out and stopped at the salt barrier, Emily was thankful that she was protected. 

 

The ghost took its attention off of her and focused on something that it could get its non-corporeal hands on. Dean. As the young woman watched, it knocked him over onto his back and thrust its nasty-looking fingers right into his chest. The hunter’s eyes went wide and he started to make little pained, gaspy noises. Emily saw that he was still looking around for something. Then it dawned on her. His salt gun. 

 

But she saw it before he could and it was much too far away for him to grab in his current predicament. Emily knew better than to make a run for it. Leaving the salt ring was stupid. Sure Dean had been giving her ‘lessons to keep you alive in this crazy-ass supernatural hell-pit of a world’ (as he liked to call them) because, while she had no intention of becoming a hunter, she also had no intention of becoming a victim either and she knew that being close to Dean would lead to that if she wasn’t prepared. And at this moment, Emily acknowledged that making a mad dash for the salt gun would likely lead her earning the status of victim as well. Which wouldn’t help Dean or her.

 

But there was another way she could help. 

 

Emily opened up her pack and pulled out the bag of rock salt that had been stashed in there right at the top. She ripped the top open, spilling a bit on the ground, and poured some into her hand. When it was overflowing with the coarse grains, she flung the whole handful at the apparition. 

 

It flickered out of existence. Dean slumped to the ground. But he took no time to recover. As Emily watched, the young hunter momentarily pressed a hand against his chest, but then rolled over and crawled to his salt filled shotgun. Dean snatched it up and forced himself to his feet. Emily saw his left hand go back to his chest as he started making his way back to the open grave.

 

But the spirit was back already. And boy did it look mad. The young woman was trying to figure out if she was close enough to the ghost to get more salt on it (she could throw pretty damned far, but she was no baseball star) when her friend spun around with lightning fast reflexes and brought his weapon up to aim. A loud shot filled the air and a second later the apparition was gone. 

 

Dean wasted zero time. He rushed to the edge of the grave and started pouring the salt down into the hole. Then he dropped the container to the ground and proceeded to douse the coffin with lighter fluid.

 

Emily held her breath as her friend returned the bottle of accelerant to his bag and pulled out a lighter. But it looked like they were in the clear. Dead guy wasn’t going to reappear before Dean burned his corpse. 

 

Which, at exactly the moment that thought popped into her head, was the moment the ghost chose to return. He was far too late, though. Dean dropped the lighter into the open grave ( _wait, he was burning the lighter! How many of those things did he go through in his ‘job’?_ ). The fire sprang to life both in the grave and around the apparition. Emily watched with a sick sense of fascination as the humanish thing screeched and burned up right before her eyes. Then it was gone. 

 

“Well, that’s over with.” Dean commented. “Wanna go grab a bite to eat?”

 

“Wait? What? That’s it?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Ghost’s toast. No more haunting around here.”

 

“But… but what about the open grave? And the burned corpse? Aren’t you gonna cover it back up?”

 

Dean looked at her like she was crazy. “Hell, no. It took me forever to dig this thing up! And do you have any idea how tiring it is to dig up six feet of dirt in the shape of a big ass coffin? The freakin’ grounds keeper can fill the hole back in tomorrow. At least _he_ gets paid for his work.”

 

Emily couldn’t help but laugh at his little rant and the way he waved his hands around so animatedly while he spoke. 

 

“Fine.” She gave in. “But doesn’t a dug up grave with a burned up corpse raise a bunch of questions?”

 

“Sure.” Dean conceded. “That’s why Dad always taught us to fill it back in. But you know what _also_ raises questions? Graves that have been dug up and filled back in. And they raise even more questions ‘cause it looks like someone tried to cover something up that they didn’t want found. But if you leave the grave all half-assed like this, the authorities mostly chalk it up to Satan-worshiping teens and spend a few weeks looking into it before dismissing it as ‘damned kids with their heavy metal music’ just passing through.” The young hunter shrugged. “Works out just fine.”

 

“You got this all figured out, don’t you?”

 

He grinned. “Plenty of experience.”

 

Which was weird. Emily still had trouble grasping the concept of how Dean had led two very different lives. Well, different but still similar since both seemed to revolve around the supernatural. 

 

“Speaking of experience, thanks for the tag-along tonight. It’s nice to see what you do _without_ it being a life or death situation.” Emily commented as she watched Dean toss the supplies into the trunk of his car.

 

“Yeah, salt and burns are much more low-key than demon attacks.”

 

“Good to know I started off with the worst possible intro to this stuff.”

 

He opened the car door for her and she climbed in.

 

“You learned about the supernatural by coming face to face with Lilith. Nowhere to go from there but up.”

 

Emily favored Dean with a smile. “Well, it’s nice when things are looking up.” 

 

The hunter got in the car and started it. “Well, I just won’t call you during the next apocalypse, then. That’ll spoil the whole ‘good feelings’ mood.


	224. Deadly Hallway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. And please excuse any weird typos, as I can't type well with my wrist in a splint and thus did this chapter mostly on my phone using talk-to-text.

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty Four: Deadly Hallway 

“Run!” Dean yelled to the group of teens. “You gotta go faster, dammit!”

“Oh, god… oh, god, we’re gonna die!” The girl right in front of him gasped out through her tears.

“If you don’t keep moving, yeah, you are.” He shot back, putting his hand on her back and pushing her forward to get her to move faster. “Sammy! We still clear up ahead?”

“Yeah! And it looks like we’re almost there.”

“Awesome.”

Dean took a moment to glance behind him and didn’t see anything, but he could hear the scritching and scraping sound of the creatures’ claws coming quickly down the hall that they’d just come from. The things would be on them soon. They’d have to keep moving. And quickly if they wanted to stay alive. So the hunters ran, ushering the group of six teens past the locked classrooms, hoping that Jason was right and that the library would indeed be open. Because if the custodian had gotten around to fixing the lock on the room that day (which would be just Dean’s luck) they'd be screwed. 

The large double doors just came into view when Dean felt something heavy hit his back, and he went down. Hard.

“Son of a bitch!” He cried out as his body hit the floor and sharp claws dug through three layers of clothes to tear at his skin. 

“Dean!”

“Get them inside the room!” The older Winchester ordered his brother. He knew that Sam would worry but that he'd do what he'd been told. 

And Dean was counting on that now. If he couldn't get to his feet in time to make certain that the kids made it to safety, then Sam would be their best chance. Their only chance, really. Because if the corpses that the creatures had previously left behind were any indication, these critters were damn deadly. 

From his position on the cool tile floor, the hunter watched Sam give a glance back to him but continue to hustle the teens forward. Dean bit his lip to keep from crying out as the claws dug deeper into his back. His gaze caught the last pair of shoes disappearing into the library with ugly, deformed monster feet right behind them. If the creatures got in, everyone was done for… Slam! The door was shut with incredible force. Dean breathed a sigh of relief even as the thing on top of him continued to attempt to scratch him apart. 

He’d managed to keep a grasp on his weapon when he’d fallen, but there was no way that anyone but a freakin’ contortionist would be able to use a machete on something that was on their back. Hell, Dean would most likely do more damage to himself than the creature if he even tried. 

Then, with its back claws digging into his lower back and its front ones tearing at its shoulders, the thing lowered its face and bit Dean’s head. This time, the hunter did let out a scream. With all his strength, Dean pushed himself up on all fours and rolled onto his back. This time it was the creature that made a pained noise, almost like a squeal. The teeth and claws retracted momentarily and Dean flung himself off and away from the monster. Getting to his knees, the hunter finally got his first real good look at what he was up against. And it was certainly not going to be winning any beauty contests.

It would probably be about five feet tall if not for the fact that it was hunched over so badly that it appeared as if it had once been folded in half and had never fully recovered. Its gruesome, lumpy head sat crookedly on a scrawny, bent neck and its face consisted of one overly large left eye, a small squinty right eye, and a gaping maw filled with sharp teeth. Dean couldn't detect either a nose or any ears. Its arms were short and led to huge hands, each with four long fingers with dagger-like claws. Its legs were bent outward at the knees and it had misshaped stumps for feet that had talons poking out of them. And it currently looked like it wanted the hunter for its next meal. Which was a fate that Dean really wanted to avoid.

The hunter raised his machete in a defensive posture and waited to see what the creature would do next. He didn't have long to wait. The thing made of snarling noise and charged him. The teen swung his weapon right at the monster’s thin, bent neck. The force of his swing and the creature’s forward momentum took its head clean off.

Dean took a deep breath as he wearily eyed the rest of the creatures that were gathered around the library doors. They seemed to be debating whether to continue trying to get into the room that would hold a larger meal for them, or to rush the one lonesome human standing in the hall that had just ganked their buddy. They made a constant chittering noise that made the hunter wonder if they were talking with each other or if it was merely a sound they produced when excited… or hungry. Either way, he was holding his weapon tightly in anticipation for a fight.

Suddenly the chittering sound started up right near Dean’s feet. He looked down to see the decapitated head staring up at him and moving its mouth. And the body was pulling itself over to the head. The hunter raised his machete to chop it into tiny little pieces, but then others chose that moment to spring towards him. Dean jumped back and gave the non-headless things his full attention. He stabbed the first one to reach him through its chest. He then used his foot to kick the creature off of his weapon and shoved a second monster away from himself with his free hand. The thing retaliated by trying by trying to bite said hand off, but Dean was faster and chopped off its head. He slashed at a third and fourth creature, but when the other three started closing in, Dean admitted to himself that he just might be outnumbered. And that sentiment rang even more true as the monster he’d decapitated first got back up, holding its head in place as the mottled flesh seemed reconnected the appendage at a frightening speed. So, it was one hunter against eight creatures that could reassemble themselves. An ability Dean didn’t possess if they tore him into pieces.

So he figured out the best move to do under the circumstances. Dean turned and ran.

He knew from the high schoolers that he and Sam had rescued that the library was two floors high and that there was one entrance on the second story. His best plan of action was to try and get there. If he could find it, of course. And if it wasn’t locked. And if the monsters didn’t catch up to him first. And if… okay maybe it was a half-assed plan, but it was all Dean had.

As he took off in the direction he’d come from, Dean tried to ignore the pain radiating from his torn up back and the bite on his head. He hoped that the wounds weren’t bad enough to cause any issues with blood loss. The last thing he needed was to black out while trying to escape from the things pursuing him.

A moment later, Dean saw a door marked ‘Stairwell. Please keep door closed.’ and he threw himself into it, twisting the knob. The heavy door swung open on impact and he ducked through. His bad luck was holding out as he gave the door a once over and noted that there was no way to lock it. Still, he pushed it closed, hoping it would slow the creatures down. Then he darted up the flight of steps. 

He reached the top and yanked open the door with a brightly painted ‘2’ on it. After closing that behind him as well, Dean ran to his left. That was the direction the library was in, so hopefully he’d be at the entrance soon. And then he and Sam could regroup and figure out what to do with the seemingly indestructible monsters.

…  
...Supernatural...Supernatural...Supernatural...Supernatural...Supernatural…  
…

Sam paced inside the sealed library, ignoring the screaming, crying, and arguing of the teenagers that he and his brother had rescued. He needed to think. To find some way to help his brother. If Dean hadn’t been killed and eaten already… No. Dean was an awesome hunter and had survived far worse that this. He’d make it. He had to. But Sam couldn’t get the image of his big brother lying there, blood starting to coat his clothing, as the grotesque thing on his back tried to tear him apart, out of his head. He knew he’d done the right thing by getting the helpless high schoolers to safety. And it _was_ what Dean had wanted him to do. But abandoning his brother still grated on him. From what he’d seen/experienced in Dean’s memories, Sam knew that the older Winchester had been abandoned far too often in his life, and thus he’d sworn not to ever do that to him. But circumstances had forced him to leave Dean behind. But Sam wouldn’t give up on him. No way. He just had to find a way to…

“Are you even listening?” A guy, Danny he believed was the correct name, yelled practically in his ear.

Sam turned to him. “Yeah, you’ve been asking what’s going on. But it’s a pointless question right now. Because I have no clue. All I know is that three of your classmates have died recently and those things out there are to blame. And now, because you six were stupid enough to break into the school at night, my brother might meet that same fate. What were you all thinking?”

They all looked at each other, as if trying to figure out what story to tell. 

“It’s Paul’s fault.” A girl blurted out.

A scrawny looking teen glared at her. “Like hell, it is! I came here on my own. No one asked you to show up.”

“And what exactly were you doing here, geek.” Danny snapped.

“What were _you_ doing following me?”

“We had concerns…” The girl started to say but was cut off.

“Our friends died this week and we know you hated them.” Danny interrupted.

“So what? You thought I did it?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you snapped and went psycho.”

Paul scowled. “That incident in eighth grade? Man, you all have given me crap since elementary school and the first time I fight back…”

“You stabbed me with a pencil!” Jason cried.

“You deserved it!” Paul shot back. 

“And do we deserve to die now?” The girl, Claire asked tearfully.

“You saw what was killing people! It’s obviously not me!”

The other girl, Kelly snorted. “You probably are still thrilled that our friends are dead.”

“Well, I certainly won’t mourn those assholes.” Paul muttered.

Claire started crying as the boy next to her, Phil, put his arm around her.

“Take it back.” Danny stepped forward threateningly. 

“No.”

“Enough!” Sam yelled. “This is getting us nowhere. If we don’t want to end up dead, you all need to stow this crap.” He knew he was channeling Dean, but the younger boy didn’t care. “Fighting amongst ourselves is a distraction we can’t afford. We need to calm down and think this through.”

“Think what through?” Jason demanded. “How we’re gonna die?”

“But aren’t we safe in here?” Claire sniffled.

“Not if they can break down those doors.” Danny commented.

“Can they?” Kelly asked, looking at Sam.

“I don’t know. But it’s best to assume that they eventually will. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst.”

“So what’s next?”Phil spoke up.

“I need to figure out a way to help Dean. Then the two of us can come up with a plan to get you all out of here safely.”

“Well, you can’t go back out that door.” Claire protested. “You’ll let those… those things in.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid. But one of you mentioned that there was another entrance to here?”

“Upstairs.” Jason acknowledged. 

“Then that’s probably where Dean is headed. I’ll go up and through that door. Try and find him and bring him back here. I’ll need one of you to wait by the door and unlock it when we get back.”

“But how will we know it’s you and not one of the monsters?” Danny questioned.

“Well, in my experience, monsters don’t knock politely to be let in.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Sam went up the winding staircase located towards the back of the library, with Jason trailing behind. The others all grouped together, aside from Paul who sat down on the librarian’s front counter. 

Reaching the door, Sam released the lock, said a quick prayer and got ready to head back out into the creature-infested halls of the school.


	225. Get to Safety

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Five: Get to Safety 

Dean sat on the floor of the girls’ bathroom, trying to ignore the pain and dizziness that he was experiencing. He knew that he’d been close to the library, but when two of the creatures had turned the corner in front of him, obviously having taken a different way upstairs, he’d turned back only to see more of those things coming at him from that direction. The hunter had tried to open the door to the boy’s room, but had found it locked. The next door had the familiar symbol of a skirt-wearing stick figure, but Dean had ignored it and yanked at the handle. By some miracle it had opened easily. Once inside, the teen had closed and locked the door just in time to hear the creatures start to scratch at the wood. He hoped that they couldn’t tear through it.

After a few minutes, the sound had stopped but Dean didn’t trust that they’d really gone away. So he had slumped to the floor to rest. And now he was fighting back the urge to close his eyes and welcome the darkness. Blood loss sucked big time. 

When he felt himself starting to drift off, Dean struggled to his feet. Sleeping wasn’t an option. He had to find a way past those creatures and get back to Sam. His brother was probably sick with worry by that point. Truthfully, Dean was worried too. He had no way of knowing what was going on with the younger hunter. Sam had definitely made it into the library but Dean was concerned that the creatures had too. Or maybe Sam hadn’t stayed put in there and was back in danger. 

He put his ear to the door and listened. No sounds. The monsters had most likely moved on or Dean would hear their chittering and the clicking of their claws on the hard floor. So, weapon once more held at the ready, the hunter unlocked the door. 

He’d just begun to pull it open when the door was shoved into him. Dean stumbled back, but recovered quickly, ready to face his opponent. He stepped as smoothly as his injuries would allow to the side and prepared to chop the critter up into enough pieces that it would take awhile for it to piece itself back together. But then stopped the motion of his arm as he caught sight of the figure in the doorway.

“Sam?”

“Dean!” The boy cried in relief.

“What the hell… you’re supposed to be in the library!”

“I had to come find you.” He explained as he threw his arms around the taller teen. 

Dean couldn’t help the soft groan that escaped his lips as Sam’s hands accidently came into contact with the wounds on his back. The younger Winchester immediately released his brother.

“Oh man! I’m so sorry… are you… how bad is it?”

Dean tried to shrug but the motion made him wince. “Not fatal.” Was about the only positive thing he could come up with. 

Sam stepped fully into the bathroom, letting the door close behind him. “Turn around. I’ll check on it.”

The older boy shook his head. “No time. We need to get back to the others.”

“No, we need to make sure you don’t bleed out. Besides, staying away from all that arguing for a couple more minutes isn’t a bad thing.”

Dean made a face. “That bad?”

“Well, if the creatures don’t kill them, they may just do each other in.”

“Then we should be there to make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”

Sam sighed. “Fine. The library isn’t too far away. But you’re letting me patch you up as soon as we get in there. No ands, ifs, or buts. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” Dean joked.

Sam grinned. “Then let’s move it.”

Dean knew that his brother was worried for him, but they had a job to complete. Keep the teens safe and get them out of the line of fire if possible. Find out how these freakin’ creatures could be killed. Gank the whole lot of them. Go home, have a beer, and rest. Mission complete.

Sam opened the door and peeked out.

“How’d you know I was in here anyways?” Dean questioned.

“I followed your trail of blood.”

“Oh. I guess I need to work on keeping that stuff in my body, huh?”

“Definitely.”

Without another word, the young hunters slipped out of the room. Sam took the rear, and Dean guessed it was to keep any more creatures off of his back. Quickly, but quietly, they made their way to the corner. The older brother peered around. The next hall was as empty as the one they’d just walked down. He motioned for Sam to follow and slipped around the corner.

“Third door. Left.” Sam informed him. 

Dean nodded once to show that he’d heard, and started for the library entrance. But while they were still a door away from safety, five creatures sped around the opposite corner from where the brothers had entered the hall.

“Crap!” Dean exclaimed. “No need for stealth, Sammy! Let’s just pick up the pace!”

He ran to the mentioned door and grabbed the handle. It didn’t turn. 

“The damned door is locked!”

“Knock on it!” Sam called back. “Someone should be standing by to let us in.”

“ _Should be?_ ” Dean pounded on the door. “Dude, let us in now!”

Footsteps approached the other side of the door and then the sound of the lock being jiggled around could be heard. Dean glanced over to see the monsters getting ever closer. They’d be on the hunters in seconds. 

The door finally opened and one of the boys from earlier stood blocking the entrance.

“Sorry ‘bout that. The lock was kinda hard to…”

Dean shoved the teen further into the room and reached behind him to grab Sam’s shirt. With a handful of material, he lunged inside, pulling the smaller boy with him. But before he could turn to close the door once more, pain shot through his back and dizziness brought him to his knees. Dean watched through a grayish haze as Sam spun around and shoved at the door. A creature tried to slip inside the library, but the younger Winchester stabbed it in the face. It shrieked and flung itself backwards, allowing Sam to close and lock the door. There was a thud against the wood, as one of the things presumably jumped into the obstruction. Then they heard scratching and chittering from the other side. But the door held. They were safe for the moment.

Dean fell back into a sitting position. He felt drained and his wounds were starting to really hurt. At that moment all he wanted was to rest. And possibly sleep. But he knew that that was like wishing for all the monsters in the world to suddenly fall down dead from natural causes. It just wasn’t going to happen.

“Take your shirt off.” Sam gently ordered, placing his backpack down and rummaging through it. “I need to see how bad a shape you’re in.”

The hunter tried to follow directions, but while his jacket and flannel were manageable, pulling his tee-shirt over his head was beyond his capabilities. Fortunately, Sam didn’t wait to be asked for help. Dean held in a groan as the material was pulled from where it had stuck to his wounds.

“Oh, damn…” Sam gasped.

“So it’s more than just a scratch?” Dean joked.

“They’re deep. Really deep. You need stitches for sure.”

“Well, I doubt we got any in that first-aid kit in your bag.”

“No.” Sam admitted. “But I’ll do my best with butterfly bandages, medical tape, and gauze. It won’t hold forever, but I need to stop the bleeding _now_.”

“Yeah, that would be good.” Dean agreed. The blood loss was making him tired and woozy. He wasn’t too far from passing out.

The injured young man tried hard not to make a sound as his brother proceeded to patch him up. The teen that had let them into the library had taken one look at Dean’s back, made a gagging sound, and then fled the area. Which was just fine. No need for an audience, and it allowed him a moment alone to talk with Sam.

“Chopping them up won’t kill ‘em.” He revealed. “They can put themselves back together like a freakin’ Lego creation.”

“Maybe shooting them in the head would work?” Sam suggested. 

“Maybe… but the body moved separate from the head. No brain power required.”

“Burn them?”

“They’d likely just heal.”

“Put them through a wood chipper?” Sam laughed.

“Think the school has one?” 

They lapsed into silence as the younger teen worked. Dean gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. As he concentrated on ignoring the pain, it faded into the background. Actually, after a couple minutes, he didn’t feel anything at all. It was really kind of peaceful.

“Dean! Dean, can you hear me?”

Dean opened his eyes to see Sam looking down at him. Down at him? Why was he laying on the floor? How had he gotten there? As he tried to figure it out, Sam provided some answers.

“You lost consciousness. I was just finishing up when you fell over onto the floor. Luckily you landed on your face, because falling backwards would’ve hurt like hell and ruined my patch up job. I turned you over carefully, but you were out cold.”

“Oh.” Was all Dean could think to say. 

“I fixed up your back as well as I could, and if you can sit up, I’ll wrap up your head. The bite mark looks nasty, but it’s not bleeding as badly as the cuts. I already cleaned it out, so hopefully it won’t get infected.”

The younger hunter helped him sit upright and Dean held still as a sterile pad was pressed to the back of his skull and then gauze was wrapped tightly around his head to hold it in place.

“Will you be alright to move?” Sam’s voice held a ton of worry.

“I think so. Not much choice in it. High school’s don’t come equipped with blood transfusion stuff.”

“Uh, maybe this’ll help you feel a little better.”

Dean turned to see a teenage girl standing awkwardly a few feet away. Once she saw that she had his attention, she held out a small bottle of orange juice.

“I know it’s not the same, but I gave blood a couple weeks back and they told me that I should drink OJ afterwards to regain strength or replenish nutrients or something like that.”

Dean smiled. “Well, I think I lost more blood that you donated, but it can’t hurt, right?” She nodded and handed him the bottle. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. I always have snacks and drinks in my bag. You want a candy bar? I think I have some KitKats…”

“That’d be great.”

The girl pulled the small bag off her shoulder and unzipped the front pocket. She pulled out an orange-wrapped candy bar and tossed it to him. Dean caught it in the hand not holding the juice.

“Where is everyone else, Claire?” Sam questioned.

“Paul is sulking behind the front desk, and the rest of us are at one of the tables downstairs.”

“Good. Dean and I need to find out any information you all may have. Preferably without the arguing this time.”

The girl nodded.

“Help me up, Sammy.” Dean shoved the candy into his pocket and motioned for his brother. 

Once Dean was on his feet, the brothers followed Claire to the staircase. The older Winchester leaned slightly on the shorter teen as they made their way down the steps. Dean carefully sat in a chair near the table that three other teens occupied.

Claire looked around. “Where’s Danny?”

The others glanced around at each other, before the tallest of the group spoke up. “He left.”

“What?” Dean, Sam and Claire all exclaimed.

“Why? Where’d he go?” Claire pressed.

“He said he’d be safer out of this building. Tried to get someone else to go with him, but none of us wanted to risk our lives out there.”

“Dammit!” Dean exclaimed. “You guys had _one job_. Stay in place where we put you and _not_ get in trouble. Now we gotta go back out there and make sure your dumbass friend doesn’t get his fool self killed!”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Sam informed him.

“You can’t go alone.” Dean insisted as he got to his feet… and promptly fell to his knees. Dark spots danced before his eyes and he barely felt the hands that grabbed him and got him back into the chair.

“You need rest, Dean. Maybe in a little while you’ll be up to moving, but not right now. I’ll end up having to drag your unconscious body back here and that won’t help anyone.”

Dean had to admit that Sam had a point. He would be nothing but a burden that could get his little brother killed.

“Fine. But you don’t go far. Check the hall, call for him, but don’t let the library leave your sight, got it?”

Sam nodded. “Understood.”

So Dean sat and watched helplessly as his brother took one of their machete’s and slipped back out into the hall that was filled with thus far unkillable monsters.


	226. To the Rescue

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Six: To the Rescue 

The hallway was deserted when Sam slipped out, closing the door securely behind himself. He took a deep breath and started slowly walking. The young hunter (and was he really a hunter by this point? Or still just in training?) kept an eye on his rear to make certain that he wasn’t ambushed, all while making sure the path ahead of himself was clear. Now he was really cursing the fact that his older brother was out of commission. Sam had never been left to do part of a really dangerous hunt by himself like this before and he felt the fear trying to take over. But he knew that if he allowed it to, he’d freeze and get himself killed. He just had to keep telling himself that he’d be fine. Dean had taught him how to handle all sorts of deadly situations and if he followed the instructions of the experienced hunter, this would all work out. Because the only other option was that Sam would die and leave his brother to bleed out surrounded by useless teenagers. And Sam _would not_ let that happen.

He reached the corner and glanced around it. Nothing. How far had the teen gotten? Sam had thought for certain that he’d have found him by now. And most likely injured or dead. But no, there was no sign of anyone nearby. The boy looked back at the library door, remembering how Dean had ordered him not to let it out of his sight. But if he followed that order, he’d be leaving Danny to die without even attempting to help. And Sam couldn’t do that. And he knew that Dean wouldn’t either. 

So he turned the corner and cautiously crept down the hall. He was still being careful and concentrating on stealth when he heard a scream. Sam abandoned being quiet and ran towards the sound. He turned another corner and saw Danny lying on the tile under the trophy case near the door. There was broken glass all around him and a nasty-looking creature on his chest. 

The helpless teen screamed and cried out as the monster tore into him. Sam darted forward, raising his weapon. “Hey! You freaky bastard!” Oh, yeah… he was picking up more than just hunting skills from Dean. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!” Okay, that made zero sense due to the fact that the older teen was bigger than him. But Sam didn’t have time to come up with anything better.

The creature looked up at him and then sprang forward, leaving it’s injured meal behind to try and take out the obvious threat. Sam braced himself and stabbed forward with his machete. The blade ended up in the thing’s chest as it hit the boy and brought them both to the ground. Sam rolled to the side, yanking his weapon from the creature’s body and bringing it back down to start hacking the monster into pieces. It would take quite a while for it to heal from that. 

Sam stopped his work when he heard the skittering of several creatures coming from the turn up ahead. He ran forward and pulled Danny to his feet despite the teen’s groans and cries. They needed to move. Fast. 

Half dragging the bleeding boy, Sam retraced his steps. His only hope was to reach the library once more.

…  
...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural…  
…

Dean fought to stay conscious as he waited anxiously for his little brother to return. He wasn’t really feeling the pain anymore, and he knew from experience that that _wasn’t_ a good thing. But on the other hand, there was nothing he could do to improve his situation. So he focused on remaining alert to protect the others if it was needed. Because even injured he stood a better chance of killing those monsters than the rest of the teens. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed that fact.

“How do you know how to do all that?” One of the girls (Dean’s fuzzy head couldn’t remember her name) asked. “I mean, you were awesome out there.”

Dean looked up at where she was standing over him. “It would’ve been more awesome if they hadn’t tackled me.”

“Well yeah, that was horrible, but still… You seem to know about this stuff. How? You’re our age but you… you just…”

“Trust me, I’m older than you.” Dean countered.

“By what?” A guy interjected. “A year?”

Maybe physically… “What matters is that I have experience. Years of it. This stuff? It’s what I do.”

“So you came here to save us?” The girl questioned.

“I came to investigate. You idiots just happened to be here trying to get yourselves killed.” Dean told her bluntly. He wasn’t in the mood for sugar-coating.

“We’re not idiots!” One of the boys returned. 

“Then why the hell would you be wandering around in a school at night? A school where the bodies of your classmates were recently discovered? You’re either idiots or you all have death wishes.”

“No.” The boy protested. “We were here trying to find proof of who the killer was.”

Dean gave him a sceptical look. “So what? You’re the Nancy Drew fan club?”

“Who’s Nancy Drew?”

The hunter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess it was too much to expect that you’d have actually read any books. Either way, why would you think that _you_ could figure this out?”

“We told the police that we thought Paul had done it.” The girl spoke up. “But they claimed he had an alibi. We wanted to show them that we were right. So we followed him and he came here.”

“Pretty guilty behaviour, huh?” The dude added.

Dean glanced over to where the aforementioned Paul sat on the return counter. The teen looked like he was sulking and wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze.

“And why were _you_ here?” Dean questioned.

“No one’s business but mine.” He muttered.

Well, that _did_ sound guilty. But Dean already knew that no person had committed the murders. Freaky creatures were to blame for that. But that didn’t mean that Paul was innocent.

“What did you do?” Dean pressed.

“Who says I…”

Dean put on the most dangerous expression that his poor condition would allow. “I asked; _what did you do?_ ”

The boy seemed to shrink into himself. “I just… These jerks have picked on me since we were kids. Then last month Tyler shoved me into a locker. They were all laughing. I was in there forever. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted _them_ to stop.”

“How’d you bring the creatures here?”

“A ritual.”

“And now they are killing off your enemies for you.” Dean gave him a severe look.

“I didn’t know!” Paul protested. “It just said that the ritual would summon something to punish aggressors. I didn’t think anyone would die.”

“Then you are a moron. And let me guess, you have no control over these things.”

The teen shook his head. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“You didn’t think.” Dean informed him.

“So it _is_ your fault that Tyler and the others died!” A girl cried out.

“Shut it, Kelly.” Paul spat back. “I wouldn’t have done anything if you…”

“Everyone shut it!” Dean snarled. “You are all so damned petty. You guys just can’t help but to be assholes, and _you_ retaliate with a murderous force that you can’t control. And now people are dead and we will be next if my brother and I can’t find a way to end this.”

Paul reached into his backpack and pulled out a large, old-looking book. “This may help. I used it to summon those things. When people started dying and I couldn’t stop it… I was coming here to put it back so I couldn’t be tied to this.”

“Because the cops would certainly look for something like this.” The hunter scoffed.

“I panicked.” 

“I can tell.” Dean took a deep breath, trying to summon all his remaining strength. “But my question is how you found something like that in the school library.”

“Ms. Cruise had them. She used to let me and some other kids look through them. She was fired when the board found out. They confiscated her stuff and put it into the backroom. I snuck in there to find something to help me.”

“Well, let me see…” Dean broke off as the library door opened. 

He turned his head to see Sam dragging a taller teen through and into the room. The older boy was covered in blood, and the small hunter clutched his dripping blade with a bleeding hand. Dean saw that Sam’s sleeve was torn and red was leaking through the fabric. But other than that, his brother seemed to be alright.

Sam dropped his burden to the ground and stabbed at something behind the door while simultaneously pushing against it. Dean stood and was going to go help, but it was all over a moment later. Sam slumped to the ground and leaned against the now closed door. 

Dean struggled over to him. He looked down to see Danny lying unmoving on the ground. He was either dead already or headed that way. With his chest torn up that badly, it was unlikely that the boy would live. But Dean had to try and help

“You okay, Sammy?”

“I’ll be fine. My arm got caught by their claws, but it’s not bad. Check on him.”

Dean dropped to his knees, breathing heavily from the exertion, and grabbed Sam’s bag. He removed the first-aid kit and tried to located where the worst of the teen’s wounds were. 

After a couple minutes of trying to stop the bleeding, with Sam’s help, Dean looked up and shook his head. Danny had passed on.

Tears came to Sam’s eyes. “I tried… I just got there too late.”

“You did your best.” Dean informed him, placing a comforting hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “But sometimes… sometimes there’s nothing we can do.”

“Yeah…” Sam was clearly upset.

“This is your fault!” One of the teens stood and advanced towards Paul. “ _You_ should be the one lying there dead!

“We’ll all be dead if you don’t calm the hell down!” Dean shouted. “Danny reacted instead of using his head. If you want to meet the same fate, keep up your useless arguing. Because if you don’t pull your heads out of your asses and start actually thinking, you’ll make a dumb move too.”

“Maybe we can stay here until morning?” A girl suggested.

The hunter shook his head. “There’s no reason to believe that they’d leave in the morning. One of the times of death was put in the middle of the day. If we are all still here in the morning and other people show up… there’ll be a massacre.”

“What do we do?” Sam asked as Dean started tending to his brother’s injured arm.

“Paul has the book that summoned these things. We look through it and hope there’s info on how to get rid of the freaks.”

Sam nodded. “Good idea.” To his credit, the younger boy didn’t ask how Paul had gotten the book. He seemed to realize that time was not on their side and that they couldn’t waste another moment.

With his arm bandaged, Sam rose to his feet and helped Dean up as well. Dean stumbled back to the chair by the table and motioned to Paul. 

“Let’s see that book.”

The teen walked over and dropped the old book on the table. Then Paul opened the cover and flipped to a spot about three-quarters in.

“This is it.”

Dean looked down to see a crude drawing of the creatures. “And you didn’t think these things would come back to bite you in the ass?”

Paul shrugged helplessly.

The hunter turned his attention to the pages. He felt Sam’s presence at his shoulder as the younger Winchester scanned the text as well. Hopefully one of them would figure this out soon. Before anyone else died.


	227. A Dangerous Walk

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Seven: A Dangerous Walk 

Phil sat quietly, watching the mysterious teenagers look through a very old book. A book that had somehow brought a bunch of deadly creatures into their lives… if he were to believe this crazy story. But what other options did he have. The creatures definitely existed, so he either had to believe that these things had always been around and just now decided to kill his friends, or he could buy the story he was being sold. And Phil was pretty certain that there hadn’t been any of these monsters lurking around this small town all his life. So, summoned by a weird book it was…

For the millionth time that night, Phil regretted dating Claire. Sure she was pretty, and she was a cheerleader, but she was also a bit mean. Something he somehow had never realized until last week when they went out for the first time. He’d approached her to say that he was sorry that her friend had died and to see if there was anything that he could do to help. The pastor at his church was always encouraging him to reach out to people in need. But Phil had been shocked when she’d asked him out. Then he’d figured _why not?_... but that question was quickly answered as he saw how she treated some of the other kids. It wasn’t like she was completely heartless or anything, but she got a kick out of putting others down. And some of her friends were even worse. Phil had thought about breaking it off with her, but was a bit scared that her friends would retaliate, so he stuck around figuring that she’d call the whole thing off soon enough. His last girlfriend (who had also been his first) had broken up with him after only three weeks, claiming he wasn’t exciting enough. So, he didn’t like getting into trouble; he’d never thought that that was a bad thing. But she’d been a bit of a troublemaker (something he also hadn’t noticed until they were dating… this was starting to be a pattern) and was upset that he wouldn’t cut class to see her, and that he wouldn’t drink and smoke at the school after hours. With that as his only dating experience, he figured that his relationship with Claire wouldn’t last long either. And now it might end with their deaths…

And maybe he deserved it too. Sure he’d never insulted or hurt anyone himself, but he sure hadn’t done anything to stop the others. He definitely needed to grow a backbone. 

“Hey, this looks like something.” The older teenager (Dean, his name was Dean) spoke, breaking the uneasy silence.

The smaller boy next to him looked at what was being pointed at. He moved his lips as he read to himself. Then he placed a hand on his brother’s arm. 

“Yes! That has to be it!”

Dean made a face. “But how are we going to…”

“Maybe if we check in the cafeteria kitchen and the chem lab we’ll find what we need.”

Dean ran a weary hand down his face. “Maybe… but even if the school has everything we need, that means we gotta go back out there.”

His brother, Sam, sighed. “Well, you’re gonna stay…”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “I’m not letting you back out there alone.”

Phil admired their bravery, but he wasn’t sure that Dean would survive a trip back out, and Sam was the youngest one there and had an injured arm. The teenager was getting more convinced than ever that they were all going to die. And these two, who had risked their lives to come to save them, didn’t deserve that. 

“I can help” He volunteered. “I know where everything is in here and…”

“It’s too dangerous.” Dean cut in.

“Yeah, but isn’t it dangerous to stay here too long? I mean, can’t those things get in here?”

“Maybe.” Sam admitted. “They haven’t opened doors yet, but if they figure it out or if they can break down the doors…”

Phil bit his lip. “Then shouldn’t we take a chance.”

He saw the brothers exchange a look. They seemed to be communicating without words. Heck, at this point Phil would believe it if they told him that they were psychic. 

Finally, Dean let out a sigh. “Okay. We’ll need Paul to come as well. He needs to complete part of the ritual since he’s the one that summoned the things.” 

“I have to go back out there!” Paul’s eyes looked like they’d pop out of his head.

Phil felt bad for him. Sure, summoning evil critters wasn’t the best way to handle bullying, but the kid had been put through the ringer since they were all in grammar school. And now he’d have to live with the knowledge that his actions had caused the deaths of four of his classmates. Well, if any of them lived through this…

“Ha!” Jason exclaimed. “Now you get yours, asshole!”

Dean turned to the boy. “You best hope he doesn’t die. If he does before we send these things back, they’re here to stay. And _you_ are next on their menu.”

“Wait!” Claire exclaimed. “If you leave, what do we do if those things get in here?”

Huh. She wasn’t even the least bit concerned that Phil was going back out there. 

Sam glanced at Dean and then looked back to face the others. “We can’t take you with us. There’s no way the whole group could travel down the hall without attracting the creatures. And Dean and I already almost got killed trying to get you all in here. We’d never be able to go together and have us protect everyone.”

“When we leave, push a bookshelf in front of both doors to block the entrances.” Dean commanded.

“How will you get back in?” Kelly wanted to know.

Dean shrugged. “Either we’ll have this settled before we come back and can wait for you to remove the barricades… or we’ll be too dead to re-enter. But we’re not coming back without getting rid of these nasty-ass things.”

Phil wondered briefly what he was getting into when he had volunteered to go. But they needed a guide and maybe someone to help Dean if his condition got worse. And Phil and his classmates were depending on the brothers to save them, so the least he could do was try to assist them.

Dean made his way over to the door. “I’ll take point. Sammy’s got the rear. Phil, Paul… stay in-between us and don’t get yourselves killed.”

Phil nodded as Paul slowly and fearfully dragged his feet over to them. Dean motioned for everyone to get behind him and then slowly opened the door. Watching how the slightly older teen moved and used hand signals, Phil could’ve sworn that Dean was military. But his age made that impossible. Still, he was some sort of professional and his little brother was obviously learning from him. And learning well. For about the millionth time since they had appeared that night, yelling out orders, fighting creatures, and getting everyone to safety, Phil wondered who they were and where they’d come from. Maybe he’d get a chance to ask if they lived to see tomorrow.

Once out in the hall, it was all he could do not to hold his breath. The fear was overwhelming. But passing out from lack of oxygen wouldn’t help anyone. Phil could hear the others back in the library moving the bookshelves around. And even though their actions over the years had helped to create this situation, he truly hoped that they’d be okay. 

“So where’s this cafeteria?” Dean hissed in a low voice.

Phil understood the need for quiet. “Uh, go to the end of the hall. Turn the corner and in the next hall you’ll see a turn halfway down on the left. That leads to the caf and the gym. The caf is the door on the right.”

Dean nodded once but otherwise didn’t answer. 

Their group moved quickly and silently towards their destination. Dean hadn’t put his torn and bloodied tee back on, but had struggled back into his flannel. Phil figured that a button up was easier to manage with his injuries. And speaking of those injuries, the older teen’s flannel was soaked with blood. Phil couldn’t tell if it was all from when he’d gotten attacked or if some of it was new. Judging by the way the bandages that he could see through the claw marks in the shirt were red, it was likely that there was some fresh blood on Dean’s clothes. But nothing more could be done for the remarkably brave teen until they got out of the school and he could get some actual medical attention.

The door to the cafeteria was in view when Phil hear scratching coming from behind. 

“Dean…” He started nervously.

“I hear ‘em.” Dean responded. “Sammy, watch your six.”

“Yep.” Was the only reply he got.

Dean went to open the door, only to find it locked. Which they should’ve expected. They’d all taken refuge in the library because that was one of just a few rooms that didn’t lock. Every other door was locked down when the staff left at night. 

“Crap.” Dean muttered. He knelt down and took something from his back pocket. Phil was trying to figure out what he was doing when he realized that the guy was picking the lock. With an actual lock pick. More mystery around these kids. He jiggled the pick around in the lock for a moment before the door clicked open. “Yahtzee!” Dean exclaimed in triumph.

Just then, Paul pushed past Phil and bumped right into Dean in a rush to get to safety. Dean hissed in pain and shot a withering look at the other boy.

The door swung open and Dean waved everyone inside as he stood guard. Phil hurried in after Paul and turned to see four creatures running right at them. Sam was facing them with his weapon held up and Dean took a step towards his brother. 

And that was the last view he had of them as Paul slammed the door shut and locked it.

…  
...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural…  
…

“What the…” Dean turned his head as he heard the door slam behind him followed by the sound of the lock clicking into place. And yep… they were now shut out in the hall with the deadly monsters. “Awesome.” He groaned.

Turning his attention back to the things running at them, the hunter stepped right next to Sam and lunged forward with his machete. He skewered one of the creatures right in its throat and the yanked the blade up, slicing through part of its face. The blade wouldn’t go all the way through the monster’s skull, so he jerked the weapon out and then brought it back to cut through its neck. When the head hit the floor, Dean kicked it away from the body so it would take longer for the thing to piece itself back together. Then he turned to the next ones.

One slashed at his chest, but Dean jumped back and away. He cried out as his injured back hit the wall. But the hunter had avoided getting hurt any further. He saw Sam duck as one of the thing’s tried to take a swipe at his head. The younger Winchester slashed at the creature from his new vantage point. Dean reluctantly turned his attention away from his brother to concentrate on the matter at hand.

He sliced up the creature that was closest to him and dodged the claws of the other. When the thing took another swipe at him, Dean chopped its arm off. He then hacked it into even more pieces. 

Dean took a deep breath as the world started to gray out on him. Damned blood loss. He fought past the dizziness and tried to find the next monster to gank. But that was when he realized that all of the critters were now on the ground.

“Dean, you okay?” Sam sounded worried and Dean knew that he must look pretty bad.

“Yeah…”

Then he heard the skittering of more of the things coming from the hall past the corner.

Sam must’ve heard it too, because his eyes widened and he went to get back into fighting position. But Dean was wondering how they’d survive wave after wave of these things. The creatures that they’d dispatched were already healing. This was really not good…

But then the door unlocked and swung open to reveal Phil urgently waving them in. About damned time…

“What the hell?” Dean growled at the teen.

“I’m so sorry! I tried to get him to let you in, but he wouldn’t!” The boy hastily explained.

Dean cast a look over to Paul, who was sitting on the floor holding his bleeding nose.

“Dude! Did you punch him in the face?”

Phil looked embarrassed. “I didn’t want to! But he was guarding the door and I had to let you guys in before you died, and I couldn’t think of any other way to get him to move, so I had to…”

“Hey!” Dean interrupted. “You did good.” Then he turned to Paul. “And _you_ … I felt bad for you and your sob story before, but now… you’re an asshole just like the douche-bags that gave you hell.”

“Dean…” Sam started.

“Yeah, he was scared. I know. But the bastard tried to leave us out there to protect his own worthless ass. You could’ve died, Sammy.”

“Well, I didn’t. And yeah, he’s a moron, but he’s a moron we’ll need.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Sam was right. But it didn’t make Dean like Paul any more. The kid not only was responsible for bringing this crap down on them all, but he was a freakin’ coward as well. And Dean didn’t want the dude to put Sam in danger again. He’d have to keep an eye on the teenager. 

But first, he needed a break. Dean flopped down to the floor and leaned against the wall. He saw Sam start to go into the kitchen to get the supplies they needed, but he couldn’t find the energy to go after him. Maybe if he closed his eyes for just a minute, he’d feel better. 

A moment later he was out.


	228. Supply Run

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Eight: Supply Run 

Sam was thankful that the ingredients they needed were all common stuff that didn’t require a trip to an occult shop. Just some kitchen ingredients and normal chemicals. Of course the summoning ritual was similar, which was why Paul had been able to do it in the first place, so maybe it _would_ have been better for this _not_ to have been a ‘spells for dummies’ kind of thing.

Either way, the young hunter was going through the kitchen and looking for everything he needed to toss into the empty bookbag he’d worn here. All his stuff was left behind in the library to make room for the ingredients they’d need. Well, all except the first aid kit, the book, and some salt (needed for the ritual). 

“I don’t see any spices or seasonings.” Sam commented, looking back at the list and frowning.

“Not surprised, the food here is super bland.” Phil shrugged. “But they have a ton of that stuff in home ec class. And it’s only a couple rooms away from the chem lab.”

Sam nodded his thanks. Except for the vinegar and the milk (and what kind of supernatural ritual used milk anyways?) it looked like the stop here was a bust. He was a bit annoyed with Paul for not bringing this up. He’d done a similar ritual and should’ve pointed out the lack of resources in the cafeteria kitchen.

“Well, I guess we can head out now. As long as those things have moved away from the door.” Sam headed out into the seating area of the cafeteria while he was talking. “Where’s the closest staircase. I want to get up to the…” His voice trailed off as he saw his older brother slumped over near the door. 

Dean was no longer conscious and had left a small trail of blood on the wall behind him where he’d obviously slid down. 

“Dean!” Sam raced over and dropped to his knees next to his brother. He carefully maneuvered the taller teen to lie down with his head in Sam’s lap. Then he checked Dean’s pulse. A bit weak but still there. The younger hunter ran his hand gently down his brother’s face, then stroked his hair. “Dean, come on, man. Please wake up.”

Dean made a low, pained noise, but complied. He blinked sluggishly. “S’mmy?” Dean slurred.

“Yeah, Dean. It’s me.”

“I can see that, dude. Injured.. not blind.” He mumbled.

Sam laughed, more in relief than due to his brother’s comment. “We got some stuff, but we gotta go now. You okay to move?” 

“Peachy.” With Sam and Phil’s help, Dean struggled to his feet. He swayed for a second but then stabilized. 

Sam hoped that he’d be okay. He was starting to regret letting the older Winchester come. And he was also wishing that they hadn’t had to bring Paul with them. The guy was just standing there not offering any help at all. He hadn’t even done anything earlier when Dean had collapsed. Sam shot him a look to let the teen know that the young hunter was not pleased.

“We need to go upstairs now.” Sam stated.

Dean nodded and tried to go to the door. He stumbled slightly and Phil rushed over to support him. Dean tried to shrug the help off but, when he almost went down again, he looped his arm over the other teen’s shoulder with a reluctant expression.

After listening to make certain there were no creature-ish sounds coming from the hall, Dean opened the door and they set off again.

With his brother in the lead and Sam bringing up the rear, they made it into the stairwell with no problems. Sam watched his brother taking the stairs slowly and knew that he was in a lot of pain, but the older Winchester was remarkably resilient. He seemed to draw strength from some hidden reserves during hunts like this. But Sam couldn’t help but worry what state he’d be in when this was all over. His own arm was throbbing from the cuts he’d gotten and it was nowhere near as bad as Dean’s injuries. Without adrenaline to fuel him, Sam knew that his brother would collapse. They couldn’t worry about that until later, though. Later when everyone was safe.

At the door at the top of the stairs they listened briefly to be certain that it was safe. When their group emerged into the upstairs hall, they quickened their pace as much as they could without making too much noise. The sooner they got the stuff they needed, the more chance they had of getting everyone through this alive.

“That’s the home ec room.” Phil quietly pointed out.

At the door, Dean pulled away from the other teenager and tried the knob. No one was surprised when it didn't turn. Sam took his eyes off of his brother to keep watch while Dean was picking the lock.

“We're in.” The older hunter informed everyone. 

“Thank God.” Phil sighed.

Once they were inside the classroom and the door was securely locked behind them, Dean practically collapsed into one of the chairs. Paul sat down across the room from the hunter and Phil led Sam over to the cabinets that held the spices and seasonings. The youngest in the group starting going through the stuff. Unlike the kitchen, this place was completely packed with ingredients. Sam started tossing a bunch of things into his pack.

“So, is this going to kill the creatures?” Phil inquired.

“No,” Sam shook his head. “This will just forcibly return them to where they came from.”

“Where they came from?”

“Yeah. According to what I read, they were created by some vengeful guy many years ago. They proved to be indestructible, but also uncontrollable. So the guy ended up banishing them to hibernation deep in the ground. Unfortunately, the spell to conjure them was recorded and dumbass over there found and used it.”

Sam heard Dean snicker at his colorful language. The younger brother was constantly getting in trouble with his parents for using words that Dean had taught him. Of course, Dean then got scolded too…

“Hey,” Paul protested. “I’m not…”

“ _Yeah_ , you are.” Dean shot back.

Paul cast him a disgruntled look, but wisely remained silent. 

“So, once this is done, they won’t be able to just come back, right?”

“Correct.” Sam answered. “They can only be called with that ritual, and Dean and I are taking this book when we go so that it can’t be used again.”

The younger hunter noticed that Paul’s frown deepened upon that statement. He had probably hoped to get possession of the book when everything was said and done. But that was not happening.

After putting the final item into his pack, Sam turned to Dean. “We’re all set here. Do you need rebandaging before we head out?”

The older teen shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine until this is finished.”

Sam cast him a skeptical look “Are you sure? Because it would be…”

He was cut off mid sentence by a loud thud from the door. Then another. Then three came in quick succession. There were multiple creatures out there and they all wanted in. 

“Well, we’re stuck in here until those things go away, so I may as well take a look at your back.” Sam mentioned.

Dean seemed to be contemplating it, when a particularly loud slam into the door resulted in an equally loud crack. Sam jumped and went for his machete that he’d left on one of the tables. But before he could get to it, the door burst open in a spray of splinters.

…  
..supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural…  
…

Dean rose to his feet, his hand clutching his weapon, and rushed at the creatures flooding into the room. There were five of them and apparently they’d decided to work together to get in. Which made him think back to the kids that they’d left behind in the library and hope that they were okay. Sure they’d barricaded the doors (doors that seemed a lot heavier than the craptastic wood used for the classrooms) but these critters seemed to be getting desperate. Dean and Sam needed to finish this as soon as possible. 

“Sam! Get out of here! Take the kids and get the hell out of this room. I’ll hold ‘em off so you guys can do the damned ritual!”

Sam shot him a look of horror. “No way, Dean! You’ll be killed!”

Dean knew that his brother was vividly remembering what had happened when they’d split up earlier, but he also knew that this was the best option. “We’ll all be killed if we stay here! The creatures won’t stop coming and I can’t fight them while I’m worrying about civilians.”

“Then _I_ fight them and _you_ get the others out of here.” Sam countered.

“Uh, uh... “ Dean shook his head as he slashed at one of the monsters. “You have a better chance of getting past these things than me.” It was true… Sam wasn’t in the middle of a group of four creatures like Dean was. But the main reason for the order was to keep Sam safe. And both brothers knew it.

“Fine.” Sam reluctantly agreed. “But meet up with us as soon as you can.”

“Definitely.” Dean took the legs off one of the things and tried to ignore the fact that his back was screaming at him and he was feeling weaker as every minute passed.

Sam herded the teens out of the room and only one monster followed them. The others were either on the floor missing some pieces or trying to find an angle to attack Dean. 

One creature launched itself off a table and right at Dean’s face. The hunter dropped at the last instant and it went over his head. It screeched in frustration and scrambled to its feet… only to be beheaded by a machete. The last standing monster dove in low and Dean responded by kicking it in the face. It wailed and tried again. Dean sidestepped it and impaled the creature in the back when it hit the ground. The hunter pulled his weapon free and chopped the thing’s head off.

Dean was walking to the door to leave the home ec room when the world started to spin. He braced himself against the doorway and took a deep breath. Then another. The dizziness was just starting to fade when he felt something grasp his ankle.

Dean didn’t even have time to cry out as he lost his footing and was pulled to the ground.


	229. All Over

Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-Nine: All Over

He shouldn’t have left Dean. He shouldn’t have left Dean. _He shouldn’t have left Dean!_

That was the only thought running through Sam’s head as he dispatched the creature that had followed him out into the hall and ran to catch up with Paul and Phil. The teens were waiting by the door to the chem lab and looking anxious. Sam briefly considered turning back to go help Dean, but knew that he’d be dooming the two teens to death if he did so. And if Paul died and couldn’t finish the ritual, many more deaths would follow. And Dean would never forgive Sam for that. Well, Dean probably would eventually, but Sam didn’t want to let his brother down. And he knew that even injured, Dean could defend himself better than the civilians. So as much as Sam wanted to help Dean, he knew that this was the best way to save lives.

Getting to the door, Sam pulled out his own lockpick. Dean had been teaching him how to use one (and boy was their dad pissed when Sam accidentally stripped the inside of the lock on their front door to the point where the key would no longer work) but he still wasn’t as good as his big brother. He’d have to try his best, though, or more creatures would show up before they got into the room.

“C’mon! Open the door!” Paul was practically vibrating with nervousness.

“I’m doing my best. Shut up and let me concentrate.”

Paul could still be heard muttering “C’mon, c’mon’ c’mon…” over and over but at least he was now quiet enough to ignore.

After a moment, the lock clicked. Sam was certain it would have taken him much longer if the school hadn’t used subpar materials. Either way, the teens would now be safe.

“Get in there and start unpacking the stuff.” Sam practically threw his pack at Phil. “Gather up the rest of what we need and set up.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“Back for my brother.”

Sam ignored Paul’s protest of ‘he's probably already dead’ and slammed the door shut as soon as they were inside. The hall was still clear, so the boy ran all the way back to the home ec room. He burst in to find Dean lying on the floor unconscious while a mangled creature was gnawing on his leg. Luckily, the head with a partial torso and one arm was the only moving monster currently in the room. Dean had done a great job of killing the things before he’d passed out. Sam hurried forward to remove the creature from his brother. The thing looked up at him and hissed just as the small hunter took its head off.

Sam dropped down to examine the damage. Dean’s leg was a mess and there was a long gash down the side of his head where he must’ve hit it against the doorway when he’d fallen. The boy took his flannel off and tied it tightly around the gaping wound. He was concerned when his big brother still didn’t stir. The blood loss must’ve reached severe levels by that point. 

The job was hopefully near complete and then Dean could get help, but until then, Sam couldn’t just leave him. If any other creatures got into the room while Sam and the others were doing the ritual, Dean would be dead for sure. But the older teen was too big for Sam to carry.

Sam quickly went to work, tying together cooking smocks and the wooden sticks he’d ‘borrowed’ from the broom and mop he’d found in the closet. He then shifted Dean onto the contraption and secured his brother so he wouldn’t tumble off. Finally, Sam looped the ‘straps’ he’d fashioned over his shoulders and started for the door. The makeshift stretcher-thing was a bit noisy, so he had to stop every few steps to listen for the sounds of those things. If they were to attack unnoticed now, Dean would be dead in seconds and Sam would most likely not fair much better. 

As he made his way back towards to chem lab, Sam silently cursed his older brother’s need to put his life on the line constantly to keep everyone else safe. Ever since they were little, Dean would literally and figuratively jump in the line of fire to protect family, friends, and total strangers. He used to think that it was just because Dean had such a big heart that he needed to help save everyone. And yeah, that was partially true. But after taking the tour of his brothers head a couple years back, Sam had discovered that Dean also believed that everyone else deserved to live more than he himself did. Which wasn’t true, but Sam had no clue how to convince him of that fact. He had tried to show him. Tried to hint to him. He’d tried everything short of flat out telling him (because that method was more that likely just going to be shot down, but Sam was considering going that course anyways). If Dean survived this (and he would because Sam would make certain of it), Sam would have to try again to make Dean believe that his life was worth just as much as everyone else’s. Hell, to Sam, it was the most precious life ever.

At the door to the lab, Sam heard the door to the stairwell burst open. He pounded on the door.

“Hey! Let us in!”

It swung open. Sam pushed past Phil and ran in, trying not to jostle Dean too badly, but wanting to be in safety as soon as possible. He heard the door close and lock. He wondered briefly if the lock was even still functional after he had picked it.

“Is he still alive?”

“Yeah. But he needs help soon.” Sam dropped the straps from his shoulders. “So we need to finish this _now_.” 

“Well, I got everything set up following the directions.” Phil informed him.

Sam let out a sigh of relief. “Good.” 

He looked everything over. The ingredients were lined up and bunsen burners were lit with some stuff already heating up. Sam reluctantly left his brother’s side and walked over to the set up. He climbed up onto the stool and examined the opened book. Yep, everything looked to be in order. 

The hunter took a pinch of basil and sprinkled it over the heating mixture. Then he started the chant. As he read off the words, Sam kept adding the ingredients. Strange colored smoke drifted upwards and carried an odd smell throughout the room. Once everything was added, Sam dipped his pointer and middle fingers into the heated mixture and started to draw a somewhat elaborate symbol around the bunsen burner. As soon as it was completed, small blue and green flames leapt up from the drawing. There was just one thing left to do

“Okay, Paul, you’re up.”

“What?”

“We need your blood. Just cut yourself and let a couple drops fall into the container. It’s the same as the last step you did to start this whole thing.”

“And it’ll get rid of the things?” 

“Yes.”

“I can’t do it.” Paul stepped back

“What?!”

“No way. If I do, the guys… they’ll just go back to making my life hell again.”

“So letting people die is better?” Sam asked.

“I just want it to be over. For them to stop…”

“Look, man, I know that it’s bad, but…”

No!” Paul screamed at him. “You don’t know. It’s terrible. Everyday since we were little kids, man… they’ve been assholes! Stealing my lunches, my books, my homework. Teasing me, saying crap, beating me… You and your brother come here all looking down on me for this, but you have no clue what it’s like.”

Sam made a face. “Everyone has crap to deal with, Paul. I skipped a year in school and was teased for being a geek. Dean skipped two years and was called ‘freak’ by most of his classmates. And he spent most of his free time saving people like you who never even thanked him as he risked his life and almost died. So yeah, we know what it’s like to live through hell. But the key is to not turn on others. Try to make friends with people like yourself. Tell someone when people are being jerks. Find something that gives your life meaning. But what you did was wrong. And it needs to stop.”

“Uh, hey…” Phil cut in. “I know my soon to be ex-girlfriend was mean to you, but if you need a safe place to hang out, the church I go to has a pretty cool youth group that meets informally after school everyday. The guys there are pretty cool.”

Paul shook his head. “I’m atheist.”

Phil shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We only do church-type discussions on Sundays and at study time Wednesday evenings. So unless playing pool, foosball, cards, video games, and watching movies is against your non-religion, I think you’re safe.”

“But no one will be safe if you don’t clean up your mess.” Sam reminded him.

Phil squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed his hands up and down his face. After a moment he let out a rather loud sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Great.” Sam didn’t mention the fact that if he’d refused, the young hunter would’ve gotten the blood one way or another.

Just as Paul positioned himself near the table, scratching started up at the door. Sam looked at the flimsy wooden barrier and over to his severely wounded brother. 

“Hurry…”

Paul took out a small pocket knife and cut one of his fingers. He held it over the mixture and squeezed some blood into it. Then he jumped back and covered his face, obviously knowing what was about to happen. The glass jar containing the stuff exploded in a green ball of fire. It lit up brightly and then imploded in on itself.

Sam was just about to ask if that was it when the symbol that had been glowing went out and a terrible screeching was heard from the hallway. Part of the hunter wanted to see what was happening, but he knew that he needed to stay put and protect the others in the room. Just in case.

When the horrible sounds died out and nothing else happened, Sam finally approached the door cautiously. He opened it a crack and peered out. There were burn marks on the tiles of the hallway, but nothing else. The monsters were gone. Summoned back to wherever they stayed when they weren’t let loose upon unsuspecting victims. 

Sam rushed back to Dean. He was about to put the makeshift straps back on when Phil approached.

“I’ll take that if you need a break.”

“Nah, I got it.” Dean was his responsibility.

“But your arm was hurt earlier…”

Sam looked down at the bandage. “It’s not too bad. Besides, the straps were made for my height, so I’m the only one who can do it.”

The group made their way back down to the library, with the older boys picking Dean up to carry him down the stairs since dragging him down them would’ve cause more damage. The large double doors were covered with deep claw marks and had cracks running through them. Sam pounded on the wood.

“Hey! We’re back! It’s all over. Open up.”

After a brief pause, there came the sound of the furniture that had blocked the inside of the doors being moved. Then they were opened. The other teens peeked out at them. 

“The creatures are gone.” Sam announced. He pushed passed them as he entered the room to toss all of his gear back into his pack. He made certain that he had all of his and Dean’s stuff and then turned to leave. “We’re going. My brother needs a doctor. Don’t mention us to anyone. And I’d clean up some of this mess and get out of here before anyone shows up in the morning if I were you.” He was about to go when something occurred to him. “Oh, and if there’s any sort of payback between any of you for all of this, Dean and I will return. And you _don’t_ want that.”

With that, Sam left the school. He was exhausted, his arm was throbbing, and he was worried about Dean. 

Upon reaching the Impala, Sam carefully lifted Dean into the backseat. He tossed their gear into the trunk and got into the driver’s seat. And yeah, he was still a month away from being of age to get a permit and a year away from a licence, but he’d been taught how to drive for just this sort of emergency. 

Sam glanced at his watch. Still six hours left to go until they were out of ‘radio silence’. Cas was with his parents working on a case and they’d feared that being called on the cell would blow their cover. But Sam couldn’t wait that long for help. He knew that he was only just over the border into Colorado and Dean’s doctor was in Trenton, Nebraska. It was a bit of a drive from their home (well, it would be if they didn’t just have Cas take them there most times) but Dr. Bryant knew about the supernatural and had covered for Dean’s injuries since he’d been a little kid. And she was used to being disturbed at all times of the night. 

So Sam took the map out of the glove box and, after tracing out his route and sighing with relief when he realized that the trip would only take just over two hours, the boy started up the car and took off to get his brother some much needed help.


	230. Medical Emergency

Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty: Medical Emergency 

Dr. Brianna Bryant groaned when she heard the pounding at her door and a glance at the clock informed her that it was only three-sixteen in the morning. She was tempted to pull the covers over her head and pretend that no one was home, but the knowledge that someone was out there and needed her help was enough to get her up and moving. Besides, it was unlikely that the person would stop the racket and let her get back to sleep anyways.

“Keep it down, I’m coming.” She called as she approached the door. She undid the lock and both deadbolts, and swung it open.

She’d expected to see one of the many hunters that dropped by (a bit too often) for a patch up job or for her to write out a prescription. What she wasn’t expecting was a young boy to be standing at her doorstep bouncing anxiously from foot to foot. It took her a moment to recognize him

“Sam?” Brianna looked out and all around her driveway. The Winchester family car was there, but no John, Mary, Cas, or Dean. Hell, Bobby wasn’t even here dropping the kid off. “What are you doing here?” Then a bandage caught her attention. “What happened to your arm?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Sam shook his head. “Dean’s in the backseat. He’s lost way too much blood and he needs to be stitched up right away.”

Without another word, the woman rushed back inside and opened the door to her left. It led into a small clinic that she used for these sorts of emergencies. Brianna opened the garage door in her clinic and then pushed a gurney out to where Sam was waiting by the open back door to the Impala. 

When she looked inside, the doctor had to suppress a gasp. Dean was pale, his skin was soaked with sweat, and there was blood everywhere. She started to wonder if Sam had gotten the teenager to her a bit too late.

Very gently, Brianna transferred Dean to the gurney and brought him inside. “Get set up.” She ordered the younger brother, knowing that Sam would know some of what she’d need. 

Once he was on her table and she was in her surgical outfit and gloves, the doctor began to check the hunter over. He was extremely pale and was burning up. A quick check showed that his blood pressure was through the roof. Not good. She cut his shirt away and saw the bandages wrapped around his middle. She noticed the wound on his forehead, but it didn’t look too severe, so she left it for the moment and removed the makeshift bandage from his leg. And that was when she saw the worst problem. At least she hoped that it would be the worst, because if Dean had further issues, he’d never make it off her table alive. His lower left leg was ripped open and the flesh around the wound was already turning gangrenous. It was more than likely a combination of the lack of blood flow and any infection left behind by whatever had done this to him.

“Sam! Does Dean have any other deep wounds?”

“Uh, yeah. Claw marks on his back. Why?”

“There’s gangrene. I need to deal with any infected areas right away before it spreads.” As she spoke, Brianna was grabbing everything she’d need to get rid of the damaged flesh and cleanse the area. She gently turned him on his side to take a peek at the wounds under the bandages on his back. They were deep and oozing blood, but there was no sign of infection or discoloration. 

She had Sam set up the IV with fluids, blood, and strong anti-biotics as she started the procedure. Luckily, while wet gangrene could set in quickly and spread fast, it appeared that Dean’s wound had only been infected for a short amount of time. 

When she was certain that the gaping wound was clean, she examined the full extent of the damage. 

“Damn it.”

“What?” Sam asked anxiously.

“He has a deep muscle laceration. It needs to be sutured. And then I can close this up.” She didn’t want to leave the wound open any longer than necessary since, even with the IV, Dean couldn’t afford to keep losing fluids. But if the hunter ever wanted to walk again…

“He’ll be okay, right?”

“I don’t know, Sam!” She snapped. “Your brother is bleeding out on my table while his body fights an infection and now I have to repair his muscle. And depending on how much scar tissue this leaves behind, he might never walk without a limp again. _If_ he survives! And I haven’t even touched his other injuries. _And_ there’s always the fact that severe blood loss can lead to organ failure or brain damage. And this is all because you damned hunters consistently bite off more that you can chew! So just what the hell were you two _kids_ doing on an obviously deadly hunt _alone_?!”

She hadn’t meant to yell at the boy. She really hadn’t. But years ago, a demon had gutted her son right in front of her and then she’d been dumb enough to track it down, without knowing what it was, to try and get revenge. She’d have been dead if not for Bobby Singer. And so after that she helped hunters when they needed it because, maybe with them out there, some other mother wouldn’t have to lose their child to the evil things that were out there. But seeing Dean always bothered her. Because yeah, he was a hunter and helped people, but he was also a child and should be being protected. 

Sam sniffled, looking stricken. She knew just how close the brothers were and that he was now frightened for Dean even more. “It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous! The journal said it was just one creature. That’s what all Da… uh, the hunter’s research pointed to and he never went back to update it afterwards. Hell, now I even doubt if he actually worked the case himself, because the info was completely wrong and the dates for this and the next hunt don’t add up!”

“Of course he didn’t work the hunt. You two were on it, not this mystery hunter, right?”

Sam looked startled. “Oh, uh yeah. Sure. Right.” Okay, he was hiding something. “But anyways, we were all set for this hunt and it would’ve been a cakewalk compared to most if the notes had been right. But once we got there it all went to hell and everyone else is on a radio-silence case and we didn’t want to get them killed by calling and…”

“Okay, I get. You weren’t looking for trouble. It just always seems to find you.”

“Yeah.” Sam agreed quietly. There was silence for quite a while after that. Then he spoke again in a small voice. “Do you honestly think that he might not make it?”

Brianna sighed as she finished closing up the teen hunter’s leg. “He’s a fighter. He’s been through worse, right?”

“Yeah.” Sam agreed.

“Just keep that in mind.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“No,” She agreed. “It’s not.”

She carefully turned Dean so that she could work on his back. As she was stitching up one of the deeper gashes, something occurred to her.

“His scars… what happened to them? Dean’s back was covered in scars but now these are the only marks on him.”

“Oh… a friend healed him. All his old injuries are gone.”

Brianna felt her eyes widen. “Well, where is this friend? Maybe…”

“No.” Sam cut her off. “He… he doesn’t have his own healing powers. He kinda ‘borrows’ energy and uses it in fights. This was a weird one off thing. The likelihood of him having excess power and us being in a position to use it like that again… Not really gonna happen.”

The explanation made little sense to the doctor, but she knew a definite negative response when she got one. 

“Well, looks like Dean wasn’t content to be without scars.” She tried to lighten the mood.

Sam let out a tiny laugh. “He never is.”

Once the cuts were sewn up, she removed the dressing from the back of his head. Something had bitten him. Luckily, while the teeth had left semi-deep puncture marks, the thing hadn’t torn away any of Dean’s scalp. A few of the wounds requires a couple stitches, but it wasn’t an awful injury. Especially compared to the rest of his wounds.

Lastly, the doctor cleaned off the wound on the boy’s forehead. It was a cut that ran from his hairline to just above his right eye. She cleaned it out and closed it up. 

Finally done, Brianna transferred Dean onto one of the two hospital beds that she had set up in her little clinic. Then she hooked him up to all the necessary monitors and pulled a blanket up and over his body. The doctor was pleased to see that his vitals had somewhat improved. 

“Let me change my smock and gloves and then I’ll have a look at that arm of yours.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Sam’s arm wasn’t infected, but it _did_ have two long cuts running from just under the elbow all the way down his forearm, with one of them just barely touching the back of his hand. Luckily, that portion of the wound was very shallow and hadn’t damaged anything but the skin. 

When the boy’s arm was taken care of, Brianna pointed to the other bed. “Sleep. I’m going to pull out the cot over there and get some rest myself. I'll hear if any of the monitor alarms get set off and I'll be right here to help. Tomorrow morning I’ll call my secretary. If Dean’s still stable, I’ll go in for a couple hours just to deal with a few of my patients that can’t be rescheduled to another day and I’ll leave early. If his condition worsens, I’ll just call out.”

“Thanks. For everything.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.” 

Brianna checked over her patient one more time before setting up the cot so that she could catch an hour of sleep before her day started for a second time.

…  
...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural…  
…

Sam awoke to the sound of a door closing. He lifted his head from where it rested on his brother’s chest (because he couldn’t fall asleep lying on a bed across the room from Dean, listening to the monitors and wondering when the alarms signaling a life-threatening emergency would go off) and looked around. Dr. Bryant was gone. She must’ve stepped out of her clinic and back into her house. 

The boy carefully sat up and looked down at his brother. Dean was still a bit too pale and sweaty, but he didn’t look like he had one foot in the grave anymore. A glance at the monitors showed that his both his blood pressure and his temperature had come down and that his pulse was steady. Nothing indicated any sort of organ failure. Also, Sam was certain that Dr. Bryant wouldn’t have left them alone if Dean was in danger of crashing.

Sam looked at his watch. It was after seven. Radio-silence time was over. Sam pulled out his cell, but hesitated. He didn’t want to call at a bad time if their hunt had run into over-time and they were in a dangerous spot. But it had been a time sensitive thing and his parents had been certain about the whole seven o’clock thing…

Decision made, the boy dialed his father. It was picked up after the second ring.

“Sam. What’s up? Everything alright?”

“Dad, where are you?”

“Sorry we’re not home yet, kiddo. The hunt ended on schedule but we ended up with some information to pass on to Bobby. It’ll only be another…”

“Dean’s hurt.”

Silence followed that statement for a couple seconds. “Where are you boys? How bad is he?”

“It’s bad, Dad. But we made it to Dr. Bryant’s. She patched him up. He’ll pull through so long as there’s no more complications.” Sam felt himself kind of choke on the last word as he imagined Dean dying now after everything he’d been through. “But Dad, his leg got messed up and she was saying that he might not walk right again because of it and I… I tried, Dad. I tried to help him. But he insisted on protecting all of us and there were too many of them and…”

“Sam, calm down.” His dad gently reprimanded.

Sam realized that he was crying and rambling. “Sorry. I just…”

“I know. We’ll be right there.”

“Okay.” Sam hung up and let the phone fall onto the bed. “Please be okay, Dean.”

“S’mmy…” The voice was weak, but it made Sam jump.

“Dean?” Sam raised his head from where he’d started to rest it in his hands to look over at his brother.

Dean’s eyelids were fluttering. “Sammy…”

“I’m here.” Sam reassured him.

“Safe?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re safe. The creatures are gone and everyone got out alright.”

“Home?”

“No. You were in bad shape, Dean. I had to bring you to the doctor?”

“Hosp’t’l?” Dean kind of slurred the one word question out.

“No. Didn’t know how to explain all this. I mean, I guess I could’ve said animal attack, but I was afraid there’d be an investigation…”

“Where?” Dean wanted to know.

“Dr. Bryant’s clinic.”

“Oh. That… bad?”

Sam suppressed a smile. “Yeah, Dean. That bad.” 

“Oh.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Feels bad.”

The door dividing Dr. Bryant’s home from her clinic for hunters suddenly opened and she walked in followed by the brothers’ parents and Cas. Sam waved to acknowledge them but then turned his attention back to Dean. 

“I know it hurts, but you’ll be okay”

“Hey, son.” John greeted his eldest gently as he approached. “How are you doing?”

“Alive.” Dean responded.

“Are you in a lot of pain? Do you need anything?” Their mom hovered at the bedside with a fretful expression. 

Dean rolled his eyes up to look at her. “Hurts. Meds?” 

Their mom turned to the doctor. “Can he have anything for the pain?”

“I gave him a dose of painkillers earlier and I can set up a controlled morphine drip to get him through the first couple of days, but I didn't want him on anything too strong until he awoke. I need to run some cognitive and motor functions tests and being too drugged up would interfere with the results.” Dr. Bryant turned her attention to Dean. “You up for answering a few questions?”

Dean gave a thumbs up and a weak smile.

Sam watched and listened as the doctor asked Dean the standard questions, along with some kind of easy brain teasers. Dean managed to answer everything, albeit in his one or two word sentences. She then had him squeeze her fingers, touch his nose, and perform other simple tasks. He complied, but his hands shook badly. Dr. Bryant explained that that was most likely from exhaustion and weakness rather than any permanent damage. After a bit, Dean fell asleep in the middle of her tests and the doctor hooked up his pain medication.

“He did excellent.” She informed the family. Sam let out a breath that he felt like he’d been holding forever. “So far, there are no signs that the blood loss led to a loss of oxygen to his brain. You’ll need to keep an eye on him for a while just in case though. Look for memory loss, motor function problems, speech issues, signs of seizure. Hopefully, he dodged a bullet here.” 

Sam nodded along with his parents. Cas had already placed his hand on Dean’s head and the boy knew that he was making certain that Dean didn't lapse back into Hell nightmares, as he sometimes did after traumatic events.

“What about his leg?”

The doctor sighed. “I did everything I could to give him the best chance for a full recovery but we just won't know until he heals. Scar tissue on the muscle causes pain and lack of a full range of motion, and with the extent of work I had to do on his leg… He needs to keep it wrapped and immobile for the first few weeks to give the sutured area time to heal. After that will come physical therapy and then we'll have a better idea of where we stand.”

“Thank you, Brianna.” Sam heard his mom say. But her voice was just background noise. The boy had turned his attention back to his sleeping brother. This wasn't supposed to have happened. It was supposed to have been an easy hunt. A cakewalk. A bonding experience for the brothers like the hunt the previous weekend had been (Sam couldn't even begin to pronounce that creature’s name, but Dean had helped him kill it and they’d saved three lives and gone out for burgers afterwards). It wasn't supposed to have hurt the older Winchester this badly. Sam wasn't supposed to be sitting there contemplating what kind of permanent injuries Dean might have. 

The boy curled up next to his sleeping brother, wrapped his arm around him and hoped that things would start to look up for them soon.


	231. Damaged

Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-One: Damaged 

The Winchester’s living room had been rearranged into a temporary bedroom for Dean due to the fact that the teenager couldn’t climb the stairs, so when John entered the room, he nearly tripped over the hamper that his wife had left near the doorway. Next to that was a basket filled with clean clothes. Dean lay sprawled out on the couch with books, notebooks, and papers scattered over himself and the coffee table. Sam had brought down Dean’s guitar and left it within easy reach. The tv remote and a game controller were lying on the floor not too far from the couch. The room was quickly filling up with clutter. And Dean had only been home since the previous evening.

John stepped around the mess and over to his eldest son. Dean’s left leg was lying on a pile of pillows, while his other was bent at the knee to prop up the notebook that he was writing in. He kept reaching up with his left hand to rub at the stitches in his forehead. 

The father watched him for a moment, torn between relief that his son was alive and home and fear over any long term injuries that Dean might be suffering from. Thus far, his body seemed to be healing very well, and the only worrying symptoms he was showing was a slight stutter and occasional mispronunciation when he spoke. Dr. Bryant informed them that it was possible that it was just his body recovering from the stress of all it had been through, but more than likely it was due to minor damage to his brain from lack of blood flow which may have caused apraxia of speech. If it was the first, it would improve within a few days. If it was the latter, the symptoms would remain but might diminish with time and therapy. 

Dean looked up from his work and gave a slight, but tired smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, Dean. I thought we agreed that the school work could wait. Your mother brought the doctor’s notes to all of your professors and they all agreed on extending the times for your projects and reports.”

“Not school work, Dad.” Dean corrected. “I’m going through the je...jen..jer..journ...journal.” John saw his son wince and squeeze his fist in anger when he stumbled over the word. 

“The journal?” The older Winchester looked down to see that, sure enough, the old book was wedged between Dean and the back of the couch. “Why would you…”

“I messed up!” Dean exclaimed, raising his voice for the first time since he’d been injured. “I sr...screw...screwed up the hunt be...because of bad en...in...infern...inforn…” Dean got upset when he couldn’t get the word ‘information’ out and threw his hands up in frustration. “I didn’t l...look into it enough. S...sir...sorry, Dad.”

John sighed and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, it’s not your fault.” He saw the teen open his mouth to protest but raised a hand to halt him. “We work off that damned thing all the time. And sometimes, yeah, the intel is incomplete. But this is only the second time that it’s been _this_ wrong. And if you recall, last time _I_ was the one who took us all out on that hunt when I thought it was a ghost thing.”

“And it turned out to be di...demons.” Dean finished.

“Exactly.” And Dean had gotten badly hurt _then_ too. But John didn’t focus on that. “So, in all those years since, we’ve done just fine. You had no reason to doubt the intel, Dean. If anyone’s to blame it’s that damned other-me who doesn’t know how to properly edit his journal.” He said it lightly, but he really wished that there was a way to cross over to that other timeline and smack his alternate self.

“Well, doesn’t mad...ma...matter who’s fault it is. Either way, I’m useless now.”

And that sentence kind of killed John. Surely his son couldn’t think… “Dean, you know that even _if_ the worst _had_ happened and you were never able to hunt again, you wouldn’t be useless, right?”

Dean shrugged, obviously choosing to not even attempt speech.

“Dean, first off, that leg of yours _is_ going to get better. At the very worst, you’ll have a slight limp. You’re going to be back on your feet in no time.”

“Can’t hunt with a le...limp.”

“If you end up with a limp and you still want to hunt, we’d make it work. We made it work when you wanted to hunt but were too small to use a shotgun or even a handgun. We made it work when you were having flashbacks to Hell and needed to be reminded sometimes of what was and what wasn’t really there. A slight limp is nothing. The Dean Winchester _I_ know doesn’t let anything stop him when he wants to do something. And we’re all here to support and help you.”

“My speech.”

“How’s that going to stop you?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ll mess up dit...det...dea...details and screw stuff up. And the other hunters…” John’s son looked down without finishing.

“You’re afraid that other hunters won’t show you respect.”

Dean nodded.

“I get it. You’ve worked hard for years while hunters just saw you as a kid and now that you’re finally getting to the point where age won’t be an issue, you’re afraid that this’ll make them think less of you.”

Another miserable nod.

“Then screw the hell out of them, Dean.” The boy looked up as John continued. “You proved yourself so many times already and I know that you’ll keep doing so. You are one of the very best out there and if some assholes choose not to see it because you have a slight limp or because you get a couple of words wrong… well then, they’ll miss out on working with the greatest hunter I know.”

Dean half-smiled and let out a kind of a dismissive snort, but John could tell that he was touched.

“Thanks. And I wanna. Hunt.”

“Then we’ll get you there again.” John reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, but then thought better of it and instead pulled him into a hug. 

…  
...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural..supernatural...supernatural...  
…

Dean hugged his dad back briefly, then sent a quick smile to the man as he removed the journal and notebook from the couch and tossed them onto the coffee table. 

“I better get to work, son.”

“Bye.”

Dean watched his father leave the room. He was sorely tempted to snatch the stuff he’d been working on back up, but he was tired and looking over the few details of the botched hunt wasn’t doing anyone any good. He just was so damned pissed off that everything had gone so wrong. Dean kept thinking that he’d find some note or drawing or _something_ in the journal that should’ve clued him in that it was a much more dangerous hunt than what was written about. But he was beginning to think that Sam’s theory was right. Their dad had never worked this case in the old timeline. Dean didn’t remember it of course, but then again Dad had sometimes left him to take care of Sammy and gone out on hunts without the older brother knowing the details. And the very next entry in the journal was about demonic signs, so maybe Dad had dropped this hunt before he’d ever gotten there and went to go track a demon. It was very possible.

The teen was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t realize that anyone had entered the room until a voice interrupted him.

“Good morning, Dean.”

Dean sent Sam a wave. ‘Morning’ was one of those words that just never wanted to come out right and he didn’t feel like fighting to talk right then.

“So, I’m all set for school, but I don’t have to leave for a while still, so I was wondering if you wanted to play ‘Gran Turismo’?” The younger boy gestured to the playstation.

Dean shrugged.

Sam went over without even waiting for a real answer. “I mean, Mom’ll probably come in soon to call me for breakfast, but I only want a poptart today because she got the cinnamon sugar ones this time and I love those, so it won’t really take me that long to eat.” He popped open the top of the game system and made a face. “Really, Dean?” He held up ‘Resident Evil’. “We don’t get enough of this in real life?”

Dean shrugged again.

Sam put the game away and took out the one he wanted. Dean watched his brother get the game set up. All the while, the boy kept chatting away. “I mean, I prefer puzzle games or the strategy ones, and no, the so-called ‘puzzles’ in those survival horror games don't count. But really, I've been getting into the RPGs too because they’re pretty fun. And you know I love racing against you in stuff like this. Even _if_ you always win. But you know…”

“Sammy!” Dean broke into his little brother’s pointless ramble. “Just ‘cause I'm not tl...tal...talking much doesn't mean you gotta be a cat...chat...chatter bok...box.” And damn, but speaking was a chore at times. It was like his brain knew what it wanted to say but his mouth was just _not_ getting the right signals. 

“That's not why I was…”

“And you don't gotta babes...babysti...babysit me.”

“I'm not!” Sam protested.

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“I just… I want to be with you, Dean. I thought I was going to lose you! When I went back and you were lying there on the floor and that thing was chewing on you and there was so much blood… God, Dean… I thought you were dead. I thought you'd died a horrible death because I left you there alone. And I know that all this…” The boy made a wild gesture at Dean. “Is my fault.”

“What?!”

“If you'd had a better hunting partner…”

“No.” Dean cut him off right there. “Sammy, you did the job and you did it damned wi...well.” Dean spoke slowly and chose his words carefully to hopefully avoid making too much of a mess at his attempt at speech. “Hell, you went uv...ove...over and above the job. You came back for me. I'd be dead if not for you. And you cam...coml...compli...compli… Uh!” Dean growled in frustration when the word ‘completed’ just wouldn't come out at all. He tried a different approach. “You fish...fin...finished the hunt without me. You're a hero, Sammy.”

Sam smiled as he sat down next to Dean and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But I'd never have lived long enough to have done any of that if you hadn't had our backs out in the hall when all those creatures attacked. Or if you hadn't gotten us out of the classroom safely. You're _my_ hero, Dean.”

Dean made a show of rolling his eyes, but responded seriously. “Well, I guess we just m...make one helluva good team.”

Sam’ smile turned into a full blown grin. “Guess so.” A moment passed and then the younger brother seemed to realize that Dean needed a break from the talking. “So, are we gonna play or what?”

“Or what.” A voice cut in. “Go eat breakfast, Sam.” 

They looked up to see their mom standing at the doorway to the dining room. Sam groaned, but got up. He patted Dean's shoulder, and Dean gave him a playful shove. As the younger boy was leaving, their mom called to him.

“And not another Poptart!”

“Awwww…”

Dean snickered. “Stop buying that kind.” He suggested to his mom.

“And I suppose I should stop buying those Hot Pockets you like too? Then maybe you'd eat something else at lunchtime?”

Dean shot her a look. “Cas wa...would help me get them.”

“Trouble makers. All of you.” She kissed Dean on the head, right near the row of stitches. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Dean shrugged.

“How’s the leg.”

“Hurts.”

“Any burning?”

“No.” Dean knew that they were keeping an eye out for signs of infection. 

“Good. I'll take a look later when I change the bandages. Does your head hurt?”

“Not much.”

“And your back?”

“Painful.”

“Is the couch comfortable enough for you? We can always get…”

“Mom, I'm fine.” 

“Of course you are.” And she sighed. “If there's anything you need…”

“I'll li...let you know.” He promised.

“After I take Sam to school, I have some shopping to do. Or we might run out of all that junk food you boys love so much.”

Dean nodded.

“But if you need anything, anything at all, just send Castiel to come find me and I'll be right home.”

She handed him a list of stores she was going to. Dean glanced at it without really looking, then shoved it into a nearby notebook. 

“Do you want breakfast before I go?”

Dean shook his head.

“Well, remember to eat soon. And have Castiel bring it to you so that you're not straining that leg too much. Only get up to use the bathroom and don't try to walk without help.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He was damaged, not dying. And he knew the drill.

A bit later, after everyone had left, Dean sat up, positioning his leg as comfortably as possible. “Okay, Cas. So...show time.”

“Are you certain that you wish to do this?”

“No, but I gotta.” Dean helped his friend clear off the coffee table. “No time li...left.”

To his credit, the angel didn't question him any further and merely kept setting the necessary items up. When it was done, he turned to Dean. 

“And you believe this will work?” 

“Don’t see why not. He's big on ra...rules.” Dean took a deep breath. “Just help with the spa...spea...speak...speaking part, ‘kay?”

Cas inclined his head in agreement. 

Dean took another breath before starting the ritual. A few moments later, the lights started to flicker.

“Hello, boys.” 

Dean looked up to see Crowley standing in the living room. He could tell that the demon was uncomfortable due to the many wards in the house, but was trying to hide it. The ritual allowed him in only when summoned and the wards would make his demon powers all but useless.

“Crowley.” Cas greeted.

“To what do I owe this pleasure? You want my hounds to chase down the truck that ran you over ?” Crowley smirked at Dean.

“We want you to keep a close eye on the crossroads demons that work under you.” Cas informed him.

“You implying that I'm not doing my job?”

“Is it your job to make deals with children?” The angel challenged.

“Children are off limits for deals.” Crowley immediately informed him. The demon was an ass, but he had rules.

“Apparently, not all of your underlings are aware of that fact. Or they make deals against the rules knowingly. Either way…” Cas left the thought hanging.

“What are you talking about? Who made a deal?”

Dean shook his head. “Not made yet.”

Crowley turned to him. “It _does_ speak!”

Dean scowled. 

“Crowley!” Cas snapped. 

“What? I was just trying to figure out what was wrong with the Heckle to your Jeckle.”

“Back to the p...po...point.” Dean cut in before Crowley could continue his teasing or Cas could question who Heckle and Jeckle were. Which would lead to more teasing.

Crowley gave an odd look at Dean’s stumbled word, but surprisingly left it alone. “The point, yes. So what is this deal you're talking about and how do you know of it?”

Cas tilted his head to the side. “We cannot disclose how we come about our information, but a fourteen year old girl named Bela Talbot will be making a deal. And if nothing has changed, it will take place tomorrow.”

Dean had wondered if killing Lilith and all the other changes that they'd made would stop the demons from making the deal with Bela, but Cas (who still seemed to be able to sense extreme changes to the original timeline when he encountered them) told him that everything was still set to happen. So, they'd sent a message to Gabriel to let him know that Bela’s father needed his services and now they needed to prevent the deal from taking place before the archangel got over there to do his job. 

“Well, that's not much notice, is it?”

“Been busy.” Dean answered. 

“Busy getting your ass kicked.” Crowley snarked.

“Maybe, but at lis...lea...least I don't have to worry ad...about those er...around me bit...betri...betraying me.” Dean shot back. 

“You don’t get much loyalty from demons.” Crowley explained, but Dean could’ve sworn that his comment had stung him a bit. “Well, I’ll go look into that and you should check into some speech classes.” 

Dean flipped him off.

“Rude, but at least _that_ was clear.” 

“So’s this.” Dean stated. “If you sc...screw this up, our deal is off.”

“Oh, I'm quivering.”

“You should.” Dean narrowed his eyes. “We've ti...taken out many demons acting e...ags...again...against you. You have little to show for your side of the ber...barn...barg...bargain. So, step up or get out.”

It was Crowley’s turn to scowl. “I've provided you Winchesters with information…”

“Not much.”

“Dean is correct.” Cas stepped in. “Thus far, you have been getting far more from this bargain than we have. Even now, if you prevent this deal and make an example of the demon who would go behind your back, it would prove to help your reputation.”

“True.” Crowley allowed. “And be aware; I don't back out of deals. You'll get what you need from me.”

“Then go get it done.” Dean all but ordered.

With one last look, the demon disappeared.

Dean flopped back down to lay on the couch. “Well, that wa...went well.”

“I believe it did.”

The hunter didn't bother to inform the angel that he'd been being sarcastic. Because maybe Cas was right. Sure it had been a bitch to do all that damned back and forth with the demon, but Crowley _had_ agreed to do what they needed. And now there was one more big thing crossed off of his timeline to do list. 

Of course, it had left him with one problem. Dean had to quickly clean the summoning crap up off the coffee table before his family got home and gave him hell for doing this.


	232. A New Hunt

Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Two: A New Hunt 

The hesitant knock at the door made Dean pause in the middle of the song, his hand hovering over the guitar strings. He'd been playing the instrument for the last hour or so, just wasting some time before he had to go to physical therapy. Dean had figured that he'd stop soon and maybe play a video game or read or something, but now that'd have to be put on hold. Sam was upstairs, still a forbidden place for Dean until his leg was a bit better, and probably hadn't heard the knocking. Besides, even with all of the protection the house had and all the training the younger brother had gone through, Dean still preferred not to have him answer the door alone. Just in case. 

So the teen struggled to his feet, favoring his left leg, and grabbed the crutch that was leaning against the side of the couch. Once he was stable, Dean slowly made his way to the door. But apparently he was moving too slow for whoever had knocked, because they repeated the action.

“Yeah, I'm coming.” He called out. “Hold your dan...damned horses.”

When he reached the entrance, he balanced himself carefully, placing the crutch up against the wall, and reached for the doorknob with one hand while the other was at the ready to grab a weapon if needed. But when the door opened, he relaxed a bit. A hot looking girl in her mid-twenties was standing there and although it took Dean a moment, he recognized her.

“Krissy?”

She stared at him for a moment, and Dean realized that while she hadn't changed too much in the past seven years, he had. But then a smile came to her face.

“Dean?” She looked him up and down. “Wow, you got hot.”

Dean grinned. “Thanks, you're not so bad yourself.”

Krissy did a little pretend curtsy. “Thank you kind sir.”

“And not that I mind the cop...compm…compla...compliment, but I doubt you came here to check me out.”

Krissy gave an odd look at his stumbled attempt at speech and Dean fought hard to not get embarrassed. But instead of bringing it up, she responded to his comment. 

“Well, unfortunately you're right. This isn't just a social call. Although, I wouldn't mind catching up. I mean, you really helped me out back in high school and I should've done better to keep in touch.”

Dean shook his head. “You had your own life.”

“Well, I wouldn't have had a life at all if you hadn't saved it. Which is kinda why I'm here.”

“What happened?”

She sighed. “Can I come in? It might take a bit to explain.”

Dean knew that his parents would kill him for taking a hunt (if that's what this turned out to be), but he figured that it couldn't hurt to hear her out. Besides, he was going a bit stir crazy.

“Sure.”

Dean opened the door to let her enter. Krissy stepped in and past him, but then paused to wait. The hunter closed the door and grabbed his crutch. The young woman's eyes widened.

“Oh… What happened to you? Are you okay?”

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “Getting there. Some things are her...harder to stop than wic...witches.”

“Harder than dealing with those bag things that almost made us all dead?” She sounded incredulous. 

“Yep.”

“So I guess I was right to come here.”

Dean looked up at her curiously as he sat down on the couch, dropping the crutch to the floor.

“How so?”

“Well, I kind of figured that you were into weird stuff. I mean, when it came to that witchcraft stuff all those years ago, you believed it right away and knew so much about it. But I didn’t get the feeling that you practiced it or anything like that.”

“Hell no.” Dean responded.

“Right, so I guessed that you just studied creepy stuff or something. And I also got the feeling that you’d encountered stuff like that before.”

Dean nodded as she sat down next to him.

“But it’s not something that I’ve really thought about much. I mean, the whole thing with Sheila still haunted me a bit over the years, but we all tried to put it behind us. And it worked, for the most part, until recently.” Krissy took a deep breath. “You remember Erin, right?”

Dean nodded again. That had been Krissy’s friend that they’d saved from unwillingly jumping to her death.

“Well, she loves camping and other outdoors stuff. And she sometimes convinces Trudy and I to go with her. So anyways, Trudy is still in Boston, she took some summer courses because she’s working on a doctorate, but I agreed to go up to the campground with Erin. And it’s kinda fun, you know. Campfires, s’mores, no work… but then, stuff started happening.”

“Is Erin okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I should’ve started off by letting you know that we were alright. Nothing bad has happened directly to us. But there have been deaths there. And with everything… I’m a bit nervous to stay there.”

“They didn’t close down the cap...campr...campground when people sar...started dying?”

“Well, none of the bodies have been found in the park itself, and only one of the deaths was someone staying there. My guess is that they just don’t want to lose the money they would if they closed down until this was solved.”

Dean nodded. “So, deaths… Why do you think it’s sm...somet...something weird.” 

“Well, I was out walking and saw the police talking with the family of the girl from the campground who died. I… I kind of eavesdropped on the conversation. Ever since high school and that whole incident, I get nervous whenever something bad happens around me. Which is stupid, I know, since Sheila is gone and no one else has any reason to harm me but still…” Krissy sighed. “Yeah, it’s definitely stupid.”

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s…” He stopped himself before he could attempt to say ‘understandable’. There was no way in hell that he wouldn’t mangle that one. His speech therapist had told him that he should slow down when talking and choose his words carefully. Right now, he should only really use big and complicated words when practicing. “I get it.”

“But anyway, as they were leaving and talking with each other, the police said that the body was near frozen when found and looked like something had ripped it’s way out of the body. One of the guys even made a lame ‘Alien’ joke.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “Frozen? It’s been warm.”

“Yeah, even at night.” Krissy confirmed. “And the rest of it is just…” She shivered dramatically.

“Anythe… thing else?”

“Yeah, and this is the creepy part. Not that the deaths aren’t creepy, but… anyway… The night before the girl died, Erin had left our tent during the night. She went to the vending machine near the ranger station to grab a bottle of water because we were out and the water from the pumps tastes funny. When she got back, she was shaken. She said that she heard a wailing sound out in the distance. She got unnerved and came back without even getting her drink.”

“Wailing?”

“Yeah, she said she didn’t know how to exactly describe it. Just… wailing. Inhuman -like wailing.” 

“Huh…”

“So, what do you think?”

“I think you made a good cho...choice in coming here.”

Krissy let out a sigh. “Oh, good. I mean, I was pretty sure, but then I thought maybe I was wrong and you’d just think I was nuts. Or maybe I _was_ nuts…”

“Nope.”

“So, can you help?”

“Yes.”

…  
...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural…  
…

Krissy couldn’t help but feel immensely relieved. She’d known that something was wrong at that campground (well, technically, in the woods next to the campground) but hadn’t a clue as to what it was or what she could do. All she knew was that there was a creepy wailing in the middle of the night and people had died. Terribly. And she didn’t want herself or Erin to be next. Krissy was a bit ashamed to admit that her first instinct had been to pack up all their things, grab her friend, and go home where it was safe. But the thought of leaving others to die didn’t sit right with the girls. And there was the (most likely irrational) fear that whatever had done that would somehow follow them home.

So, she’d been a bit lost on what to do next when she’d remembered Dean. That little kid who’d known about witchcraft and how to survive it and stop it. Who was smart and brave and would probably be perfect for a situation like this. Krissy had hesitated at first, feeling awkward about just showing up at his house after all these years, but figured if he was willing to help out back then, it should be fine now.

Of course it hadn’t crossed her mind that he’d be almost twenty years old now and she’s been a bit thrown off when he’d opened the door. Because he’d gone from cute kid to hot young man. And it seemed that he was still active with helping people out of weird stuff. 

She hadn’t expected him to be injured though, (maybe she should’ve since the last time they’d worked together Dean had had his arm in a brace and then had been placed in deadly situations, so it seemed like that was just the way his life went) and was a bit concerned about having him take this ‘case’ if he wasn’t up to it. He had leaned pretty heavily on that crutch while walking, had a fading scar on his forehead, and although she wouldn’t be rude and ask about it, his speech difficulties definitely indicated that he’d been hurt badly. But Dean wouldn’t have offered to help if he thought that he couldn’t handle it, would he?

Krissy realized that Dean was watching her. “What?”

“You’re staring.”

Oh… yeah, she had been. “You look good, that’s all.”

Dean snorted. “Tell my faml...family that.”

“Tell us what?”

Krissy turned to see a young teenage boy coming down the stairs.

“That I look good.”

The boy made a face. “Well, you don’t look like you’re half dead anymore, but I don’t know if I’d go so far as to use the word ‘good’.” A smile showed that he was teasing.

“You’re just ja...jels...jealous.” Dean shot back. The boy walked over to stand next to Dean. “Krissy, this is my brother, Sam.”

“Hi!” The boy offered his hand.

Krissy shook it. “Hey. I was just talking with your brother about a problem my friend and I have.” She wasn’t sure what she could say in front of the boy.

Sam whipped his head around to face Dean. “I hope it’s not _our kind_ of problem.”

Well, it looked like the younger brother knew of that stuff too.

“Yep.”

“Dean…”

“We gotta.”

“Mom and Dad’ll flip out if you even think of it! You still…”

“It’ll be fine.” Dean interrupted. “I won’t go la...alone or do the heavy lifting.”

“Dean…”

“And we get a nice cap...camping trip out of it!”

“Really?” Now Sam seemed interested. 

“Yep.”

“Fine, I’ll back you on it _if_ you promise to be extra super careful.”

“Deal.”

“I don't want you to get in any trouble or to get hurt further.” Krissy spoke up.

“Don't worry ad...about it.” Dean shrugged. “Done harder stuff in worse sa...shape.”

“ _Not_ something to brag about, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes.

Krissy smiled. “So, I'll give you the info on where we're staying and what site we're in. And maybe you can come up tonight or tomorrow?”

She didn't want to push, but going back there was making her nervous.

Dean nodded. “Our dad has work, but Mom can po...prom...probal...pro…” He closed his eyes and clenched a fist, obviously frustrated. Sam was looking at him with a kind of sad expression but made no move to finish the word for him. “...most la...likely take us.”

“Sounds great!” Krissy exclaimed. 

“And we'll do some research before going so maybe we'll have some answers when we get there.” Sam informed her.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I really didn't have anyone else to go to with this.”

“Happy to help.” Dean responded.

Krissy picked up one of the notebooks from the coffee table and a pen. She opened it up and flipped past the pages that had writing in them. Once she found a blank page, she wrote down the campground and directions to get there along with her site number. Krissy was about to hand it back when she thought of something else. She wrote down the numbers and handed it to Dean. 

“That's my cellphone number. Call if you need anything.”

Dean nodded and wrote down what she was guessing was his number. He tore that part off and handed it to her. 

“That's mine.” He confirmed her suspicions.

She stood to leave. “I guess I'll see you soon.”

Dean smiled and nodded.

As she left, Krissy felt like a weight had been lifted. She'd gotten help and now everything would be alright.


	233. Welcome to Camp Death

Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Three: Welcome to Camp Death 

Mary watched her boys helping to set up camp and prayed to God that she knew what she was doing when she’d said yes to this hunt. Sam was helping to bring all their gear into the tents, while Dean was sitting on the picnic table, hooking up the propane stove and grill. There hadn’t been too much that she could assign her eldest son to do with his leg still not in the greatest condition. Actually, Mary would’ve felt better if Dean had brought up both of his crutches, but he’d just been downgraded to one and he’d outright refused to take a step backwards. 

As she moved over to where he sat, the mother smiled. Her son had his earphones on and was singing along to his music.

“Don't need reason  
Don't need rhyme  
Ain't nothin' that I'd rather do  
Goin' down  
Party time  
My friends are gonna be there too  
I'm on the highway to hell  
On the highway to hell  
Highway to hell  
I'm on the highway to hell”

The strange thing was that, when he sang, his voice was perfect. He never stumbled over his words or stuttered at all. His speech therapist said that that was normal. Something about the fact that his brain didn’t have to work at all with songs that he knew by heart. Mary wondered if it would work the same with other memorized things like exorcisms. 

Watching him, she realized that this was the happiest that she’d seen him in a very long while. Dean had been in a bit of a depression since he’d been severely injured during that damned hunt and no matter what they’d tried, he just hadn’t been able to pull completely out of it. John had informed her that he’d spoken with Dean and that he’d let slip that he felt useless due to his long-term injuries. Dean had been working hard, never skipping physical or speech therapy and doing all his practice, and seemed determined to get back to full health as soon as possible, all the while fearing that he never would make it back to perfect condition. But now it seemed that being out on a hunt, feeling needed again, had put him in a good mood. And while it warmed her heart to see him happy, it also made her a bit sad that this was the only thing that could make him feel complete.

“Hey, Mom?” Sam’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Should we start dinner yet?”

Mary looked at her watch. “We've got a little time still. Why, are you hungry?” Sam had been going through several growth spurts lately and seemed to never stop eating.

“A bit.”

“There's some granola bars in the snack bag. Just make sure not to keep any food in the tent with you boys unless you want animals visiting you overnight.”

“Okay!”

She watched him run off to grab one, then walked over to the picnic table. Dean saw her coming and stopped his singing, pulling the earphones from his ears. 

“What's up?”

“Do you need a snack?”

“Nah, I'm fine.”

“Let me know if you do and I'll bring you something.”

Dean made a face. “Or I can, you know, go and get one.”

Mary sighed. “I don't mind…”

“Yeah, but I can do simple things mysl...myself.”

“Yes, but…”

“Mom.” And there it was. Dean was putting his foot down. 

Mary was only trying to help. Dean was her son, and he'd almost died, and he was still hurt, and yeah maybe she was trying to baby him a bit but still… She only wanted what was best for him. But maybe she had to let him win this one. Just like she was letting him out on this hunt (on light duty).

“Fine. But if you do need help with anything…”

Dean gave her a smile. “I'll ask.”

“Good.”

“So when do you want me to start the burr...burgers?”

“You?”

“I'll sit while I cook.”

“Dean…” Mary knew she'd just decided to give him more space but why did he have to keep pushing?

“And you know I cook them best.”

“I was planning on sandwiches for dinner tonight anyway.” She didn't want to do this tonight.

Dean shrugged like it didn't matter. “Whater...whatev….whatever.”

Mary was feeling a bit frustrated when she realized that someone was standing right behind her. She spun around to see a pretty young woman with long blonde hair standing there looking a bit awkward. She was wearing a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a black tank top with a picture of a pink heart on it. She smiled at Mary.

“You must be Mrs. Winchester. I’m Krissy. Thank you so much for coming. My friend, Erin and I really appreciate it. We're camped right across the road there.” She pointed at the tent set up across the gravel road. “I was wondering if I could borrow your son for a moment?”

“Borrow him?”

“Uh, yeah… Just to talk. About this whole thing.”

“Wouldn't it be better to talk to all of us?” Mary questioned with a smile.

“What? Oh, well, it's not really important. I just have some questions really. Some stuff I want to get cleared up before we all talk.”

Yeah. Sure. This girl was trying to get Mary’s son alone. And it had nothing to do with the case. 

“Alright. But don't go too far. We'll be having dinner soon. And take it easy on that leg, Dean.”

“Got it.”

Dean practically leapt from the table, landing on his right leg, and snatched up his crutch. Mary watched the two of them walk off and hoped that her son would be careful.

…  
...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural…  
...

Dean tried his best to keep up with Krissy. He knew that he was a bit slow with the crutch, but was embarrassed to ask her to slow down. She'd come to him for help and he wanted to prove to her that he could handle it. 

After they'd walked for a couple of minutes, Dean broke the silence. “What'd you wanna talk about?” He was pleased that the sentence came out clear.

“Oh… Nothing really.” Krissy shrugged. “I just heard what was going on and thought you might want to take a walk for a few minutes.” When Dean gave her a questioning look she seemed embarrassed. “After Trudy lost most of her sight, her mom kind of smothered her, so I used to think up excuses to get her away sometimes so she'd have a break. Thought you looked like you could use one too.”

“Well, thanks. But my mom’s not stupid. She prom...probl...probably knows that you just wanted to get me la…alone. So, now she most likely thinks we're making out.”

Krissy laughed. “Now there's a good idea. Of course, with people dying around here, wouldn't that put us on the victims list? Horror movie 101.”

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “Not if we're the ha...heroes. Then we get a pass.” 

“Good to know.” 

Krissy led him off the gravel road onto a dirt path. It took them through some trees and bushes to a clearing that held an old stone firepit and a picnic table that had seen better days.

“I hope you’re not ple...planning on killing me out here.” Dean joked.

The young woman laughed. “No. I like to come here sometimes. This is an old campsite. You saw how your site had a metal ring for a firepit?” A Dean’s nod, she nodded back and continued. “Well, they used to have stone ones like this when I was younger. And the tables were smaller, like this. The large tables are made that way to be handicap accessible. Of course, that’s pointless because the campsites aren’t wheelchair friendly, but I guess no one ever thought about that. But yeah, this used to be a site but you’d have to park down by site twenty-seven and walk up that path carting all your gear here and no one liked that, so they eventually let it get over-grown. So now it’s just a little secret place a few people know about.”

Dean looked around. “Why is it cleared out?”

Krissy smirked. “Because I think some of the rangers keep it cleared out to come out at night and drink, party, and have sex.”

Dean grinned. “That’s what I’d do.”

The girl hopped up to sit on the table. Dean sat next to her carefully, and placed his crutch next to him.

“I know I’ve thanked you before,” Krissy started. “But it really means alot to me that you’re doing this.”

“It’s what I do.”

“Which is just weird… but helpful.” The young woman sighed. “You know, when this started, I got really pissed. I was like, why did this have to happen to me? You know? For the second time in my life, I was getting screwed over by weird stuff. But I guess I’m lucky because if it hadn’t happened the first time, I wouldn’t know who to go to now. Right?”

Dean shrugged. “True.”

“Of course, if you weren’t there the first time, then I wouldn’t be alive for a second time... This isn’t going to keep happening, is it?”

“No. the first time you were a tag...target. This is just wrong pa...place… wrong time.”

“Good.” She sighed. The her expression turned sly. “So, about that making out…”

Dean favored her with a flirtatious smile. “What about it?”

“Well, you’re not too injured for that, are you?”

“Never.”

With a grin, Krissy climbed onto his lap, straddling him and looped her arms around his shoulders. She leaned in and kissed him deeply. Dean returned the kiss, and ran his hands up her back. She slid one of her hands down and under the edge of his t-shirt, while her tongue explored his mouth. Dean pressed his body into hers as his hand slipped under her tank top. Unfortunately, they didn’t get a chance to get too much further when Sam’s voice reached them.

“Dean! Dean! Mom says it’s dinner time!”

Dean groaned. “Rain check?”

“Definitely.”

They got up off the table and made their way out back to the gravel path. Dean saw his little brother further up ahead of them.

“Hey, Sammy!”

“Dean! Where were you?” The boy looked all around.

“Bathroom.” Dean pointed in the opposite direction from where they’d come from.

“Oh. Well, Mom got the rolls and lunch meats out already.”

“Then we’d best go ber...before she sends out a sec...search party.” Dean ruffled Sam’s hair as the boy got close enough. Then the three of them set off toward the campsites.

…  
...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural...supernatural…  
…

That night, Mary found it difficult to sleep. Dean and Sam were in in their own tent and she had one all to herself. If the hunt wasn’t completed by the weekend, John would come up and stay with them and Cas would as well. Truthfully, she’d feel better if Cas was there right now, but the angel was needed on a hunt that was supposed to have been handled by the family that week but now was going to Bobby, Bill Harvelle, and Cas due to Dean’s injuries. It was a strenuous and rather dangerous hunt and there was no way that the teenage hunter could work it right now. But Cas had left instructions to call him if Dean needed help and he’d come at a moment’s notice. Still, Mary kept wondering if they should even be here.

It had made her son happy though. He’d eaten well at dinner time and had roasted marshmallows over the campfire that they’d had with the girls from the site across the road. Her son had even gone so far as to indulge his brother’s need to sing a couple of campfire songs. All in all, it was the most lively she’d seen her eldest in a while. Mary just hoped it didn’t end up costing his life.

As she turned over trying to get comfortable, Mary heard something outside the tent. It sounded like something was sniffing around close by. She groaned and inwardly scolded Sam for leaving food out. He’d been munching on the snack cakes and cookies right up until bedtime and most likely had left out treats for the local wildlife.

Mary unzipped her tent and poked her head out just in time to come face to face with a huge raccoon. It’s eyes widened and it made a weird sound and fled. Mary grabbed the flashlight and got out of the tent. Sure enough, snack cake wrappers were scattered around the campsite. With a sigh, she started picking them up. When the ground was clean and all the food and trash was secured in her car, the woman turned to get back into the tent. But that was when she heard it.

There was a strange wailing sound off in the distance. Mary opened up the car again and pulled out her gun. She shoved it into the waistband of her pajama pants and then locked up the vehicle. The wailing stopped. Mary walked around the site a bit to see if she could locate anything. When she reached the very edge of the site, the sound started up again, but this time it was closer. Mary swept her gaze around but didn’t see anything. And the sound was like nothing she’d ever heard before. It was sad, lonely, creepy, and just… made her feel cold down to her bones. Then it stopped. Mary looked over at her sons’ tent. It appeared safe. The girls’ site seemed secure too. Then the wailing started up again. Now it was slightly closer and to her right. If she remembered correctly, that was where the beach was. The wailing rose a bit in pitch. And then someone let out a scream from that direction.

Mary briefly considered waking her sons, but figured that they’d be safer in the tent. She took off towards the beach. The hunter ran across the gravel path to the paved main road and all the way up to the bathroom. Then she passed the building and went onto the dirt path and through the trees and out into the clearing and continued to follow the path until she saw the grass turn to sand. Mary raced towards the water as she saw something floating in it. But as she got closer she slowed down.

Her flashlight illuminated the body of a man and she knew that she was much too late. He was lying face up in the water, his lips blue and eyes sightless. The rest of the body was torn up, with the flesh and insides hanging out and the blood turning the water around it a gross pink color. 

Mary shined her light around but there was no trace of whatever killed the man at all. Not a footprint or a speck of blood on the sand. Whatever had killed him had done so quickly and violently and had left without disturbing anything around it.


	234. A Cry in the Night

Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Four: A Cry in the Night

“So, all they did was close off the si...swimg….swimming area?” Dean asked. He couldn't believe it. A dead body had been found at the beach of the campground and the owners were acting like nothing was wrong. On the other hand, the campground remaining open made their job that much easier.

His mom nodded. “They're cooperating with the police, but maintaining that nothing has happened in the park here and that the campers are perfectly safe.”

“Perfectly safe… Until they're her...horril...horribly killed.” He rolled his eyes as he took a bite of his breakfast.

“So you didn't see what did it?” Sam questioned.

Their mom shook her head. “Not even a clue.”

“You shi...should've woken us.” Dean scolded. “It was den...dander…..dangr….dangerous to go alone.”

“I know. I just… I wanted to keep you boys safe.”

“And we need to keep you safe.” Dean informed her.

“We're a team.” Sam joined in. “We need to work together so everyone stays safe and alive or this won't work.”

“I know.” Their mom confessed. “I won't do something like that again.”

“So what's our next step?” Sam wanted to know.

“Research.” 

Dean groaned. “Come on. We're on ve...vacation. Can't it be something more fun?”

“We have to know what this thing is so that we can track it and kill it.” Mary turned to Sam. “You're coming with me to the local library to look and see if this has happened before and to check on the history of this place.” Then she looked at Dean. “You know those girls that called us out here the best, so you stay here with them and you can go together to check the previous kill sites. None of the attacks have taken place in the early afternoon or at the same place twice, so you should be fine. But please be careful.”

Dean nodded. 

“And stay safe.”

“Will do.”

After they finished eating breakfast and cleaned up the table, Dean headed across the gravel path to Krissy and Erin’s site. The girls were playing frisbee in the area behind their tent. He leaned on his crutch and sped up his steps a bit to get behind Krissy just as the disk was thrown to her. Dean reached over her head and snatched it out of the air.

“My point!” He exclaimed.

The young woman turned around and gently smacked his shoulder. “Cheater.”

Dean heard Erin laugh. He sent a smirk over her way. Erin, like her friend, hadn't changed much over the years. She still kept her hair short and spiky (although now it was dyed purple) and she was still rather petite. They'd told Dean the previous day that they'd graduated college with degrees in cosmetology and Erin had one in small business, so they'd opened their own hair salon with money from Erin’s parents. It was a small place in a little shopping plaza but they'd gotten a pretty decent clientele already and had developed good word of mouth. The girls had made Dean promise to stop by at some point to get a haircut.

“Actually, interception by Dean was never specifically mentioned as being against the rules.” The smaller girl pointed out.

“Oh, so you're on his side?”

“If it means that you lose the point, yeah. Because then I win.”

Dean held the frisbee up high. “I'm the one hod...holding this, so _I_ win.”

“That is _not_ part of the rules.” Erin corrected him.

“It's part of _my_ rules.” He declared. 

Krissy jumped up to grab the frisbee from him but Dean saw the move coming and threw the disk. It went flying over both girls’ heads, hit a tree, and fell to the ground.

“No fair.” Krissy grumbled.

As Erin went to retrieve the frisbee, Dean finally got to the point. “Hey, the reason I came over was to see if you lovely ladies could escr...escort me out to where the per...previous deaths took place.”

“Sure.” Krissy immediately agreed.

“The police have been out there and didn’t find a thing.” Erin added.

“Dean’s not the police.” The other girl argued. “He knows what to look for. Right?”

Dean shrugged. “I know what signs to look for. And I know that this wasn’t done by anyti...anything normal.”

“Well then, let’s grab some waters and snacks and go.”

After loading up a backpack with the necessary supplies, the three of them set off into the woods. It wasn't much of a hike from the campground, but it was far more walking than Dean had done since his leg had been injured and by the time they reached the spot, he felt the muscles protesting. Still, the hunter only took a few minutes to rest before checking over the site.

There really wasn't much to see. Some dried blood splattered on the bottom of a couple of tree trunks that the crime scene clean up crew had missed and nothing else. Dean checked for EMP, sulfur, symbols, anything out of the ordinary but came up empty handed.

They took a twenty minute walk to the next murder site to find the same exact thing. By the time they trudged back to camp over an hour and a half later, Dean’s leg was screaming in agony and he had exactly nothing to show for it. 

“So what do you think it is?” Krissy wanted to know.

“Not sure yet.” Dean replied. 

“But it's not witchcraft, right?” Erin piped up. 

“Nope.”

“Thank God. Once in a lifetime is more than enough.”

“Do you think you'll be able to stop this!” Krissy asked.

“Den...defit...defint…” Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation, wondering why the hell he'd tried to use the word ‘definitely’. “Sure.”

“How?”

“Once we know what it is, we find out how to kill it.”

“Do you think you're family found anything out in the library?”

“Let's ask.” Dean pointed to the Impala as it slowly drove up the main road of the campground.

As it turned out, his mom and Sam hadn't discovered much. There had been several disappearances and some murders in the area in the past, but there were no details and nothing that suggested a pattern. The Winchesters were certain that there were answers somewhere; they just weren't apparent yet. It was decided that they’d need to somehow get a close look at the bodies and then possibly talk with Bobby. 

After dinner (which Dean insisted on cooking) everyone gathered around a campfire for some stories and s'mores. And then they all went off to their separate tents for some much needed rest. Dean hoped that the next day would provide them with more answers.

It was just after three in the morning according to his watch when Dean woke up needing to pee. He groaned, not wanting to make the walk all the way up to the bathroom. The tent was warm and cozy and the very thought of limping his way all the way up to the restroom in the chilly night was distinctly unpleasant. There was always the option of going in the bushes nearby, but with his luck he'd end up peeing on a skunk. 

So, with a sigh, Dean got out of his sleeping bag, pulled on his boots, grabbed his crutch, and left the tent. The young hunter cut through the grass to reach the main road and followed it up to the bathroom. Once inside, he went into a stall so he'd have a place to lean his crutch without worrying about it falling onto the dirty floor, and then went to relieve himself. Dean was just starting when he heard the inhuman wailing sound. 

The teen froze. Sure, he had a knife in his boot, but he wasn't prepared for a fight with whatever this was. He had no backup, no real weapons, no clue yet as to what he'd be facing or how to kill it, and he was still pretty far from being at full health. In other words, Dean was screwed.

But then the sound stopped. The hunter finished up his business and flushed the toilet. Over the sound that it made, came the sorrowful wailing noise yet again. But this time it was much closer. Dean listened closely, trying to figure out what direction it was coming from. Most of the murders had happened out in the woods, but last time the guy had by killed at the beach. Unfortunately, while he was in the restroom, the sound was echoing and thus was impossible to track.

Dean left the stall and stopped at the sinks to quickly wash his hands as the cry ceased once more. Not bothering to take the time to dry them, he'd just stepped out into the night when the wailing started back up. And it was coming from the other side of the building he'd just exited. 

The wailing got louder as whatever was making the sound got closer to him. Dean held the crutch tightly in his hand and looked out into the darkness to where he knew his campsite, and his family, was. And he knew that he'd never reach them in time.

Still, Dean was considering trying to reach safety when the wailing got so close and so loud that he dropped his crutch as a reflex and clapped his hands over his ears. For a moment, the hunter wondered if he was going to have to add deaf to his list of disabilities. 

Then it stopped so abruptly that for a moment Dean thought his hearing _had_ been damaged. But as he lowered his hands, the subtle sounds of the night reached his ears. And suddenly a ghost appeared before him.

Well, at least he thought at first that she was a spirit. She certainly had the whole pale, semi- transparent, floating thing going on. But she also had blood red eyes and lips, and claw-like fingers that just didn't fit the whole ghost description. 

When her creepy-ass eyes met Dean’s, she let out a low pitiful sounding moan. As she floated closer, the thing reached out one hand towards the young hunter. Dean stepped back and his left leg almost gave out as the injured muscles spasmed painfully, not used to supporting his weight. He groaned as his back hit the wall of the restroom and he leaned up against it. 

The spirit-like creature slowly approached him, clawed hand just inches away from his face. Dean wished he had any type of protection or weapon but truthfully had no clue what would even work on this thing. The Colt would be a safe bet…

The clawed hand ran down his face so very gently, leaving behind a cold trail on his cheek. Dean gasped at the feel of it. 

Then, without warning, the spirit-like thing let out another ear-splitting wail and flew right into Dean. The last thing he felt was a cold so piercing that it seemed like his blood had turned to ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually contained an actual camping experience of mine from this past summer! (although it was altered a bit to fit the story) I was camping, had to pee at 3 am, was almost to the bathroom when I heard an unearthly wailing. I wanted to go back, but I really needed to pee, so I went in and went into a stall and the sound stopped. It started up again as I was finishing and it was closer. Then it stopped before I left the stall. It started up a third time as I was washing my hands and sounded like it was right outside the restroom. I was really scared. It didn't sound like any animals in the area (and I've been camping all my life and am very familiar with the wildlife) nor was it human. I stood in the doorway for a moment and it stopped. I poked my head out but didn't see anything so I ran all the way back to my tent. When I got there suddenly one thought popped into my head that I could not shake (but I can't share that yet because it'll spoil the story) and it led to me writing this. Oh, and I never heard the sound again for the rest of the trip. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed


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